#Santiago garcia fanfiction

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[melodygatesauthor]

Goodnight, Princess

Yandere Dad's Best Friend - Santiago Garcia X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - For @romana-after-dark's Dead Dove December event!

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

This fic was written in first person from Santiago's perspective. I know that's not normally something I do, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it hehe <3

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, non-con, dubious consent, rape, sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, masturbation, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, non-consensual somnophilia, intoxication, implied murder, dad's best friend, age gap, voyeurism, hidden cameras. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 5.7k

I should’ve put a stop to it the second I realized it was you on the other side of that wall.

Don’t ask me how I knew. A good guess? A hunch? Maybe I’d known you so long that I could tell, based on some deep ingrained instinct, exactly what your lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. You sucked on it like you knew what you were doing, like it wasn’t a challenge for you to take something so big in that pretty little mouth.

I recognized the sound of your moans almost right away. The hum of your voice when you started sucking my dick was the same sound you made at dinner the other night when you popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your mouth. Does your dad know you’re doing this? Do you care? Do you ever worry about what he might say if he finds out?

Don’t worry princess, I'll keep your secret. 

Our secret.

I bet you never thought I would find out about your slutty little side job. To be entirely honest, I didn’t think I’d find you working at a place like this. If you know me at all, and I know for a fact that you do, then you’d know I’m a lonely man. Years of serving in the military and the endless night terrors have made it difficult to find any sort of real relationship, so I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs, sweetheart.

Everybody jerks off, and I’m no exception. I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been in my room, cock in hand while I watch some crappy porno to get myself off. Every once in a while though, I like to treat myself to a little something more. Most people treat themselves to some kind of dessert, or a nice bottle of wine, but I like to treat myself to a night at Club BJ where all the dirty men go to get their rocks off.

I never thought I’d find you there.

Not a chance in hell did I think for even a second that you would be sucking random cocks on the other side of a gloryhole to earn a few extra bucks. You’re so good at it though, princess. How did you learn to swirl your tongue like that? Hm? Was it all the boys at college who taught you how to do that? Did they tell you what a pretty little girl you are while your lips were stretched around them?

They better have. They better have said thank you when they finished all over that beautiful face too.

I couldn’t speak to you. I couldn’t let you know it was me on the other side of that wall, so I hope the $200 tip I left you gets the point across. 

When I got home tonight, you were running through my mind like a fucking hamster on a wheel. I’m not sure what to do now, but I can’t shake how bad I want to go back to the club for another round. I’d pay thousands, probably even tens of thousands, just to have more…

But I can’t do that. Not to you, and not to your dad.

That was the first and only time I’m going to know what it’s like to feel you sucking my cock.

—

There’s no possible way for you to know what you do to me, well, for you to know that it was me on the other side of the hole that you were making feel so fucking good. I’m coming back again, despite promising I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go, but I fucking can’t. You’re like a goddamn siren luring me back to that shithole, and I can’t resist your call.

I’ll be back on Friday, because that’s the night they set the girls up with their asses sticking out through the wall. I would assume the club has you bent over some kind of table on the other side of that wall? I’m not sure, but Friday can’t come soon enough. I feel like I need you.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at me the way you did when I saw you today at your dad’s for dinner. Were you looking at me like that on purpose, sweetheart? I mean, you must be…right? Or have I completely lost my shit?

I probably lost my shit, let’s be honest.

I’ve known your dad since high school. I even helped him beat up a guy that was hitting on your mom back when she and your dad had just started dating. I’m really not a bad guy, and I’ve never looked at you like this. I mean it. But how can I look at you any differently now? How can I look at you any differently after what you did to me? What you did for me.

“Santi, can you pass the butter?” You asked, looking at me, probably no different than usual but I couldn’t think of anything other than those pouty lips wrapped around my dick again.

Did you notice the way my hand shook when I handed you the butter dish? Maybe not, but they were trembling and to be honest it was fucking annoying. I’m a man in his late thirties and I can’t get a grip on the feelings I’m developing for my best friend's goddamn kid. It’s wrong, disgusting, hell I’d kill someone if you were my kid.

But you’re not, and I can’t fucking help it, even though I tried.

Maybe someday, if you ever find out about any of this, I’ll tell you about how much I hated myself (hell, I still hate myself sometimes), when I came home with that post nut clarity. That might’ve been the best blowjob of my life, but I stood in front of my mirror for a good ten minutes trying to tell myself that I’d never go back to that hellhole, Club BJs. I meant it with all my heart when I said it over and over like a mantra.

