#benny thots

[dameronscopilot]

dee wud it be too much to ask if u cud write a small drabble of benny doing unspeakable things to me with the gloves he had on in the movie? just,,, something about him wearing them,,,,

GOOD LORD IMAGINE BEING TIED UP AND BLINDFOLDED AND HE TEASES YOU WITH THEM

Keep the Gloves On

Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!reader

Summary: You want to explore a new kink. Benny's happy to oblige.

Word Count: 750+

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, blindfond, bondage, glove kink, masturbation, fingering, anal play, squirting, choking kink, oral fixation

If there’s one thing Benny Miller will never say no to, it’s the opportunity to indulge when you tentatively mention wanting to explore a kink. 

It’s how you ended up here—shivering with anticipation, spread out naked atop your bed, your wrists tied snugly to the headboard, your vision obscured by the silk sleep mask covering your eyes.

You have half a mind to be slightly embarrassed by the amount of arousal that’s already gathered between your legs and wetly dripping onto the sheets. But it’s worth it to hear the subtle hitch in Benny’s breath when the mattress dips under his weight as he climbs toward you, gazing at your eager cunt.

And the moment he first makes contact with your skin, spreading your thighs further apart, you can’t help the way your back arches as excitement crawls up your spine at the feeling of what you’d asked him for—the gloves.

You’ve always had a certain fixation with Benny’s large, callused hands—the way they stretch your holes open, the way they press into your body, the way he wraps them around your throat. 

But recently, you found a pair of black leather gloves while sorting through his old tactical gear, and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.

Benny loved the idea, naturally. 

But as he slips his hands beneath you and grasps the globes of your ass, you arch your toes, firmly pressing your head back against the pillow as you wonder how the fuck you’re going to last. While the restraints and blindfold sounded like something sexy and fun to pair with this in theory, in reality, the combination has your senses so on edge, you’re already gasping with desperation. 

He slides his hands up your sides, and the foreign feeling of the cool material dragging across your skin drags a needy, shameless whine from your throat. 

Benny chuckles warmly, “You like this, honey?” 

And you try to respond, you really do, but all you can offer him is a wanton moan when he begins to palm at your breasts, your nipples stiff and sensitive as he rolls them between the pads of his gloved fingers. 

Benny brings one hand to your neck, caressing your throat and squeezing before running his thumb along the curve of your jaw. Instinctually, you turn your head into his touch, your jaw slack, and he presses two gloved fingers into your mouth. 

You gag a little at first, not yet used to the feeling of the excess material between your lips, but you soon find a rhythm sucking on his leather clad digits.

“Oh fuck,” Benny groans from above you, and you know he’s reaching into his own pants right now at sight of you moaning and writhing while he finger fucks your mouth, drool running down the side of the glove.

You could come like this, tied up and blindfolded, sloppily bobbing on Benny’s fingers, listening to his surprised grunt of pleasure as he wraps his other gloved hand around his cock, revelling in the feeling of the material stroking against his shaft. 

But he’s not done with you. Not yet.

First—

You’re not prepared for the shout that falls from your lips as Benny finally slides two spit-soaked, gloved fingers into your cunt. It feels so fucking good, damp tears begin to soak the silk material pressed against your eyes. 

“More,” is all you can get out between sobs of pleasure, and Benny quickly obliges, stretching you open with a third digit.

“Holy shit, baby,” Benny breathes out, voice hoarse as he watches you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers.

He hastily shoves off the mask covering your face, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he stares down at you in wonder before leaning down to kiss you hard.

When Benny pulls away, you watch as he places the forefinger of his free hand into his mouth, coating the leather with his own saliva. And when he reaches around to tease at the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks, the feeling of the tip of his gloved finger slipping into your ass while he arches his fingers inside of your aching pussy sends you hurtling over the edge. Clear liquid gushes from your cunt as you come, your vision going hazy with the force of your orgasm as it washes over your trembling limbs.

