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RIP Kabosu, who inspired one of the most influential memes of all time; Doge.

2/11/2005 - 24/5/24

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“Who do you ship this character with” me and no one else bro. It’s me and them against the world

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GLEN POWELL for the Hollywood Reporter (2024)

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bunny - one shot

Javier Peña x PhoneSexOperator!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, aliens??

A/N: Just for funsies. I’m gonna do a second part to this at some point in time. Is it considered a one shot then??? Idk. Enjoy ☎️

The first time you heard Javier Peña’s voice was in 1998.

Fresh off a call with one of your regulars, Dale, with whom you role played an alien abduction fantasy, detailing the things you would theoretically do to extract his sperm in an attempt to make an alien-human hybrid clone. You told him all about how you were wrapping your spindly, gray, extraterrestrial fingers around his cock, pumping his throbbing manhood, so warm, so deliciously human. From wherever he was, a wet slapping sound and shaky little moans filled your ears.

Sometimes you theoretically shoved things up his ass while he actually shoved things up his ass. Probing, he called it. Sometimes you’d theoretically take him in your tiny, lipless alien mouth while you sat at your kitchen counter and stretched your very human lips around a dildo, rutting up and down until you were gagging and gasping for air. Dale, on the other end, would start out whimpering no, don’t, I have a wife. Then as the squelching sounds of the dildo in your mouth grew wetter, faster, he would grunt out things like fuck yes, you fucking like that you naughty little alien?

Only after he came would he allow the façade to break, mumbling a thank you, telling you about how his wife thought his fetish was too weird to partake in this kind of role play. You said that you enjoyed his calls because it allowed you to be creative and… actually, you found it kind of hot. He said he’d talk to you soon and dropped the call.

Then the next call came in.

“Hi,” you purred, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he replied, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The dulcet baritone of his voice was smooth and sure. There was clinking and a long sip from his end, indicating that he was drinking.

“Bunny,” you told him, “What’re you drinking tonight, Javier?”

This was a fake name, of course, and was listed in your newspaper ad alongside a grainy black and white picture of a woman who was most definitely not you. Most men know this, sometimes asking what’s your real name? Or, what do you really look like? And you always tell them the same thing: I’m whatever you want me to be, handsome.

A fantasy. A shapeshifter. Custom-tailored to outfit their most depraved sexual cravings.

“Whiskey,” he answered, “How long have you been doing this… Bunny?”

As thinly-veiled as his disbelief was, you appreciated his attempt to suspend it when he said your fake name.

“About a year now,” you started off around your kitchen’s island counter, stepping heavy to let him hear your heels click-clack against the tiled flooring. That really got some men going.

The wet swallow of his throat, a slurp, then a quiet sigh. Another sip of his whiskey. He then inquired, “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied earnestly, looking up at your ceiling, studying the grooves of the light fixture hanging above you, “I get to talk to all kinds of interesting people.”

His throat rumbled in acknowledgment.

“How was your day today, handsome?” you prodded, trying to sus out what this man’s motive was for calling. Some people take a while to gather the courage to come out with it. A few just want to talk.

“It was shit,” he grumbled. The flick of a lighter, then a muffled inhale, exhale. Smoking.

“What can I do to make it better?” you asked, edging your voice along the rasp of your throat.

Javier took a long drag off (what you assumed to be) his cigarette, then said, “Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

You frowned and hummed in contemplation, searching your mind for what you think would make Bunny happy.

Then he added, “But don’t give me some horse shit answer like you’re just so happy with a cock crammed down your throat, ok sweetheart? Real answer.”

This made you laugh, and you told him, “Sure. Ok, let me think.”

“I like your laugh,” he commented softly while you were digging through your brain.

“Thank you, Javier,” you smiled, then started pacing around your island counter as you mulled over an answer that’s real, but not too real as to reveal the tender parts of yourself you keep separate from this job.

He waited patiently, sipping his drink and smoking.

“There’s a bird feeder in the garden of my apartment complex,” you confided as you leaned against the counter and crossed an arm across your soft middle, “In the morning I sit out on my deck and watch the birds while I drink coffee.”

“And that makes you happy?” he asked. His voice was flat and unbelieving.

“It does,” you confirmed, nodding your head as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, “I think it’s important to take joy in the small things. Like how the sky looks when the sun is rising. Or when I see a black-crested titmouse at the bird feeder.”

“A what?” Javier chuckled, and it was warm and deep and genuine, “What’re you, a Boy Scout?”

