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DD—30—She/Her. Here for all the fanfic. It’s not a problem, it’s a passionate hobby 😅 Occasional writer? It’s a work in progress in itself✨Masterlist✨
712 posts
So Proud Of You Bug! You Deserve Every Follower You Have And Kudos To You For Sticking To A Hobby!!!
So proud of you Bug! ❤️ You deserve every follower you have and kudos to you for sticking to a hobby!!! 🥰🥰🥰
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Holy fuck! Not one, but TWO milestones to celebrate!
Sometime in April I hit 5000 followers and I was gonna celebrate then, but with my one year fic anniversary gbu899i (< my cat Gizmo typed this, we're leaving it here. Everyone wave to him) and mostly because the end of the semester right around the corner, I decided to wait until May in order to give this the attention it deserves. Here we are! May 10th marks one year of me writing fic here on tumblr, and I want to celebrate both achievements.
Your support has played such a vital role in making writing such a gratifying hobby of mine. Whether you’ve been here since I started writing a year ago or just recently stumbled across my blog, it means the world to me. Having people read, like, reblog, comment, and engage with my fics is beyond fucking incredible. You keep me inspired to keep writing.
It’s not easy for me to stick to a hobby for a year. Ask the 20% finished afgan I started knitting two years ago that hasn’t been touched in months!! It’s beyond cool to have both a date on the calendar and such a pretty number to reflect how hard I’ve worked, and neither the date nor the number would be possible without you. Thank you 🩷
So we’re gonna celebrate. I haven’t done one of these before, unless you count the time I hit 2000 followers and said “send me requests!” and then did just one of them and zero others because I was so overwhelmed. So we’re taking a slightly different approach this time…
I’m thinking an extended sleepover, lol. Depending on how many participate, for a week or so you can send me asks from the prompts below and we’ll have some fun with them.
@noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal heavily inspired these choices with their recent follower celebrations 🩵
🐈⬛ Show and tell - send me pics of your pets, or Pedro if you don’t have any pets, brownie points for Kieran Culkin pics, or anything else that you love. And tell me all about it, and I’ll show you something I love! 👯♀️ I want to get to know each other better, so tell something about yourself or ask something about me. If you want, you can use this and this (⬅️ two send an emoji posts) for prompts 🏞️ Request a Moodboard (my favorite) I love doing moodboards, just tell me what you wanna see and I’ll do my best. 🗳️Send me a poll that you wanna see! Ask any question, let us all decide the answer. 🍆 Send me your dirty horny old man headcanons. I’m a horndog for some old men and I can’t change who I am. 📖 Send me your own writing (or another’s work that you love) I actually have a summer reading project where I’ve tagged each and every one of my mutuals to send me their own works for me to read all summer. So consider this just an extension of that- please send me the links to works you’ve written and/or works you’ve read and enjoyed so that I can enjoy them too and support fellow writers ✍️ 🩷 I enjoy just about anything, but I have a soft spot for dark/dub-con, masturbation, uhhhh anything hot and dirty like that. 👩💻Request some writing. I can do Joel, Roman Roy, and I’m maaaybe feeling brave about Frankie. @beefrobeefcal has dibs on my first Frankie fic anyway. Horny and debauched thots encouraged, dare I suggest dark as well? Fluff too, though I think I suck balls at writing it. I’ve been told I should do drabbles,,, that’s not really how I roll with my writing but I’m willing to try. It’s entirely possible and actually likely you’ll get a full length fic, in which case, it’ll take some time to get those done so bear with me. Depending on how many requests for writing I get, I may cut off requests at a certain point too. *It’s also possible I won’t jive with your idea, in which case please don’t feel bad. I only want to write something I feel I can do well, and if I can’t, that’s not on you.
GOD I am a rambler. I could have said so much less. But I hope to hear from some of you all and have some fun! Love you love you love you.
Tagging some friends, readers, and mutuals who’ve made writing what it is for me 🩷 I love you all @ievutebebe @pinkypromisepascal @yazsos @heartfairy @magpiepills @medellintangerine @merz-8 @bitchesuntitled @theweedisasterxoxo @covetyou @theywhowriteandknowthings @futuraa-free @smok3r7 @toxicanonymity @atticrissfinch @xdaddysprincessxx @whatsnewalycat @addictedtotlou @littlevenicebitch69 @marisferasiop @joelsgreys @just-some-random-blogger @ghostlovesbaguettes @sweetenerobert @swiftiegirliepop @joeloverture @dorims @munsonhoneybaby @umnitsa @nostalxgic @yazsos @rainbowcosmicchaos @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @starry-eyes-love @paleidiot @bluecookies-and-ink @beardedjoel @aestheticisinq @corazondebeskar @axshadows @kyloispunk @survivingandenduring @pedroswife69 @bean-is-reading @pedroshotwifey @casa-boiardi @knittingandfanfics @molt3ngold @worhols @iknowisoundcrazy @nostalxgic @pattwtf @cerridwen007 @corozondebeskar @blackmetalamazon @jazzysnazzys @sheepdogchick3 @alltheseperfectimperfections @mermaidgirl30
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More Posts from Bitchesuntitled
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Well this is pretty cool! Never expected to have 100 people care enough to follow so they can be able to see what I write or share. Thanks for the follows! Also, be on the look out! Got a new story dropping tomorrow 😊
Aww! Thank you ❤️
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Walk in the Park
Little Dieter drabble for the @dieterbravobrainrotclub ❤️ Thank you @sweetenerobert & @jay-zzle for giving this a look over 🥰
Pairing: Dieter & GN!Reader
Warning: Cussing
Divider by @saradika-graphics
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“Fuck!”
You startle, shooting up from the bench you decided to rest at, as a man stumbles out of the bushes.
“Are you real?!” He asks panicked, scrubbing his hands along the sides of his face, twigs and leaves scattered throughout his dark messy curls, eyes hidden behind alien eye-shaped sunglasses you’ve seen at a local party store.
Great, a deranged stranger. He looks familiar but you can’t quite place him, gripping the mace on your keychain tighter. Wary of his presence.
“I just—“ he says, taking a deep breath and leaning over. Palms against his thighs as he exhales slowly, “I’m all mixed up out here. A friend of mine suggested doing shrooms and taking a walk, to get to know nature, all that bullshit. Horrible idea. Ever seen a frog up close and personal? Scary, unpredictable fuckers. Lead me astray hours ago.”