“Keep the gloves on,” you pant out to Benny as he climbs on top of you a moment later, his throbbing, leaking cock hanging heavily between his legs.

[navybrat817]

We'll call this Titillating Tuesday.

The Triple Frontier boys are part of a military program where they're each paired with a reader for breeding purposes.

Except Tom. He isn't invited.

Could also work with the Cap trio.

That's all, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️

[thotsofadepravedwoman]

Benny Cross is the type of guy to reach back and teasingly squeeze your thigh while you two are on a ride just so he can hear your giggle.

Alternatively,

Benny cross is the kinda guy to squeeze your thighs whenever he’s between them cause the feel of your plush flesh sends all thoughts out the window. For the both of you.

[naturepunks]

too much tweening

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Game

Tagged by @trulybetty who has ESP and somehow knew I was going to spend way too much time in my weekend update talking about WIPs so she tagged me. I think - that’s what’s I’m going with. 😝 And @tinytinymenace who did more titles then I planned so I have to match because there are standards in delulu land. 🤭

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

(I will have to bend this rule a bit, there’s too many WIPs so I’ll do the 15 most recent ones. Is that a lot? Yes but so am I 😉)

Water (As of five minutes ago @magpiepills is to blame)

You Promised

Keep me warm

You sent me what?

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Two sides of the same coin

Pleasure Principle

Front Office Adjunct

My first drop of Sugar

It's Incidental

Din's in the Neighborhood

Remember Francisco

Living with Benny

Laughter, Longing, Loving

Don't play with me

So...Yeah it's a long list. I have lots of ideas, not all of them are fully baked. Some of them don't even have all the ingredients. But they're there. 😄

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @goodwithcheese @grogusmum @sin-djarin @for-a-longlongtime @megamindsecretlair @pedroshotwifey @theywhowriteandknowthings @frenchiereading @avastrasposts @legendary-pink-dot @morallyinept @papipascaaaal

Sorry if you've already done it. ☺️

[intheorangebedroom]

Pedro and Garrett groomed by Mira Chai and photographed by John Balsom

Oh Nicole I wish you'd heard the GASP I let out when I opened this. THANK YOU, it put me out of commission for a while.

Obviously I'd pick Frankie a million times over, but I definitely wouldn't say no to a FishBen sandwich either....👀

🧡HAPPY FRANKIE FISHBEN MILLER MONDAY🧡

[twsssmlmaa]

I have come to the conclusion that if you liked this

Then you 100% fell in love with this little shit

But there’s a third step. Head over heels for this baby boi

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. If you think I’m wrong… you’re wrong this entire thing is a work of art :)

[whatthefishh]

Mona, I feel like today we have both been oddly tame compared to the last few days so I'm going to share a thot with you, and I demand (affectionately and with no real obligation) a thot in return.

Right now I'm thinking about Benny Miller because I really want to start working on the mini series I have planned with Santi's sister (Reader) and him being in a secret thing.

I'm imagining Benny popping over because he forgot something the night before during dinner, and Santi is out doing whatever Santi does during the day. You're in the hot tub and Benny sees you just sunbathing, relaxing. He wasn't expecting to see you there...alone.

Oh boy....

So he steps out onto the patio, walks over to you and can't help joining you (despite having no trunks, he just gets in naked.) Imagine the way you would just melt into him the moment he gets in the water knowing big brother isn't home to stop either of you. You just collide you lips into his, his hands are running along your back and pulling you in tight.

You're excited by the feeling of his cock pressing up against your inner thigh, you start rutting on him.

"Been looking forward to getting you alone sweetheart." He would whisper in your ear, voice rough with arousal.

He slides his hand into your bikini bottoms and slips a finger between your slick folds. You let out a quick gasp as he pushes it into you.

"Oh, honey, you're awful cute when I have you all flustered, aren't you?" He says, sliding his finger over your walls.

All of a sudden you hear a truck door slam shut, and panic takes all the feeling from your body.