“Bunny scout,” you joked.

Heat spread across your face like wildfire when he laughed at this. The sound made your heart skip a beat.

“And, what makes you happy, Javier?” you asked then, dropping your voice to sultry croon.

He grunted at this. The sound of a fridge opening. Ice clattering into his glass. The glug-glug-glug of whiskey being poured.

You pushed off the counter and walked around the island again, the click-clack of your heels on tile sounding off every second like a timer.

“I suppose, the company of a beautiful woman like you is enough to make me happy.”

“I thought you said no horse shit answers,” you teased.

He laughed again, which made you smile, then he cleared his throat and admitted quietly, “I’ve been trying to figure it out lately.”

“Trying to figure out what makes you happy?”

“Trying to figure out what happiness is,” he clarified.

The salience of his admission struck you. You hummed to emphasize its poignancy, then told him, “Happiness is whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Javier was the one humming then. A long sip of his whiskey. The sound of a lighter sparking the tip of a cigarette.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you want, Javier,” you cooed.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your baggy t-shirt and biker shorts, “A red lace bra and matching panties.”

“What you’re really wearing, Bunny,” he purred, “Let me see you how you are.”

“I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” you admitted with a smirk.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructed.

You placed the phone on the counter and pulled your shirt off over your head, dropping it next to the phone. When you brought it back to your ear, you notified him, “My shirt is off.”

“Mmm, good girl,” he breathed, “Bra?”

“Not wearing one,” you told him, “I’m… topless in my kitchen right now.”

“Squeeze your tits.”

With your free hand, you graze your breast, then pinch your nipple with a whimper, “I’m squeezing my tit.”

“The other one, too.”

You comply, attending to the opposite side with another airy whimper.

“Do you still have shorts on?”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

You shimmied your shorts and underwear down to your ankles, then stepped out of them, “They’re off.”

The jingling of a belt buckle. A zip. More jingling. A soft exhale.

“I’m touching myself,” you told him as you dragged your fingertip along your seam, exploring the ridges and valleys of your sex.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you narrate your actions in a throaty whisper, “Drawing circles around it, it feels so fucking good, Javier.”

“Suck on your fingers.”

You did this, humming and licking around your digits.

“Are they wet?”

“Yes.”

“Spit in your hand. I wanna hear it.”

You gathered a wad of saliva on your tongue and spit it onto your fingers.

“Good,” he rumbled, “Rub your clit again, sweetheart.”

A whimper falls from your lips as you follow his instructions, “Oh my god, Javier.”

He groaned and the sound dripped down your center, hot and tangible as it pooled inside you.

“Are you stroking your cock?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good,” you purred, “Fuck, this feels so fucking amazing, baby.”

“Tell me more,” his voice was low and strained.

“Rubbing my swollen fucking clit, I’m so fucking wet,” you whined, and it was real, the heat gathering at your core and pooling between your legs.

“Let me hear how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

You slid your touch down your lips and spread your slick around, then sank two fingers into your cunt. With a shaky moan, you started fucking yourself, letting the wet squelch of your arousal sound off freely, breathing, “Can you hear that, Javier? How much you turn me on?”

“Oh my god, yes-” he groaned, “Are you fingering yourself?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, so you did, then he told you, “Put the phone on the ground so I can hear you. Keep doing what you’re doing, baby, make yourself feel fucking good. I wanna hear you make yourself cum.”

“Setting the phone down,” you told him, then put it to rest on the floor between your spread knees.

This man’s stern instructions swirled around in your head, filling you with fire. You followed the urges of your flesh, moaning wantonly as your hands worked your body, “Yes yes yes- just like that, Javier, that’s fucking perfect-”

You arched your back and let your eyes flutter shut, picturing this faceless stranger getting off on the sound of your moans, the wet sound of your fingers rutting in and out of your pussy. Frantic whimpers huffed from your throat as you chased this shimmering, golden orb of pleasure, “Yes, Javier, yes yes yes baby, I’m gonna cum- that’s it, Javier- oh my god yes, I’m fucking cumming-”

Your words caught in your throat. The strumming of your touch on your clit, your fingers inside you, the stranger stroking himself, it all tightened and lifted you. The swell of an orgasm overtook your body and crashed down on you. You released a shattered moan as your pussy fluttered around your fingers.

When you picked up the phone, your breath was ragged, chest heaving, “Did you get that, handsome?”