You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for the man, having had your share of similar shrooms trips.
“Feeling okay?” You ask, deciding to take the kind route, and sitting back down. The man is dressed in soft pj pants, a threadbare shirt, crocs, and a bathrobe. Interesting choice for a trip to the park but you’ve seen worse.
“I think I’m finally coming down,” The man shrugs, “My name’s Dieter by the way,” he adds, extending his hand for you to shake.
“Nice to meet you, Dieter,” you say, grabbing his clammy hand, giving a small shake, and sharing your name.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Dieter asks, pointing at the spot next to you.
“Go right on ahead,” you nod towards the bench.
You begin making small talk, sharing bits and pieces about each other’s lives. You learn he’s an actor, which is why he looked so familiar. Award-winning actor Dieter Bravo, the trainwreck that he is. The bathrobe should have been your tip, can’t even begin to count the number of times you’d seen that featured on all the covers of gossip magazines.
“Okay, now let’s get to the hard-hitting questions,” Dieter says, clapping his hands together, the alien glasses sliding down his aquiline nose, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Negative.”
“What about soulmates?”
“Not sure yet,” you laugh, shrugging, “Never found anyone worth my time.”
“That so?” Dieter asks, eyebrows peaking above the frame of his unique sunglasses.
“What is with those ridiculous sunglasses?” you ask, unable to contain a laugh, “I cannot take you seriously. You’re supposed to be some award-winning actor, yet you’re literally wearing pajamas and costume store sunglasses shaped like alien-eyes.”
“Inspiration, my dear,” Dieter smirks, “Inspiration.”
“Inspiration?”
“Of course! It’s for my next role, I’m a scientist on the search for answers of another life form.”
“So what?” You laugh, “You take shrooms, slap on some alien glasses, take a stroll through the park, and think you’re going to find your character?”
“Next question,” Dieter says, ignoring you, “Do you believe in aliens?”
“Of course.”
“Last question,” Dieter giggles, “Wanna have sex with me?”
You sit back, biting your cheek, looking at him. The patchy scruff on his face, his nose, his hair still scattered with leaves, and the earring dangling off his earlobe.
“Take the glasses off.”
He huffs but removes them, letting you get a good look at his face without anything obstructing your view. You look at those dark orbs, pupils still a little dilated, shaking your head.
“Maybe next time” you smirk, getting up and walking away.
This is absolutely beautiful! The longing, the wondering, then when they finally get together?! 😍🥲 I loved reading this so much!!!
fresh out the slammer
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➔ Javier Peña x afab!Reader
➔ 4.4k words
➔ Javier Peña moves home and, in the process, breaks the invisible bubble of your complacency.
➔ Rated MA // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), age gap (reader is 23, javi is mid-30s), infidelity (reader is married), unprotected p in v sex, oral (reader receiving), pet names, smoking/nicotine use, reader wears a dress
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You’re not sure when the ring on your finger, a glistening band that you used to admire so much, transformed into a shackle.
You loved him at one point, you’re sure you did. You never would’ve ended up here otherwise. You’re not weak, you’ve never been the type to need a partner in order to feel complete. You got married because you were in love, because you thought that you would love your husband for the rest of your life.
It’s terrifying how quickly the illusion of comfort comes crashing down when you meet Javier Peña.
You’ve heard so much about him that he’s nearly a thing of legend, despite never having met him. Your neighbor Chucho is incredibly proud of his only son. Every day that you go over to help around the house with Chucho’s seemingly endless list of chores, you’re regaled with stories about the fearless Deputy-turned-Agent Peña; about how the world will be changed and molded by Javier’s hands. It’s hard to believe all the tall tales that Chucho weaves, and still there’s undeniable reverence in your mind as you catch a glimpse of Javi’s handsome face in the photo frames that you dust.
All the stories you hear, though, never could have prepared you for the real deal.
He shows up without warning one sweltering afternoon and sets his bags down on the floor with a hefty thump, clearly confused at the beautiful stranger in his father’s kitchen. Apparently, Chucho didn’t warn him about you, either.
He knows within seconds of stepping through the door that you’re off-limits–he’s trained his eyes to seek out the glistening golden band on your left ring finger. But the more you talk to him, the more you look at him, the more you smile at him… he can’t help wondering more and more exactly how off-limits you are.
Days don’t blur together the same way they once did for you. You find yourself eager to visit your neighbor just for a chance to glimpse the easy smile that Javi reserves for you–his pretty next door neighbor, his friend.
It’s so painfully easy to like him, even despite your best efforts to the contrary. He’s the perfect gentleman–always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, holds doors open for you, helps you carry in groceries. He thrives with acts of service, and it shows. He seems like he genuinely likes spending time with you. He tells you the lighter stories of his time with the DEA, and you tell him stories in return. Mostly about your childhood so you can avoid what your life has become since then: just a moon spinning mindlessly in the gravitational orbit of your husband. Nothing more than a phantom floating around your boringly nice little house, in your boringly nice little neighborhood.
You were so young when you uttered the vows that would become chains. Eighteen, fresh-faced and wide-eyed and all those other descriptors that come with youth and naivety. You had wanted to be wanted, and your husband had wanted you. It could’ve gone on forever without a wake-up call.
Then there’s Javi and everything changes because of him. With each passing day, you grow closer and closer to a man who isn’t yours. Bit by bit, Javi pries the steel trap of your doubts open without even meaning to–and when those doubts pour out, they come like a flood.
You used to sleep so soundly in the king-sized bed you share with your husband. But now, there are late nights where you lay awake in that bed and you wonder even as you lay beside your husband if you were too hasty in marrying him so young.
Your quiet resentment was at least subconscious before Javi strolled in, short sleeved button-up shirt sweaty from the late summer humidity and dark wash jeans hugging those broad hips in a way that should be considered a crime. You leave his house and return home to a husband who takes you for granted, who thinks your care of him is just the bare minimum, and it chafes.
You try not to let it bleed over, but little comments you make paint a much larger picture. Javi can tell as clear as day that you’re not being appreciated–that you’re even starting to feel trapped.
Your friends start to see it too, on the few occasions you go out. You’re a bit more transparent with them, because they can read you like a book regardless of how much you try to hide. That’s the hardest part of coming to terms with how unhappy you are; that you were wrong, that you made a stupid decision, and the people around you know it. You’ve never been good at admitting mistakes, and this is the biggest mistake you possibly could’ve made. The vows you made to your husband are supposed to be engraved in stone for eternity.