Santi's home...

yeah we’ve been pretty slutty ngl

Miss ma’am, I don’t know how to react rn lmfao

if I was Santi’s sister (fml I don’t wanna think like that) I would pounce on the idea of him not being home, too, knowing he’s so fiercely protective of anyone he considers family!!

So… you’re going to write this one, right???!!!!

I will return the smutty favour as soon as I can (which is when I get back to my laptop lolol)

[reveluving]

am I in dire need for some thoughts about our fav men rn?

absolutely.

yall know what to do

I'm in desperate need for either:

Rick

Stephen

Ed

Benny

Price

Clyde

y'know the drill; it can be fluffy or sexy, or both (pls). a prompt or an essay is up to you 🧎🏻‍♀️. go go! 📭

[lanegritaalma]

Did I just fuck up on accident thinking these Benadryl weren’t coming for my neck? 🤔 Maybe maybe! But this sleep is going to be atomically satisfying 🥰

[dameronscopilot]

okay another one because of who I am.

I’m thinking about Benny and how he would behaved if he was…blindfolded.

18+

let me take this one step further—Benny's blindfolded, but you're still the one laid out bare for him across the sheets, wrists bound and tied to the headboard.

you watch as Benny feels his way across the naked planes of your body. he takes his time—more than usual—running his callused fingers across the soft, supple skin of your breasts, mouthing at your pebbled nipples, nosing at your bellybutton, nipping at your hip bones. it's like he's trying to memorize each part of you with his lips and tongue, painting a picture with teeth and saliva.

he can't see the way your mouth falls open, the way your eyes are half-lidded as he dips lower between your legs. all he can rely on are hearing the breathy sounds as he teases you, feeling the quivering of your thighs and the dampness at your core as he slides a finger in.

[thotsofadepravedwoman]

Benny 1000% wakes up in the middle of the night just to watch your face as you sleep cause he’s just so in love and doesn’t really know how to say it :((((((

[triplefrontierbabe]

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last updated: Feb 1, 2025

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[wildemaven]

common thread | frankie morales

wm masterlist / frankie masterlist

-> pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

-> words: 2060

-> content warning: 18+ blog; smut smut smut, there might be a plot- there might not be, benny’s fighting, alluding somewhat to anxiety but no real mention of it, established relationship, unprotected p in v (not mentioned but reader is on BC, otherwise wrap it folks), mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of drinking, reader wears Frankie’s shirt but no other descriptive features of reader, nipple play, labeling dubcon just to be safe, consent not mentioned but implied within their established relationship, implied somnophilia but very vague, kissing, shared orgasms, I think that’s everything- please don’t hesitate to let me know if I missed anything.

-> notes: was this born purely from the fact that I own said shirt and that I might have had thots of stealing it from frankie… yep! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to my thots and helping me make sure some things worked together. And for enlightening me on the word spooge. Anywho, I don’t even know what this is really— hopefully you enjoy it.

You're lost in the moment. Grateful for the way your mind is able to lend such vivid imagery. Manifested  bursts of him against the darkness, intermittent flashes of Frankie dancing across your eyelids.

His unrestrained smile you so frequently witness, teeth and dimple bared with an exuberant ease. His eyes, packed with millions of different shades of brown and gold into the smallest little pools of warmth, express everything he needs to say without uttering a single phrase. His voice wraps around you with a smokiness, a tonality that seeps deep into your bones, metastasizing himself in every bit of you. But it’s nothing compared to the real thing. 

*

A memory from earlier in the evening trickles in. Frankie’s shoulders relaxed, his laugh unobstructed by lingering weighted thoughts. Completely surrounded by the sweeping lights and obnoxious yelling that’s accompanied by one of Benny’s fight nights. 

His hand rests comfortably between where your legs cross, tucked in and with zero desire to move unless necessary. His body slumped back in the metal folding chair that sits next to the one you’re occupying, Santi in one flanking the other side of him. Even while deep in a conversation with Santi, he still manages to oscillate his attention between his best friend and you, never once making you feel unnoticed by him. 