He was panting, too, “So fucking hot.”

“Did you cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I did.”

The flick of a lighter on the tip of a cigarette.

You giggled, “I wish I could have heard it.”

“Is that right?” he rumbled, taking a drag of his smoke.

“Yeah. I think it’s sexy,” you admitted, then added, “Maybe next time.”

“When can I talk to you next?”

You gave him your schedule. It became a weekly occurrence, these calls with Javi, which you eventually were given permission to call him. He was your favorite caller.

With most of your callers, there was an expectation that you would morph yourself into their fantasies. Which is fine. It’s something you enjoyed about your work as a phone sex operator. But there was something so freeing about your calls with Javi, how he wanted you to be yourself. Your real self turned him on more than any of the bullshit.

He never asked for your real name, although you could tell he wanted to know it. Every time he called you Bunny, it left his lips with a kind of disdain. Like he couldn’t stand you pretending to be someone he knew you weren’t. He opted to use sweetheart or baby instead, which you liked.

Javier was a loyal customer for two more years, until you were hired as a professor at The University of Texas San Antonio and finally had the financial freedom to quit your side gig as a phone sex operator. Truth be told, you grew quite attached to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him it was your last call when it happened. Goodbyes have never been your strong suit.

Little did you know, no goodbye was necessary. Because it wouldn’t be the last time you’d hear his voice.

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I love your shy MC series so much, and I know this doesn’t really fit in it, but I can’t stop thinking of a shy MC who had a one night stand with hangman and got pregnant saying this:

“maybe we should move in together. n-not permanently. just until the baby’s born.”

I love this:)

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader word count: 2k prompts list:)

It was just supposed to be a night of fun. A night where you completely lose sight of anything and everything. A night where in the morning you wake up in your bathtub with a half drunk bottle of tequila. It wasn't ever supposed to equal in a positive pregnancy test six weeks later.

Y/N didn't even know his number to call him. All she could remember was that his friends called him 'Bagman' but his real name was Jake. He had a stupidly perfect smile, and stupidly perfect hair. He was charming and had a bit of an accent in his speech. She could also remember they bonded over the fact they had just gotten out of long-term failed relationships. One shot led into another, and it led into another and then it led to Jake taking Y/N home, and their clothes on the floor of her bedroom.

"I have no clue what to do, Nat," Y/N said to her best friend.

"Well, I guess call the guy," Natasha said.

She couldn’t believe that her shy, sweet best friend since birth would end up in this situation either. Natasha and Y/N had always been opposites of each other in a way. Natasha was always the “wild” one in their friendship, encouraging the drinking and partying, within reason of course. 

“I don’t have his number, or-or anything,” Tears started clouding her vision as she stood up from the bed and started pacing, “My parents are going to kill me.” 

“Okay,” Natasha stood up, and grabbed her friend’s arms, stopping her from pacing, “It’ll be okay. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, they will probably be mad, but you have me. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be here the whole time, and hold your hand through anything and everything. You’re basically my sister, okay? You got this.” 

“I can do this,” Y/N said, nodding and Natasha smiled. 

That moment was six months ago, and Y/N still hadn’t found the father of her baby. She also wasn’t actively searching either. She wasn’t new to hookup culture, she knew what one-night stands were meant to be. It didn’t surprise her when this Jake dude didn’t leave his number or address on her bedside table in the morning. Y/N could hardly even remember what he looked like, except those piercing green eyes. She hoped that her baby had the same beautiful green eyes as he did. 

Natasha, true to her word, had stayed by her friend’s side through it all. Through those early mornings spent throwing up, to doctors appointments, to looking at paint swatches on the walls of the small house Y/N lived in. Natasha had a bunch of questions about this mystery guy, but out of respect for her friend, she didn’t ask. 

The two of them walked into the Hard Deck, seeing as the evening crowd was already starting to file in. Natasha had invited Y/N along to celebrate Rooster’s birthday. Rooster had also become a close friend of Y/N, through her friendship with Natasha. Rooster had tried to make a move on her, but Natasha had cornered him and told him about Y/N being pregnant and scared and to stay away. So, Rooster being the man he is, respected both of them, and helped out the best he could with things around Y/N’s house. 