Now I’m stuck though. I’m stuck thinking about you bent over with a wall separating the top half of your body from the bottom with countless men fucking you until you’re so full of cum you looked like a damn overstuffed pastry. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to have at least one of those men be someone that cares about you.

I guess I’ll have to be the one to do it. I guess this is how I’ll justify doing something I know I shouldn’t.

I’ll see you on Friday, princess.

—

It makes me feel a little bit better to know that every man in there is at least checked for STDs before he gets to fuck you. Surely you wouldn’t have signed up to work at a place like this if they weren’t. You’re smart, you’ve always been so smart. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.

Still not clever enough to know that I was one of those men who stood behind you that night. In fact, I was your last customer of the night. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen, those guys really stretched you out and fucked you good didn’t they? Don’t worry, princess, I took good care of you and gave your little hole a break. I won’t lie, it took everything in me not to use you the way they did, but I’ll do that another time.

Tonight I was on my knees for you, grabbing onto both of your asscheeks and spreading you out so I could clean up the mess those filthy men made of my little princess. You sounded so surprised, I heard you gasp, when I started eating you out. Did you like that? It sounded like you did. I could feel your thighs shaking and at some point you even started rocking back and forth like you wanted more.

Maybe you wanted me to fuck you. Were you hoping that the mystery man on the other side of the wall would clean you up and then fuck his own cum into you too? Or maybe you were happy to have the break. Either way, I licked your swollen clit until I could hear your pretty moans on the other side and feel your cunt throbbing against my tongue. Your slick tastes so good sweetheart, can’t believe you made something so delicious all by yourself.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You asked me. I could almost hear the desperation in your voice, like you were begging me to come back and take you.

“No.” I said firmly, faking a deeper voice than my own.

Next time I will though, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t want anyone else.

—

The same night I ate you out I rushed home to jerk off. It sounds crude to say, but fuck I couldn’t help it. The taste of your pussy was still on my lips. I could still smell you soaked into the stubble on my chin and upper lip. I’m making a mental note to snag a pair of your panties when I come over for the barbecue at your dad’s tomorrow night. Maybe that will help get me through this mess I’m in. Maybe it will help me stop this shit.

I know I can’t keep doing this, but the feeling I get when I’m scrolling through your instagram photos from last summer in your bikini with my cock squeezed in my hand is incredible. I’m looking at those perfect tits hidden beneath such a thin layer of fabric, and your pretty rear is barely covered at all.

When I came it’s like I was possessed, blowing up a picture of your face just so I could imagine myself coating it in all of me. I don’t even really want to talk about how hard it was to clean that mess off my phone.

I feel like I’m losing myself in the depraved thoughts and fantasies I’m having of you. I woke up with soaked sheets and I thought I fucking pissed myself, but I didn’t, it was…something else. I’d dreamt of you. I can’t remember exactly what was happening in that dream, but it must’ve been good, and I’m annoyed that I still can’t remember what it was about.

—

A small part of me, the part of me that still had some morals left, was hoping you’d be working your day job. (honestly I can’t even remember what your day job is, aren’t you a housekeeper? Or a waitress or something?) At least if you were working I wouldn’t have to see you. I wouldn’t have to think about you more than I already was. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have had to sit there and watch you laugh with your ‘friend’ that you’d invited over.

You told your dad when you introduced him, “we’re just friends dad.”

You said it with such an attitude that both your dad and I knew better. You might’ve thought you were just friends, but that guy wanted more, and I knew you were going to give it to him. I could tell by the way you looked at him when you thought no one was paying attention.

I bet you didn’t think I’d hear you both making out in your room that night, but your moans call me now like a moth to a flame. The other barbecue guests had gone home, and your dad was drunk and passed out in his recliner, and I heard you faintly over the hum of the crappy reality show on tv. I didn’t pause the show, I didn’t want to wake up your dad, so I went upstairs silently, masked by the sound on the tv.

Initially, I wanted to walk in there and rip this kid off of you, giving him a few vicious but empty threats before sending him on his way with his tail between his legs. Your voice stopped me in my tracks though.

“Shh, I don’t want my dad to hear us,” you whispered, followed by a sweet giggle.

He won’t, princess. I thought, as though it were me you were talking to and not this loser.