You know you should focus on fixing this rather than condemning it. You were happy before, and you could be happy again. Then you look up into Javi’s dark eyes, and you start to think that you might never be happy if it’s not those eyes that you come home to each night.
It’s infinitely harder when you can feel the burgeoning desire every time you step foot in his home. Javi knows it’s not his place to speak his mind, but it’s right there in the look on his face. He thinks you deserve better, even if better isn’t him. That’s the part he fights to keep to himself; that he so desperately wishes it could be him. Javi could appreciate you the way you deserve, Javi could make you happy. If you would just give him a chance, he could change everything for you. He’s so willing to ignore the doubts and the what-ifs in favor of the perfect fairytale ending. Realistically, could he really deliver on all the promises he’s made to you in his mind? He’s tried this out before, and it didn’t end well. It could just end up as the same story, different chapter.
That’s the scariest part, to him–the realization that he’d rather love you and lose you than never have you at all.
The scariest part for you is just how willingly you would uproot your entire life for even a chance to be his. There’s no reality where it happens easily, your life is far from a Hallmark movie. Divorce would be messy, and it would halt not only your life but your husband’s, too. He has no reason to think you’re unhappy; on the surface, everything is great. He supports you, and you support him in return. He doesn’t recognize that you’re wasting away your wonder years in the home of someone who doesn’t excite you–and even worse, that you spend most of your days pining after someone he’s never even been properly introduced to.
Maybe that’s the hardest part of all this; that it’s not really your husband’s fault, but yours by way of negligence. If you had waited, maybe explored a little further before settling down, you might have found the man you really wanted to be with. You wouldn’t have led on a perfectly nice guy who’s just a little too vanilla in all aspects of life for your taste.
You know it’s considered emotional cheating, what you have with Javi. Your husband would be so hurt if he found out, and you know it. The last thing you want to do is hurt him, but Javi makes you feel so alive. He makes you feel so cared for, so valued, and who can blame you for wanting more of those feelings?
Every morning when you walk across the expanse of lawn that separates your property from Chucho’s, Javier’s waiting for you with a smile and a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He protests half-heartedly that you don’t need to come take care of Chucho anymore now that he’s home, but you know he would worry his head off if you didn’t show up. Besides, your home is so lonely. When you go next door, you have constant company between Javier and Chucho. When you’re home, you have no one but yourself until your husband comes home–and even then, it’s hollow company. There’s not much conversation between two people who can feel something dissolving but are powerless to stop it.
Your husband starts to ask questions about the neighbors that he’s never bothered to bond with. He’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. You used to go to Chucho’s once a week to help out, and your visits have only increased since his son moved back in. It looks suspicious even from an objective point of view; Chucho is old, but he’s far from decrepit. He doesn’t need as much help as you offer, certainly not with Javier around.
You never talk about it, but you know he wonders. And really, he has a right to. You’ve thought about taking that final, irreversible step a million times. You’ve thought about taking Javier’s handsome face between your hands and kissing him absolutely breathless more times than you can count.
But that’s all it’s been so far, thoughts, never actions. As much as you want to forget, you always remember that you’re married. Javi can’t seem to forget it either. You know he wants you–maybe even as badly as you want him–but he won’t do a thing about it. Not with that shiny ring on your finger.
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It’s your five year anniversary, and your husband thinks it needs to be a big deal. You would think so too, if you weren’t so preoccupied with other thoughts. Regardless, you go through the motions. You go into town and buy a nice dress for the occasion, you send out hand-written invitations, you organize catering and decorations. It’s slated to be the backyard shindig of the year, but celebrating your marriage is like a punch to the gut right now–especially when Javi offers his help with the preparations.
Your feelings are a little unreasonably hurt by how eager he is to assist. Why is he so excited for you and your husband? Have you been reading all of his signals wrong?
You haven’t–his love language is acts of service, and he’s sure he can prove to you that he’s the better choice if he can demonstrate his worth. But it’s not like he can just come out and say that–he can’t be the deciding factor of whatever happens between you and your husband. It’s a choice you have to make on your own. So he grins and bears it–even as each wedding photo and reception memento you pull out of storage drives a chisel into his heart.
You’ve grown used to being able to read him so well. Now, as he helps you lug boxes down from the attic, you have no clue what’s swirling in those pretty brown eyes. It seems like distance, and maybe that’s for the best. Maybe celebrating your wedding anniversary is exactly what you need to get back on track–to finally put the man you can’t have out of your mind and focus on the man you do have.
“You did good,” Javi hums, beer in hand as he leans against the garage to admire the finishing touches of backyard decoration with you.
“You probably did more than I did,” you admit sheepishly.
“Nah, I’m just brawn. You’re the brains behind this operation,” he tells you with a quiet chuckle. “He’s gonna love it.”
You let out a little sigh and push away from the garage, wiping imagined dust from your palms. “Let’s hope.”
It’s quiet for a long moment, and Javi takes a few sips of his beer before working up the courage to ask what he wants to. “You still love him?”
“Of course I do,” you answer without thinking, because that’s what you’re supposed to say–even if it’s not entirely the truth.
You want to take it back the moment you see the crestfallen look on his face, but it’s too late. You shouldn’t want to take it back, even if you could. You’re supposed to love your husband forever, ‘til death do you part.
“Guess I’d better go clean up,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He treks off across the lawn before you can stop him, broad shoulders practically bursting through the seams of his tight button-up, and all you want to do is throw yourself at that retreating back. You want to bury yourself in him and beg him to run away with you, to save you from this mess of your own making.
Instead, you go back inside and get yourself ready for what is shaping up to be the longest night of your life.
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It’s busy, there’s really no other way to describe it. You’re being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously–everyone wants to hug you or take photos, the caterer keeps pulling you into the kitchen for issues that they should be able to handle on their own. Your goal of a nice, relaxing party is completely out the window by the time the last of the guests arrive.
Big parties have never really been your thing, but your husband soaks up the attention. You hardly even see him the entire night–he’s always off chatting with a friend or a coworker.
All these smiling faces are like nails in your coffin. You get so many hugs and congratulations that it’s suffocating. There’s one face you really want to see, one face that could make your anxiety melt away like butter on a stovetop. He’s not here.