“Phoenix! Y/N!” Rooster called for them as soon as they entered the Hard Deck. Phoenix nodded over at him and led Y/N over to where Rooster and the other members of the Dagger Squad were. Rooster hugged both of them, and thanked them for coming. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Bob said, as the girl sat down next to him. As the only two sober ones as of late, Bob and Y/N had gotten close. He handed her a lemonade that he ordered and she smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Bob,” Y/N said, and rested her hands on her belly. 

“Baby active?” 

“All day,” Y/N looked down at her belly just in time to see a small nudge coming from within her womb, “Running out of room in there, and they don’t like it. But I’m not entirely ready for them to make their appearance either.” 

“Soon enough, Y/N, soon enough,” Bob said, and took a sip of his water. 

The two of them fell into a conversation about their day. For both of them, it was as easy as breathing to talk to one another. Natasha thought that Bob would be a good match for her friend, and had been slowly pushing him to make a move on her. Natasha knew that Bob liked Y/N, but he was too much of a gentleman to make a move. It wasn’t that Bob was scared to take on the responsibility of being a father, it was that he respected her and didn’t want to add to the stress of becoming a mother. Bob had silently agreed to be there for her too, like Rooster and Natasha were. 

“Look who decided to show up!” Payback yelled, catching Y/N and Bob’s attention. Her heart stopped beating as she noticed those green eyes and that stupidly perfect smile, “If it ain’t Bagman!” 

“Oh my god,” Y/N let out, and Bob looked at her in worry. 

“What? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” Bob asked quickly, his voice thick with his accent. 

“What? I uh,” Y/N said, snapping out of her trance as ‘Bagman’  walked through the bar and greeted his friends, “No it’s not the baby, I um, excuse me.” 

Bob watched as Y/N got up quickly from the booth, and walked right over to Natasha. Phoenix looked up at her with a smile, but it quickly dropped seeing that her friend’s face was unreadable. Y/N quickly grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her towards the bathrooms, only to be stopped when her shoulder ran into something hard. 

“I’m sorry-” “Oh sorry-” 

“Y/N,” Jake said, his green eyes looking her up and down and widening at the sight of her baby bump, “Wow.” 

“I can-” 

“We’re gonna go get some air,” Natasha said quickly, and pulled her friend towards the back door of the Hard Deck. Once they were out of earshot of the bar, Y/N sat down in one of the chairs on the deck, and took a deep breath, “I’m not gonna ask but-” 

“He’s the father of my child.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I was not gonna ask,” Natasha said, and rubbed her forehead, “When?” 

“Well, six months ago. Two weeks after Daniel and I broke up. I went out for a drink, and Jake was there because he-” 

“Just broke up with Gwen. So you two had a one night stand and,” Natasha gestured to her friend, “Wow. I can't believe it. . . You slept with Hangman?” 

“Hangman? I thought it was Bagman,” Y/N said, and Natasha laughed, “I didn’t even know his name was Jake until we were half naked in my bed. I didn’t know a single thing about him.” 

“Oh my god! Ew! So you’re the girl he was bragging about fucking! Oh my god.” 

“Really? What did he say? Did he say I was good?” 

“Y/N!” 

“What?!” She giggled and Natasha shook her head, as the back door to the Hard Deck opened. Jake walked out apprehensively, and gave a tight lipped smile to Phoenix, “I think you two need to talk.” Y/N nodded and Natasha looked back at Jake, who was waiting by the side of the building to come over, “I’ll be right inside if you need me.” 

“I think I got this,” Y/N said and Natasha hugged her friend before heading back inside the building. Jake waited a second, before walking over to her, and sitting down in front of her. Y/N took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, feeling the glare of Jake’s green eyes on her belly. 

“How far along?” He asked. 

“Twenty-nine weeks,” She answered, and Jake sighed. She could tell by his body language, he wanted to touch her belly. Rooster had been the same way when she popped, wanting to feel it, but Natasha had smacked his hand back and made him ask, “You can touch it.” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” He looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered, and Jake shifted, placing his large hand on her bump. He felt the overwhelming sense to cry as he rubbed his hands gently over the place where his baby was. He didn’t even bother to ask if the baby was his, he already knew. Even though they spent one night together, Jake knew that Y/N wasn’t the type to go and sleep around. 

“I’m sorry I just left.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t try and find you,” Y/N said, “Even though I didn’t know where to look.” 

“I honestly was scared to stay,” Jake said, and removed his hands from her bump. She bit back a whimper at the loss of warmth from him, as he sat back in his chair, “I knew you probably just wanted one night, but I. . . I fell in love with you.” 