Once Benny takes the ring, Frankie’s reserved demeanor shifts into sobered excitement. His fists clenched and slightly jabbing the air out of pure ritualistic habit, mirroring every punch delivered to the bloodied opponent sparring against Benny. 

Frankie hangs back after the final call is made and Benny’s arm is thrown upward in victory. Late nights at the gym with the blonde fighter had paid off. He’d googled rigorous drills to run Benny through nightly for a month straight to prepare- jab, cross, jab to the body -Playfully showed you his own wonky technique in the middle of the kitchen while you stirred garlic into the simmering marinara sauce you had started when he called to let you know he was heading home one evening. 

Benny’s bruised body dangles over the metal cage, a triumphant wail rips from his throat as Will and Santi grab at him, engrossed in their own fight to congratulate Benny while fending off other spectators and screaming women. 

Frankie pays no mind to the celebratory explosion shared between his buddies. A squeal of surprise comes from somewhere within you melds with a growled C’mere as Frankie’s arms pull you closer to him. His arms forming a net around you, stronger than any fisherman had ever thrown out to sea, sheltering you from the dispersing crowd. You grab onto his tan canvas jacket, the material rough and gritty, but it withstands the stress of your grip grounding you to him as your breath is stolen from your lungs. Frankie’s lips fuse to yours, pursuing a more secluded adaptation of celebrating. His mouth still tastes of the tapped beer he’d been sipping on throughout the fight, the hoppy bitterness coated on his tongue is no rival for the sweetness that is Frankie. The kiss coming to an unhurried close, soft lingering pecks breathe into him thanking you for supporting him, supporting Benny. I love you’s and Let's head home lead to rushed goodbyes and rain checks for drinks later in the week— no time wasted milling about with only you on his mind. 

*

Your lashes flutter in an unrushed manner, kissing the tops of your cheeks with each crisp fatigued breath you take in. Brief glimpses of his brawny silhouette move just outside of your closed off vision, melding with the soft light that pours in from the hallway. 

His whiskeyed tone cuts through the hazed filled air, pulling you back into this real time pleasure seeking dimension. 

“Baby— fuck! Fuck, Babe you feel so goddamn good!” Hot and humid syllables fanning across your neck, mixing and reformulating  with the brininess of your skin. 

He shows you he means it with each intentional move he makes. Every bit of him in motion, diligent and relentless. 

The weight of Frankie settled snugly between your legs. His hips flexing against your inner thighs with each calculated thrust, exerting a carnal like rhythmed pace.  

He’s intoxicating, a divine ambrosial tonic. The fiery elixir is so addictive and sweet, you slowly sip your allotted daily servings. Always selfishly craving more of him. Everywhere. At once. 

There’s an eagerness that drips from his saccharine tongue, intent on pleasing you sufficiently. His words drumming against the hollow channels of your ears. Begging. Coaxing. Praising. 

“That’s it, Babe— c-can you give me one more? I need you to come with me!” His lips brush over yours. All full and red from how you like to draw them in your mouth, ardently sucking and rolling them between your teeth. Your tongue soothing over the fleshy skin, offering a tempered smile at the way he grieves the sensation. “I know you can, Hermosa, you’re almost there. Fuck, baby! Love watching you fall apart— one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

Frankie’s never showy or boastful. It’s not even luck that he relies on. It’s endless learning and knowing exactly what makes you tick. His own desires secondary to yours. The steady drag of his cock is  sturdy enough, your velvety walls claiming him as their own for the time being. 

Something pricks at you. Somewhere below the surface. A euphoric flame alit. Ignited by Frankie’s earnestness. Burning slowly through your cresting body. 

It’s a mirroring of pleasured expressions. Brows contorted. Mouths softened, hanging open. Lips grazing the other’s briefly. Noses bumping and nudging. A synchronous exchange of explosive breathy moans, reverberating through your chest. 

“Mírame. Let me see you— all of you.” 