Chucho seems to sense your anxiety as he brings you into a warm hug–there’s something unreadable in those anciently wise eyes. “Javier sends his best.”
“He’s not coming?” Your stomach drops, and Chucho can tell.
“Think he’s come down with somethin’,” Chucho explains. Then, with a subdued smile that tells a deeper story than words ever could, he says, “Maybe you ought to go over and check on him. You might do more good than I could.”
Deep down, you know it would be so horribly irresponsible and rude of you to leave your party at this moment. You’re supposed to be hosting and having a good time, enjoying a night dedicated to you and your husband. If Javi doesn’t want to join in, he doesn’t have to. He has every right not to be here, it’s not like it’s his celebration.
You’re knocking on his front door before you’re even conscious of making the decision to do so.
His eyes are red-rimmed when he opens the door. For a moment, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost–the most beautiful spectre of a person he’s ever laid eyes on.
“You still love him.” This time, it’s not a question. Just a cold, hard statement.
“I’m supposed to,” you whisper. It’s an easier answer than the truth.
“You should go back,” he tells you, and you know. You know you have no right being here, no right to ask him to give you more of himself than he already has.
“I know.” The unspoken part of your answer is that you won’t, because there’s nothing worth celebrating back there. Those people are all at your house under false pretenses, and the only other person who knows it besides you is standing in the doorway of this modest ranch house with tear-stained cheeks that you can hardly bear looking at because you put those tears there. “I’m sorry, Javi.”
“I am too.” You don’t know what he’s apologizing for until your brain catches up to your nervous system and you realize he’s kissing you. Not sweetly, either–it’s harsh, as if he’s chastising both of you for what’s happening even as he’s powerless to resist it. His tongue sweeps into your mouth and your arms snake around his neck without thinking, because the thought of pulling away now that you’re here hurts more than anything else ever could. There’s no going back now and you both know it.
He pulls you inside and presses you against the door, every delicious inch of his body pressed up against yours as he kisses you deeper and deeper.
“You need to stop me,” he murmurs into your mouth, even as his hands trace down your waist and tug you closer against him.
“I don’t want to.”
Javi knows he should be the bigger man and put a stop to this before it can go any further. He can’t ask you to uproot everything for him. He doesn’t have anything better to offer you than your husband does–realistically, he knows he’s the lesser of two options. He just can’t bring himself to do it when his lips are trailing down your neck and your hands are unbuttoning his shirt.
“This’ll change everything,” he mumbles as your hands find his belt buckle. It’s a last, fleeting attempt to save you both from something that only ends in disaster.
“Good.”
Really, when you put it like that, he’s doing you a favor by pulling you down the hall to his bedroom.
“I don’t wanna go back,” you confess as he pulls your dress over your head. “It’s all bullshit.”
“I know, baby. I know. But you have to.”
“We can’t just ride off into the sunset?” You ask, a tinge of humor in your voice because you both know that it isn’t that simple. Maybe in the movies, but definitely not in real life.
“I wish we could,” he admits with a smile as his warm lips trail lingering little kisses down your stomach. “I’d give anything to make that happen.”
Really, you know there’s nothing more for him to give. He’s risking his own security by doing this, too. He’s dooming himself to backwards glances at the supermarket and whispers behind closed doors–the typical curse of a small town. Whatever heat you get for this, he might get it just as bad. Still, he doesn’t seem to care. Still, he’d ruin his own life for a chance to be yours.
If you were merciful, you’d bail him out now before he has to take any of the heat from this disaster. In the end maybe your biggest flaw is how unable you are to stop yourself from being selfish, now that you finally have a glimpse of the sunshine you’ve been hoping for throughout the winter that your marriage has become.
He’s achingly gentle as he pries your thighs apart and makes quick work of sealing his lips around your clit. He looks up into your eyes as he unwinds you, like he’s never seen anything more magnificent. The thought excites you more than it should.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he all but whines into your cunt. It’s impossible not to let that go to your head–the fact that he’s imagined working you open on his tongue like this before.
In the end, you need the reassurance that it hasn’t just been you this whole time–that he’s always wanted you as much as you’ve wanted him. “You imagined this?”
“All the time, baby.”
That does you in all on its own. You shatter like a vase dropped on a hardwood floor, pleasure coursing through every vein as you struggle to escape his ministrations yet simultaneously desperate to press yourself closer to him. His grip is strong as he works you through it, keeping your hips firmly in place against his mattress as he laps at you like he’ll never be able to get enough.
“Jesus…” he murmurs once you’ve come down enough to stop moaning his name. He scatters little kisses over the insides of your thighs, desperate to stay close even as you shiver with the remnants of your orgasm. “I gotta be inside you, baby.”
“Come here then.”
You’re still a little breathless as his lips find yours, but he breathes life back into your lungs quickly enough. He’s shoving his jeans down and grinding his hard cock against your soaking cunt in a matter of moments, and it’s intimidating. Not because of his size—although he’s quite a bit bigger than you're used to—but because of how right this feels. What if this is the first and last time this ever happens? What if nothing ever feels this right again?
He quells your fears one kiss at a time, tongue sliding across your bottom lip as his hand comes up to hold your jaw.
“We can stop here, baby,” he tells you so sweetly, even though you can see in his beautiful eyes that stopping is the last thing he wants. He would do it for you though, even if it hurts, and that only makes you want him more.
“Please don’t stop, Javi.”
He’s lining himself up before you’ve finished saying his name, eyes dark and searching. “Nice and slow, querida.”
“Okay,” you breathe.
The first push of him is ecstasy. Like stars lighting up the night sky or waves crashing against time-worn cliffs, it’s right. It feels good, his hands holding your thighs open while he presses deeper inside you, but what makes it feel great is that it’s Javi. It’s the man you would give everything up for, finally filling you the way you’ve dreamed since the day you met him.
“Ohhhh, Christ…” he murmurs as his eyes flutter shut, finally filling you to the hilt. It’s almost hard to hear over the deafening pace his thumb works against your clit. “This is gonna be so embarrassing.”
“W… what do you mean?”
“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck. “Feel too damn good.”
You’ve got to be hearing things, because surely there’s no way he’s as unraveled as you are? Surely you don’t have that much of an effect on him?
You brush your fingers through his dark hair, soothing him even as you’re desperate for him to move. “It’s okay. You’re perfect.”
“I’m far from it,” he admits, but he pulls back and starts slowly rolling his hips against yours anyway.