“Jake, I-” 

“No, you don’t have to say it,” Jake said shaking his head, “Just tell me what I can do now. Are you okay? Is the baby healthy? You look good, so I guess that means something.” 

Y/N blushed and rubbed her belly, “I’m good, baby is healthy. It’s a little girl, actually.” 

“Really? I’m gonna be a girl dad,” Jake smiled and Y/N nodded. The two sat in silence for a beat, as Jake shifted in his seat, and leaned closer to her, “Maybe we should move in together. N-not permanently. Just until the baby’s born.”

“Oh! Like in my house?” 

“Yeah, I still live in a barracks dorm, and you probably have the house set up and-” 

“I think that would be okay,” Y/N said, her neck was bright red as she blushed, “I have a guest room, currently an office, but it has a nice bed and stuff. And I mean, it would be nice having you around, not that you couldn’t have been nice early, but you didn’t know so it’s okay that you are here now and I-” 

“I get it,” Jake said, cutting her rambling off, “Would you like to meet up tomorrow? For lunch?” 

“Lunch is good,” Y/N smiled, and looked over at the window of the bar, seeing both Natasha and Bradley looking at them, “We should head back in.” Jake nodded, and held his hand out for her to take. She thanked him as she pushed herself up from the chair, and began walking back in the bar. She paused for a second and turned around to face Jake. 

“Listen, I know you are a good man, and that you want to be there for your child but. . . Jake, I have feelings for someone else.” 

Jake felt like a dagger had been pushed through his heart. He could tell that she probably didn’t feel the same about him when he mentioned that he fell in love with her seven months ago. She had been the only thing on Jake’s mind these past couple weeks, wondering where she was and who she was and what she was doing. But hearing her say it hurt even more than just thinking it. 

“I know,” Jake said, giving her a tight lipped smile, “Still not going to stop me from carrying about you or my child.”

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everyone on this show is so hot it's not fair

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okay… so I’ve been thinking… which of the guys buys you a necklace w their name/initial and INSISTS you wear it all times especially when they fuck you. i feel like the answer is definitely ramón but it could low key apply to everyone bc they all scream possessive lmao.

mmahaHAAAHAAAA 👀👀 i- i just love your brain on this hot take because WOW

first off you are so right about ramon but then secondly ??? nothing screamed truer words about this vibing with everyone and i now blame you for making me feel some type of way imagining this 🤚🏼 because they are all :) very much :)) possessive :)))

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taking damage

güero x gn!reader, 4188 words, 18+, smexy/angsty/somewhat happy

roughly inspired by bruno mars’ song, gorilla, at @criatividad-e​‘s request <3 

a/n: mentions alcohol reliance, light dom/sub dynamics, power play, marital affairs 

gracias @yourlocalspacewitxch​ for the gif!!!

The first time had been a mistake, on his part, not yours. A lapse in judgement you assume, a decision made by liquor and impulse. He had left as soon as it was over. Zipped his pants, grabbed his jacket, and gone without exchanging numbers or names. The one he’d given to the girl behind the desk wasn’t his, it went unnaturally from his tongue.

‘You can stay here,’ he’d said from the door. ‘I paid for the night.’

‘I won’t.’ Your home wasn’t far from the hotel, you were already dressing yourself. ‘You’re married, aren’t you?’ you’d asked him.

And he hadn’t answered, so you knew that he was. 

The second time had been on purpose. He knew where you worked, of course, knew when you would be there, when you could start accepting drinks and abandoning duties. He had asked you to go to him once your shift was over. ‘Come see me,’ he’d said, ‘I’ll buy us a bottle.’ It had only taken you a few minutes in the backroom to decide that you would, married or not, he had left a taste in your mouth that you couldn’t forget. Didn’t want to forget. You had thought about him every night since the first meeting, every time you’d touched yourself, which wasn’t usual of drunken hook-ups. No-one before had lingered the way he did. You wanted it again, you wanted more.

Keep reading

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I just feel like we needed a whole new sub-series based on these two....

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music: glory box by portishead

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i know we always talk about alfonso dosal being a dilf but i feel like josé maría yazpik invented dilfism

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“for bored private school boys, it was a front row seat to the action. a chance to play gangster.”

bad bunny as kitty paez. narcos: mexico. 🇲🇽

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amado / / sinaloa and tijuana

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hi bb, 1. are you taking requests? (if yes) 2. can u give us benjamin content (DILF alert) something angsty with fluff ending PLSS

I am taking requests! 🥰 I cannot promise that I will write every request, but I'll write for those I can!