Your vision is fuzzy. Slowly adjusting to the scene before you. There he is, your Frankie. More beautiful and handsome than you remember. His skin flushed with a twinge pink. His own eyes are heavy with an emphatic desire. A single clump of sweat drenched hair curls to a point, swaying against his forehead. His jawline sharp and nearly unhinged as he stares down at you— a man with a need to satiate and protect you.  

“Francisco—“ A breathless plea. His namesake called out to him. The sweetest sounding voice he could ever hear, mesmerized by the way it dances off your tongue. 

“Yeah! You look so fuckin’ good like this, Hermosa. Wearin’ my lucky shirt and lookin’ so goddamn sexy in it, too. Love it when you wear my shit.” 

*

His shirt. Or so he thinks. Technically it did start out that way, being his shirt and all. It came about as the result of a beer mishap a few years ago. A rowdy group knocking into his frosted cup, ice cold beer sloshing over the brim, soaking his shirt completely. 

With only minutes until Benny’s match, it was a mad dash to a closing thrift shop across the street. Nearly turning their closed sign on him, Frankie flashed his pearly whites, pleading with the sweet woman for just a shirt to replace his beer soaked one. 

The announcer's voice echoes into the night sky, signaling the next match was starting soon. Frankie grabbed a single hanger from the rack. No time to inspect or deliberate on the last minute purchase, tossing more than enough cash on the shop counter and bidding the shop owner a thanks ma’am, goodnight. Frankie frantically ripped the soured shirt from him, tossing it in the trash can outside the event doors. Pulling on the new-to-him threadbare t-shirt and slapping his worn hat back on his head as he went in search of you. 

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. A soaked in beer shirt replaced by a beer branded one. No mistaking the faded Budweiser logo printed across the back. A smaller, less in your face, but still obvious enough, strategically positioned on the front. He wouldn’t have hated it initially if he actually liked the stuff, preferring Stella Artois that got him into this situation. 

Benny won his fight that night. Was it all his hard work paying off? Surely. Or was it a newly acquired beer shirt bringing him some extra luck? Frankie thinks a bit of both. From then on that shirt was worn every fight night, whether Frankie was in attendance or not, Benny winning his first title at the end of the season. 

Frankie was wearing the shirt tonight, too. Until he wasn’t. Picking up where he had left off as soon as the front door clicked closed, now alone, with zero onlookers and strobing lights. The dim lit hallway was as far as you both made it before he had you pressed against the wall. Your hands scrambling to remove every stitch of clothing from him. Needing more of him, more skin to touch. His shirt thrown onto the pile of your already removed clothes. 

It wasn’t long before Frankie was unwrapping your legs from his waist, your back slowly sliding down the wall until your feet hit solid ground. An agreement made to order from your favorite restaurant as you both slipped on an article of clothing from the heap of clothes— Frankie grabbing his black boxers and you swiping his lucky shirt. 

Your shirt. For now, your shirt. Parading around the house in only the vintage loose knit beer branded shirt. The neck and sleeves tattered and frayed. All these years you and Frankie had possessed it, only added to its distressed appearance. Frankie’s musky pheromones now the only thing this beloved shirt is ever saturated in. 

It’s how he finds you hours later. After you had called it a night, eyes were too tired and body beyond exhausted to focus on the movie he picked out. The t-shirt being the only thing veiled over your sleeping form. Its thin worn material leaves little to Frankie’s ardent imagination. The hem hardly draped over your bare hips. 

Frankie watches you shift in your sleep, the shirt sitting higher now, exposing more of you to him. His cock twitches. A steady drip of his spend slips from your soaked cunt. He’s transfixed by the sight of it. Palming himself through his boxers, not even fazed by how hard he is already. He suppresses the urge to wake you, savoring how serene you look all splayed out on the bed. 

“Fuck—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. 

*

A choked sob is the only response you can give him. Your brain far too flustered to conjure up any sort of coherent argument about the shirt belonging to you at this moment. 