“You’re perfect for me, then,” you whisper. His hips jolt a little at that, and you’re stunned once again by how much simply your words affect him—by being wanted as much as you want him.
“God, I don’t fuckin’ deserve you.” He thrusts deep, as if to distract you from his passive self-degradation, and it draws an involuntary whine from your throat.
“You deserve everything, Javi.” You hope he’ll keep you around long enough for you to drill that lesson into his head.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Words would never properly convey what he feels, anyway. He dedicates himself to showing you instead.
It’s like time stands still just so he can wreck you more effectively. Every moment of his hands hitching your legs higher around his waist, every moment of his cock splitting you open, every moment of his breathy kisses; it all seems drawn out. And yet it’s not enough— you don’t think it’ll ever be enough. You’ve wasted too much time not being his.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbles into your mouth with a particularly deep shove of his hips. “I never thought I’d get to have you.”
“I never thought you would want me,” you admit earnestly. Your voice is so much higher than you remember it being—everything is so tightly wound you feel like you might combust into flames.
“How could I not?” He kisses you again—slow and languid, even as his hips pick up the pace and his thumb speeds up on your clit to match. “I can’t let you go now. You know that, right?”
“I don’t want you to,” is all you can manage before all coherent thought is wiped from your mind by a blinding wave of pleasure.
Time doesn’t exist for a little while. Nothing does, really, outside the bubble of this queen-sized mattress. All you know is the waves coursing through your nerves and Javi’s little grunts filling the room as he fills you, with short and deep strokes that leave you dripping the creamy reminder of what you’ve done. You’re sweaty and sticky as he unwinds himself from you so he can flop down beside you, and nothing’s ever felt better.
By the time you manage to pry your eyes open again, Javi’s coming back from the bathroom down the hall with a wet washcloth.
He winces at the overstimulated groan you let out when he starts wiping you clean. “I know baby, m’sorry.”
He tosses it into the laundry hamper at the foot of the bed when he’s done, then sits on the edge of the bed next to you to light a cigarette.
For a moment, it’s quiet. You watch with quiet fascination at the little swirls of smoke that drift from his lips, and you think you could get used to this.
“I meant it, Javi,” you hum quietly. You prop up on your knees behind him, arms snaking around his waist as he leans back against you. “I don’t wanna go back to the way things were. I don’t want you to let me go.”
“I won’t, then.” He lets out a contented hum, then leans forward to drop the butt into the ashtray on his nightstand. Your arms are open when he leans back into you, and this time he turns so he can kiss you. It’s light and lingering, a contrast to the desperate kisses from earlier—it feels like a promise.
“It won’t be easy,” you warn him. You know he knows, but you have to give him an out. You have to make sure he sees the storm that’s coming.
“It doesn’t have to be.” A smirk flashes across his lips as he leans his forehead against yours. “You did your time, baby. You tried. It’ll be alright.”
And here, in the safety of his arms, in the safety of his bed, you believe him.
You’ll go back to your own home in a few short minutes, when you can bear to release Javi from your arms. You’ll finish out the party for your guests, and then you’ll talk to your husband. And then, once everything is finished imploding, you’ll run to the porchlight that calls your name from next door and the open arms that can soothe any ache.
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➔ this is third submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge thank you for the prompt love :)
➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe and @schnarfer ; dividers: @saradika-graphics thank you darlings <3
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I wanna be in a Frankie and Benny sandwich!
Couch Chronicles | One Shot
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Frankie Morales x f!reader x Benny Miller
Summary: When you accidentally tell your boyfriend, Frankie, that you think his best friend is cute... he makes a plan. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: strictly smut, established relationship, threesome, mmf dynamic, heavy kissing, a stupid amount of neck kissing, nipple play, oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, choking, rough sex, cum eating, deepthroat, unprotected piv sex, multiple creampies, degrading kink (very mild), praise kink, pet names (pretty girl, baby, babygirl), language, men whimpering (i know) A/N: I want two boyfriends, and I want the boyfriends to be boyfriends... yeah, you guys know how it goes. idk I had an idea, tossed some words together, and here we are. not my finest work and probably a lil shitty in terms of technicality, but I was craving a good trip to Paris.
Masterlist | Ko-fi
You were lying in bed with Frankie one night, scrolling through social media, when you came across a new post from Benny. It was from a recent fishing trip down to the lake, and he was shirtless, holding a large trout in his hand. You tapped on the screen twice, liking the photo and spending an extra few seconds staring at his tall frame and shaggy blonde hair doused in sunlight.
“You know he is pretty cute,” you said aloud, showing Frankie the photo.
Frankie and Benny were close, best friends even. You had spent time with him here and there over the years at barbecues and small group settings. He was always friendly and welcomed you into the group with open arms. You and Frankie had been dating for a while now, and you were well aware of his past with the group of men and the missions they had gone on. But now he was home for good, making a living for himself and staying clean.
“Do you ever think about fucking him?” Frankie asked casually, glancing from the screen to your face.
“Frankie, oh my God!” You gasped. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You gaped at him, shutting off your phone and placing it on the nightstand.
“Hey, I wasn’t asking to start an argument,” he said coolly. “It was a genuine question.”
You shrunk into the pillows, turning to face him. He nestled against his own pillow, holding your gaze and giving you a small grin. His hair had grown shaggy at the ends, sticking up behind his ears and curling at the base of his neck. You lifted a hand to scratch at the patchy beard covering his jaw, biting your lip as you navigated a response in your head.
“No, I haven’t thought about it,” you exhaled. “Okay, maybe I have once or twice. Fuck—I don’t know. Not in a fuck him and leave you type of way.”
“You know I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” Frankie replied. “Fuck him, I mean.”
“What?” You balked, eyes growing wide.
He only shrugged his shoulders, shifting close to you in the bed.
“He’s my best friend. I’d trust him with you.”
“You’re not seriously telling me right now you want me to sleep with Benny.”
“I’m not telling you to do it,” Frankie argued. “Just saying, if you ever want to explore it, tell me. I’m sure he’s thought about it, too.”
Your face burned bright red at the thought of Benny fantasizing about you. There was no way. Frankie was messing with you.
“None of this bothers you?” You questioned.
Frankie laughed softly, hooking an arm around your leg and guiding it over his hip. You shuffled your body closer until you were both a breath apart.