You wanted to hate Benjamín so badly, but from the the very first day, it was impossible.

On the night that you learned of Mayo’s suggestion that you marry into the Arellano Félix family as the permanent solution to that perpetual blood feud, you knew he was right, and hated him for it, and made preparations anyway, even as your brother Hector shouted and swore and said it would never happen.

You drove to the party where your future husband was celebrating his cousin’s fifteenth birthday, and using a pair of your brother’s binoculars, you searched for him, pausing every now and then to compare a face to a newspaper cutout. For a villain, Benjamín was all wrong. He was slightly clumsy on the dance floor, wore a plain white shirt without even a gold chain, and laughed when a baby spit up some of her dinner on him.

Still, on the day of your wedding, right after you kissed him and under the cover of the whole church cheering, you said into his ear, “On my fifteenth birthday, Cochiloco stole me a car.” You could still picture him, grinning and gesturing at it, bursting with pride and only 19 years old himself. He had been family.

It was not until much later, when you were deep in enemy territory, the master bedroom of the Arellano Félix house, that you got your reply.

“I’m sorry,” said Benjamín. And when you said nothing, he added, “I want you to be happy here.”

You weren’t happy, of course. It wasn’t home. On a particularly bad night, you called Mayo’s home and left a threat in a voicemail that had you anxious for days afterwards, waiting to see what he might do: I’m going to tell my brother. You used me and you sold me. How long could you last without him? But then there was no reply, and that was worse than any reply could have been.

Nothing escaped Benjamín’s attention, but he never reproached you, only supported you. You kept trying to find the catch, and couldn’t. One dinner, you told him about how your father had taught you to farm, and you kept expecting for a polite, bored look to eventually glaze over his eyes, but it never did, not even when you went into the details of irrigation systems. The next day, the head housekeeper mentioned to you that if you wanted, you were very welcome to have a hand in, even completely oversee, the ten acre ranch the family had bought last year for summers. It was like that.

You waited for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Even on days when homesickness made you snappish and restless, Benjamín never failed to treat you with an old-fashioned courtesy, gentle and thoughtful. It took you weeks to realize that, although you were already married, he was courting you. He left your favorite kind of chocolate bar on your pillow, arranged for your childhood best friend to come visit when she was in town, and put up pictures of your parents on the big wall of family photos.

And he never crossed an invisible line down the middle of the bed. Eventually, despite yourself, and despite everything that had happened, you wanted him to.

Five months after your wedding, it was your brother’s birthday party, and when you felt a man pressing up behind you, you felt a sudden leap of delight and anticipation, thinking it was Benjamín. Finally.

“Are you still angry with me?” said Mayo. “You know it was the only lasting way out.” His breath tickled your ear. You had imagined this moment so many times, and yet, now that it was happening, you found it left you cold.

“I’m married,” you said.

“That’s business. But what about pleasure?”

You turned to face him, lifting your chin. You used to find the easy, assured, amused look of his to be endlessly sexy, but in that moment, you just found it infuriating. “I’m married, Ismael.”

His gaze shifted subtly. “I’ve missed you too, if you need me to admit it.”

That struck you. You had always felt that he’d thrown you aside like a plaything he was tired of, but here he was, not even drunk yet, offering himself. You had to look away.

And there Benjamín was, watching you from across the dance floor, misery clear on every line of his face. Rage, too—but then you realized that he would not lash out in the way you expected, the way Chapo or Ramón or even your brother would have. I want you to be happy, he’d said. It seemed he would let you make your choice.

You crossed straight through the dance floor, not looking to the left or the right, until you’d reached your husband, and then you kissed him. After a moment of surprise, he sank his hands into your hair and kissed you back with a passion that made you forget where you were.

When at last you broke away, he tucked a tendril of your hair behind your ear and asked, “Can we go home?”

There was another question in his brown eyes, and you knew what he meant. You put your hand on his chest.

“Yes,” you said. “Let’s go home.”

[bbbenito]

Girl I WILL BE waiting for that Ramon x natural born killers cuz now I can’t get it out of my head

oh mY GOD listen — i want to (so so bad) and i love that someone else cares about it like i do bc it’s been on my mind!! but i have NO talent whatsoever ☹️

BUT if someone wants to write about it i would be very very okay with that bc i want to read it too

[bbbenito]

song: doin time by lana del rey