The well loved garment now cropped over your chest, all bunched and twisted. The logo, now broken lines of illegible letters, lost in the rolls of fabric. Frankie had slowly peeled it higher for his own viewing pleasure. Losing himself in the soft bounce of your breast, brought on by the way he rolled his hips at a languid pace. 

It begins to emerge. A coiling tension forming, building, tightening with every tempoed thrust Frankie delivers. Massaging that sacred spot, triggering your inner walls to grip him with an immense force. 

He senses it instantly. The telltale signs of the cresting moment.  An inferno of heated arousal  burns through his lower abdomen. 

“Fr-Frankie! I’m close— oh god!” 

Surrendering. Dissolving into a puddle of pleasure. Back rigid, arching off the bed. Your nipples damp and taut, as Frankie’s tongue traces around the hardened peeks. Breath hitching as your orgasm splinters through you. White noise cutting into the air. 

“I can feel you, baby— fuckfuckfuck!” 

Time slows. Your name on his lips. A single word he recites delicately, an intimate poem for only you. His release is a welcomed warmth as it coats your pulsing cunt, filling you for the second time tonight. 

Your finger trails down his back. Gliding through the pool of sweat that’s gathered at the base of his spine. Dame un beso, Francisco. A lazy slow press of his lips, your mouth naturally parting to him— an unhurried kiss, your tongue reacquainting with his. 

Collapsing into the bed, Frankie pulls you into his depleted body. Too tired to care about anything but sleep. His hand finds its way under his shirt that you’re still wearing, resting where your heart beats for him forevermore. 

[therealslimshakespeare]

Fine fine!!!! Let’s talk about Lu and Benny 😁😁😁

I thinkkkk maybe she has never ridden a guy before Benny because erm. I don’t think she likes facing away during sex but facing towards would reallyyyyy sorta. Emphasize ur breasts in a way no other position really does? But with Benny I think ms girl lovesssss it and good for her 🥳🥳

Oh I have such thots. Yall have heard me scream about this before but you’re gonna have to hear it again.

Totally canon to me about the facing each other, I headcanon that so much of what she endured was not and as a result it’s a total trigger. Benny and Li probably get partially past that but that’s much later.

Ok for now!!! Yall have heard me scream but here I go again— first time the have sex, it’s stuck in my head that it’s in a later summers evening on the porch swing and damn right- she rides him. Yes they’ve done so much fooling before but their first penetrative intercourse happens like this and sweet Lu flys to heaven it’s so good. Not just the sex. Though, being able to take it at her pace, scratch the itch she’s been feeling for him for ages, it’s all good. But she loves to watch his face, to kiss him, and then, she’s also got her dress clutched high to watch him go in and out, finding the sight utterly enchanting, wonderful, perfect, it makes Benny blush now much she watches and sucks her lip in like she’s not watching themselves do it.

He totally tells her not to bounce when she winces from “you’re so long Benny”, gently guides her into grinding and swirling her hips. It’s so very much like dancing but better she decides she’s never dismounting

[eddiemunsonscheckeredboxers]

MDNI 18+ only

Just having thots about stumbling into the house during a massive thunder storm after running in with Eddie's leather jacket draped over your head to keep your hair from getting wet (it's too late, it's already soaked, but he's nothing if not a gentleman). You guys are just coming back from a late night date at Benny's that was rushed to an end when the rain started coming down as if from a spout. You head to the bedroom to grab some towels and warm comfy clothes for you both to change into as Eddie gets the fireplace going. You both settle on the floor in front of the fire place, surrounded by blankets, after pulling on the clean clothes and towel drying his frizzy curls a bit. You're chatting and laughing about the luck you've seem to run out of for this week's date night. But it didn't really matter. Being cozied up next to each other by the fireplace feels like luck. Luck to have found love in each other and to have cultivated it into a life together. Soon the laughter dies down, the chatting turns to low whispers which are soon silenced by tender kisses. Not long after, the fresh clothes are discarded around the living room as you pour your love into each other, so impossibly close, basked in the warmth of the flames.