“Fuck no, baby,” he smirked, his pupils growing bigger. “Getting to see one of best friends fuck you would probably only turn me on more.”
You felt him growing harder against you, and you reached a hand down to palm his cock through his pajama bottoms. Frankie let out a soft whine, bucking his hips into your hand.
“Would you just sit back and watch?” You quirked an eyebrow.
“I’d do whatever you want.”
Your fingers danced up his pants, teasing his waistband. You gave him a mischievous grin as you trailed lower until your hand wrapped around his cock. He groaned at your touch, his eyes rolling back.
“What if I want both of you?” You asked, pumping him slowly. “At the same time?”
Something carnal flashed across his features, and he crawled on top of you, running his mouth up your neck. You arched into him, using both hands to pull down his pants. Frankie did the same to you, tugging your sleep shorts down your legs and exploring the wetness collecting between your inner thighs.
“Pretty girl wants to get tag-teamed?” He teased. “Yeah, I can make that happen.”
You gasped at his words and let him fuck you mercilessly the rest of the night.
You had zero clue what Frankie had told Benny, but later that week, you were situated on the couch between their warm bodies, watching some action movie. Benny kept a respectable distance while Frankie’s hand remained on your thigh, drawing slow circles over your bare skin. You were wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of soft sleep shorts, your nerves buzzing through your body.
You barely had the capacity to pay attention to the movie, your eyes shifting between both of the men sitting on either side of you. Frankie leaned over after a while, his breath hot against your neck.
“You call the shots, pretty girl. Whatever you wanna do, it’s your choice,” he muttered into your ear.
You let out a small gasp, glancing over at Benny. He was sitting relaxed against the couch; his legs spread open and muscular arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes trailed up his thick neck, studying his tensed jaw covered in days-old stubble and blue eyes that remained focused on the screen. You weren’t the shy type, but initiating this type of situation was way out of your comfort zone.
“Benny?” You whispered.
His gaze slid to you, his pupils already dilated.
“Yeah?” He asked, his voice deep as he said your name.
You sucked in a breath, mustering the courage to take it to the next step.
“Kiss me,” you demanded, though it sounded a bit sheepish.
He flicked his gaze to Frankie, then back to you. Reaching a hand up to tangle in your hair, he reeled you in for a hungry kiss. You whimpered at the feel of his mouth against yours, his approach far rougher than what you were used to with Frankie. His tongue intertwined with yours as he coaxed your mouth open wider, his other hand sliding up your thigh.
Frankie’s mouth connected with the other side of your neck, sucking marks into your flushed skin as you let out another helpless whine.
“Fuck,” Benny panted, guiding your head toward Frankie.
Frankie was quick to capture your mouth, his tongue tracing the saliva still lingering on your lips. You gasped as Benny’s mouth trailed up your neck, drawing his tongue over the erratic pulse under your jaw.
“This what you want, baby?” Frankie asked before sinking his teeth into the plush skin of your bottom lip.
You gave him an eager nod of your head, and he brought his hand up to tilt your head, both of their mouths now hot and wet against either side of your throat. The throbbing between your thighs grew painful, and you squirmed against their roaming hands; Benny’s hand crawled up to cup your breast, Frankie’s hand teasing your aching clit over your shorts.
“Jesus Christ,” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the couch.
“Call the shots, pretty girl,” Frankie ordered.
You bucked your hips against his hand, searching for any form of friction to alleviate the pressure building inside your core. Benny tugged at the t-shirt covering your torso, his breath going ragged as he discovered you bare beneath the soft cotton.
His head dipped down to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, grinding them against your skin until you cried out from the pleasure mixing with pain. Oh, Benny was rough, and it only made you ache for more of his touch.
You glanced down at the same time his gaze lifted to yours, a grin tugging at his lips as he realized how much you liked it. Frankie, meanwhile, was working at sipping his fingers between your wet folds, sinking two fingers knuckle deep.
“Shit,” you hissed through clenched teeth. Frankie’s fingers worked fast inside you; he knew what to do to make you completely fall apart.
But now you had another man working at you in tandem, Benny’s mouth still ravaging your breast. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails raking over his scalp. He let out a groan of approval, rewarding you with another bite of his teeth around your nipple.
“Feels…so fucking good…” You whispered to both men.
Frankie angled his hand so that he could push his fingers deeper, curling them against the spongy spot inside you. Searing heat coursed through your veins with each movement of his fingers, your breath coming out short and pained.
A dangerous idea floated through the fog inside your brain, and you wondered how far you could push it at the expense of your wanton needs. Tugging Benny’s hair, he released your nipple with a gentle pop and moved his lips back to yours. You sucked his bottom lip in between your teeth before diving your tongue into his mouth. Benny let out a shallow exhale, letting you steer the kiss in whatever direction you wanted.
“Benny,” you whined. “I want your tongue inside me.”
He cursed under his breath and looked over at Frankie, who was still working you closer to the edge. Frankie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. He pulled his fingers from you, lifting them to your mouth.
“Clean them, pretty girl,” he ordered.
You wrapped your mouth around his thick fingers, the salty, sweet taste of your arousal coating your tongue. You pulled your head back and looked at Benny with a lifted brow.
“Wanna taste?” You asked with a coy smile.
You expected him to pull you in for a kiss, to taste it from your mouth, but your breath stalled as you watched him grip Frankie’s wrist and guide his fingers into his mouth. Your jaw dropped open as Benny sucked on Frankie’s fingers with fervency, his eyes locked on your boyfriend. This was new. Frankie grunted as Benny dragged his tongue over the pads of his fingers, finally releasing them and settling back into the couch.
“Come here, baby,” Frankie said, shuffling his body back against one side of the couch.
He maneuvered you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. Through heavy lids, you watched Benny tear away his shirt and put his defined abs on display. You and Frankie had been to a few of his boxing matches, and you were more than familiar with the toned figure he hid under his basic t-shirts. Your eyes roamed down his torso, studying the way his chest hair flourished between his sternum and trailed down his abdomen. You involuntarily wet your lips at the sight, wanting to take your tongue and trace every flexed muscle on his body.
“Spread your legs for me, babygirl,” Benny instructed. Hearing him call you babygirl had your mind reeling.
You let your legs fall open and watched as Benny shuffled back to situate himself between your thighs. Frankie’s hands groped and squeezed your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples until you gasped at the stinging pain. You tilted your head back, arching upward to meet his lips. Frankie responded with a sloppy kiss, his nose brushing over yours at the same time Benny’s tongue flicked over your aching clit.
“Fuck!” You cried, the word muffled in Frankie’s mouth.
Frankie let out a low chuckle and intertwined his fingers through the tendrils of your hair, forcing you to look down at Benny.
“Watch him while he tongue fucks you, baby,” Frankie commanded.
Your breath hitched, and Benny took that as his opportunity to dive his tongue deep inside you. Sparks of pleasure erupted behind your eyes, and it took all your strength to keep your focus on him as he worked his tongue deeper. His eyes shot up to yours, the pale blue of his irises swallowed by his pupils.
“Do you like that pretty girl?” Frankie crooned in your ear. “You enjoy having us both giving you all this attention?”
“Yes,” you panted, your chest rising and falling steadily as warmth spread through your stomach.
“Tell Benny how much you like it.”
Your eyes rolled back as Benny traced over your wet folds with his tongue, the heat of his mouth against your cunt sending you into a spiral.
“I—.” You choked on your words as Benny’s lips suctioned around your clit, his tongue sending sharp rhythmic flicks across the aching bundle of nerves.
“Tell him,” Frankie growled, his hand wrapping around your throat.
“Your mouth feels so fucking good, Benny,” you gasped. “Please don’t stop… Please. Keep doing that, I’m so fucking close.”
Your words were melding together, a jumble of incoherent mumbling and humiliating whimpers. Frankie’s hand squeezed your throat tighter, restricting your breathing as Benny coaxed your orgasm closer to the surface. With Frankie’s hand around your neck and Benny’s tongue assailing your cunt, the overstimulation began to spread through your veins.
“I know you’re close, pretty girl,” Frankie whispered in your ear. “I can feel how tense you are. Let it go, baby. Cum for us.”
His words sent the heavens crashing down around you, and your body seized upwards as your orgasm ignited a fire that raged under your skin. Benny lapped at the arousal pooling out of you, humming in satisfaction as a strangled cry left your lips.
“Doesn’t my girl taste good, Benny?” Frankie murmured, releasing his grip on your throat.
“Fucking perfect,” Benny grinned.
You leaned your head back against Frankie’s chest, seeing his big brown eyes sparkle with lust.
“Frankie, baby,” you whispered. “Why don’t you have a taste, too?”
Frankie started to shift you off his lap, but you pressed yourself further into his chest, leaving him looking at you confused. You glanced down at Benny and gave a subtle lift of your chin as if to silently coax him from between your thighs. He followed your lead, crawling up your body until he hovered over you and leaned in close. He braced himself against the couch with one arm while snaking the other around Frankie’s neck. You careened your neck to watch as their mouth collided, Frankie’s aquiline nose smashing against Benny’s cheek for a frenzied kiss. Frankie submitted to Benny’s control, whimpering as their tongues danced together. Your jaw went slack as you watched your boyfriend passionately kiss his best friend; oh, you fucking loved this.
Benny tore away from Frankie’s lips, bending down to trail his lips over your jaw and neck.
“I think your man wants some attention, babygirl,” he muttered against your warm skin.
“I think so, too,” you agreed, breathless.
Both men maneuvered off the couch, taking their time to undress, while you sat back and admired both of their naked bodies. Frankie was soft in all the right areas, his dark chest hair spread across his broad torso and trailing down over the soft pudge of his stomach. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, already glistening with precum as it leaked from the tip. Your eyes shifted over to Benny, your eyes growing wide at the length of his hardened cock. While Frankie’s cock was sizable in girth, Benny made up for it with length, and the thought of his cock deep inside you only spurred you closer to another orgasm. You needed one of them to fuck you, or else you’d go crazy.
“Baby,” you whined, shuffling your body up on the couch.
Frankie gave you a smirk, the creases in the corner of his eyes appearing as he looked down on you. You snaked a hand down your navel, your fingers slipping between the wet folds as you sought out some sort of relief from the throbbing need inside you.
Benny moved around the side of the couch, his strong hands hooking under your shoulders and dragging you back until your head hung over the arm of the couch. Upside down, you stared up at his cock as it hovered over your face. You wet your lips at the sight of it, waiting for him to inch closer. Gliding a hand over your strained neck, his fingers squeezed the right above the base of it.
“I wanna feel my cock right here, babygirl,” Benny said. “You gonna show me you can take it?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
You dropped your jaw open, your tongue darting out as you waited for him to step forward. Frankie’s body weight dropped on the couch above you, his hands lifting your legs onto his shoulder. As your calves settled onto his broad shoulders, Frankie lined himself up with your entrance. In one quick thrust, Frankie bottomed out, and you let out a raspy moan. Before you had a chance to make another sound, Benny slid his cock into your mouth, your tongue dragging against the veins along the length. You sputtered around him as he drove deeper down your throat, his fingers still massaging your neck with each shallow thrust.
Frankie’s thrusts grew harder, and your muffled cries were silenced as Benny continued snapping his hips forward into your mouth.
“Ain’t she so pretty like this?” Frankie grunted through each drive of his cock.
“So fucking pretty,” Benny huffed. You swallowed around him, forcing him to choke on his words. “She’s taking our cocks so well. Her mouth feels so fucking good.”
You keened at their words, arousal blooming deep within your stomach as they spoke. They were using your body any way they wanted, and you were desperate for their praise.
“You enjoy getting used like this, baby?” Frankie asked, his voice low and strained.
You couldn’t respond as Benny plunged his cock further down your throat, your jaw straining to take his length deeper. You could feel the tears cascading down your temples, your breath forced out of your nose as you struggled under his hold.
“Aw, pretty girl can’t talk?” Frankie taunted.
Frankie lifted your ass off the couch, his warm hands squeezing the supple skin as you began assaulting you with unforgiving thrusts. Your cunt clenched around his cock, sucking him in deeper until the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix. You wailed a helpless cry, saliva dripping over Benny’s cock and down your cheeks.
Your eyes blurred as your climax grew into an inferno inside your stomach. Each thrust on either side of your body plummeted your orgasm closer and closer to the surface, your heartbeat thrumming erratically in your ears. Benny hunched over your body, his hands massaging your breasts, his fingers pinching around your nipples. You arched off the couch, and Frankie kept his grip tight on your hips as he continued railing into you.
“Gonna be a good girl and cum for us, baby?” Frankie crooned.
“Mmmph.”
You couldn’t speak. You could barely make a coherent noise as your orgasm ignited inside of you, leaving you paralyzed—suspended between the bodies of two men that continued to wreck you completely as you came undone.
“Such a good fucking girl,” Frankie praised.
“Think she deserves a reward?” Benny questioned, drawing his cock from your mouth.
You heaved in lung-fulls of air, drool still dripping down your face. Benny crouched behind you, his hand fisting your hair to pull your face forward toward Frankie. Frankie’s dark eyes met yours, and he pounded deeper into you, your cries turning into humiliating whimpers.
“You want Frankie to cum inside you, babygirl?” Benny whispered, his tongue tracing along the shell of your ear.
“Y—yes,” you wailed brokenly. “Please, Frankie. Need your cum.”
Frankie’s face scrunched up with concentration as he changed the tempo of his thrusts; they were slower and more powerful. Benny’s grip on your hair remained firm, not allowing you to look anywhere but at Frankie. His tousled dark curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, his jaw clenched as he forcibly thrust into you in one final time. With a carnal groan, Frankie emptied himself inside you, slumping onto your chest with labored breaths.
“Jesus Christ,” Frankie groaned.
Benny unwound his fingers from the tendrils of your hair, peppering your cheek and neck with kisses. Frankie lifted his head to look at Benny, and you could faintly see a smirk teasing the corner of his hips.
“I think she can take a bit more. What do you say, Benny?” Frankie grinned.
“I wanna know how good that pussy feels. You gonna let me fill you up, too?” Benny asked, his teeth grazing your neck.
“God, yes,” you exhaled.
Frankie climbed off your body and maneuvered you onto all fours. Your legs wobbled against the cushions, Frankie’s cum slowly leaking from your sore cunt. Benny made his way around the couch, climbing behind your shaking body. Frankie took his spot in front of you, his large hands cupping your face and wiping away the excess saliva that still coated your cheeks and nose.
“Look at the mess you made, pretty girl,” Frankie mumbled, his eyes dancing over you ravenously.
He leaned in to kiss you, drawing his tongue over your wet lips. You moaned into his open mouth, your body tensing up with anticipation as Benny coated the head of his cock with the wetness leaking from your entrance.
“Eyes on me, baby,” Frankie ordered, pulling away from your mouth. “I wanna watch you while Benny ruins that perfect pussy.”
That was all Benny needed to hear before he broke you up, the stretch of your cunt around his cock blindingly painful for the first few seconds. Your mouth fell open as his hips pressed against your ass, every glorious inch of him stretching you wide open. A choked gasp fell from your lips as Frankie held your focus, his brown eyes watching with fervid attention.
“Benny,” Frankie said, never breaking away from your eyes. “Fuck her hard.”
Benny replied with a forceful snap of his hips that sent your body colliding with the couch. You screamed out at the savage pace he set, each connection of his hips against yours sending you into a frenzy of whimpers and sobs.
“So fucking tight and perfect,” Benny huffed between each drive of his cock. “Can’t believe you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”
“She’s all mine, Benny,” Frankie reminded him. “But I think she enjoys being shared.”
You nodded vigorously, flames licking up your nerves as Benny steered you closer to another orgasm. Your nails dug into the cushions, half-moon indentations left in their wake.
“I want you both,” you panted. “Like this.”
“Yeah, babygirl?” Benny exhaled, bending his body over yours to kiss up your spine.
Frankie dragged you in for a long kiss, a moan exhaling from his mouth into yours. You were drunk on their touch, each hand roaming your body, every kiss, every lust-filled word. You couldn’t get enough.
“Cum inside me, Benny,” you pleaded.
Benny’s arm braced around your torso, pulling you up until your back was flush with his chest. Frankie climbed over the arm of the sofa, his hands sweeping back the hair from your face. Benny brought his free hand up to Frankie, tugging at his curls until he shuffled closer. Frankie tilted his chin up and met Benny’s lips, their kisses slow and impassioned. Both of their body’s pressed harder against yours, Benny’s cock sliding in and out of you slowly, his thrusts shallow and short. You licked a path up Frankie’s neck, startling a gasp from him as Benny deepened their kiss.
The muscles in Benny’s arms flexed around your chest, his hips snapping hard one last time before his release was painting your insides. You were so fucking full of them both, your body coursing with adrenaline and pleasure. Benny slipped out of you, breaking away from Frankie’s lips and falling back against the couch.
“Come here, babygirl,” Benny urged, outstretching his arms.
You glanced at Frankie for permission—which was comical as the mixture of their cum leaked down your inner thighs. Frankie gave you a soft smile, peking your lips before guiding you down onto the couch.
Benny wound his arms around your trembling body, pressing a light kiss on the crown of your head, while Frankie settled against your body on the other side. You nestled into the warmth of their bodies, your eyes drifting shut from exhaustion.
“This was nice,” you hummed, giggling softly.
“You wanna do it again?” Frankie chuckled, kissing your shoulder.
“Maybe not right now,” you groaned.
The soreness between your legs throbbed violently, and every muscle in your body tense and stiffened. You stretched out between them, feeling both men’s heartbeats pounding against your body.
“I love you, baby,” Frankie muttered into your skin.
“I love you, too,” you exhaled.
Lifting your chin to look at Benny, you watched him eye Frankie knowingly. You could see the emotions swimming in his blue eyes, his lips parted and swollen.
“You love him, too,” you commented.
“Yeah, maybe I do,” Benny said absentmindedly.
Benny’s gaze slid down to you, and you saw it in his eyes. The passion between them, the cohesiveness of their movements with you; it was all right there. You always thought Benny loved Frankie like a brother, but maybe there was something more. You weren’t jealous; you were far from it. You wanted them both, maybe in different ways, but still… you wanted them.
“Would you do this again?” You asked, partially to both of them.
“Absolutely,” Frankie said, at the same time Benny said, “In a heartbeat.”
“Stay the night with us, Benny,” you offered.
“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” Benny sighed.
Hey DD 🙏 Once again, thanks for your ask ❤️
I wanted to know, if you don't mind, what are your favorite Pedro (and/or his characters) gifs?
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😘
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I’m horrible with GIFs 🤣 But Dieter Bravo is my main love 😍 So any involving Dieter
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Also any Frankie 😍
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Last but not least, this one of Pedro himself 🫠🫠🫠