You’d left your bedroom door open, per your dad’s request, such a good little girl. Despite being a grown woman, you still did what your daddy told you, and that’s the only reason I was able to hide in the bathroom and hear you get fucked while I jerked off and imagined I was with you instead of…whatever the fuck his name is.

“Oh god!” You whined, making my body shudder.

That guy doesn’t talk much, and that made it all the easier for me to imagine myself in his place.

When you said, “mm, harder, please…”

I was right there to say, “anything you want, sweetheart.”

I tried to move my hand in time with the light thump of your bed against the wall. It helped. What didn’t help was the fact that I could tell how little you were enjoying yourself. You were making the same sounds you made when you were ass out at the gloryhole. I knew I could do better, I knew I could make your body shake with pleasure like when I was kneeling down behind you with my tongue working overtime on your sensitive clit.

You were pretty good at faking it though, good enough that I was a leaking mess, precum dripping all down my shaft while I worked myself behind the wall your bedroom shared with the bathroom. I really wanted to go in there, tell that guy to get lost and give you the night of your life, but I didn’t. Instead I stood there, spilling a few globs of cum into some toilet paper and calling it good enough.

I was quick to head back downstairs before you even knew I was up there in the first place. That guy had the audacity to say goodnight to me in the kitchen on his way out the door. I let that go pretty quickly because then it was just you and me alone in the kitchen while your dad slept soundly in the living room.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you for the pleasure of taking care of you, of making sure that you got off too, but I bit my tongue. Instead we made small talk about how your college was going and you asked me about Benny, Frankie and Will. 

For a moment I had forgotten about all the things that transpired between us, or that I’d done while thinking about you, and you were just my best friend’s kid again. We were just two people who had known each other for a long time, catching up and making small talk. Then you had to bend over in your shorts, and my cock ignored its usual refractory period to spring alive and nag for attention again.

“You okay, Santi?” You’d asked so innocently, as if I didn’t know what that mouth was capable of, or what that body could take.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I’m not fucking fine, but that doesn’t matter.

—

You slept like a rock that night, not even stirring in the slightest when I grabbed your panties out of your hamper by the closet. They didn’t look particularly fancy, so I assume you won’t miss them, will you? Doesn’t matter anyway, you’d never expect that I’m the one who took them.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disgusting I felt when I got home the next morning and I had placed your panties on my bed in front of me like a prize I’d won. I think I stared at them for at least a full ten minutes before I picked them up again and put them in my nightstand. I’ve never been a “panty sniffer” and I tried to convince myself that just knowing I had them in my possession was enough.

Have you ever read The Tell-Tale Heart? I remember when I was in high school I had to, and it stuck with me for some reason. Your underwear in my nightstand reminded me of that story in some ways. It’s like all I could hear were your moans in my ears and no matter where I went in the house the temptation to smell the remnants of your cunt on that fabric was following me.

So finally, here I am, two weeks after you first sucked my cock, and I can shamefully admit that I did it. I smelled them, and sweetheart, you smell so much better without all that cum inside of you. Of course the panties can’t compare to the real thing, which I don’t know if I’ll ever smell without six loads of spend inside, but god I hope I get the privilege one day.

Or maybe I hope I don’t.

I’m still so torn between the fact that you’re my best friend’s kid, and the way I want to bury my dick so far in that pretty little cunt that you’re seeing stars.

—

I was first in line tonight. It’s Friday night so your ass was out again and untouched this time. You weren’t wet yet which excited me for some reason. It meant I got to have the honors of making you nice and slick.

My hand looks so big against your ass, princess. I wish I could show you. That was me who rubbed your clit, making you shake and whine for more on the other side of the wall. I’m the one who slipped my thick middle finger in that greedy little hole, and then my index finger, and then the ring finger.

I’m guessing you liked it based on how slippery you got, and how much you moaned on the other side. Do you know how dedicated your customers are? One of them got pissed at me for taking too long with you. I can’t say I blame them, your pussy is perfect sweetheart.

God the feeling of sliding my dick between those pretty pussy lips is like nothing I’ve ever felt. As I bottomed out, I felt your walls were squeezing around me like you wanted me deeper, so of course I pushed in more, all the way until I couldn’t go further. You gasped like you hadn’t felt a hundred dicks inside you before mine. 

I slid back again and slammed into you. I heard you begging me to keeping going, and saying, “fuck you’re good, holy shit!”

It was so hard not to say all the filthy things I wanted to when I fucked you, princess. I wanted to tell you how good you looked like that, pussy lips split around my cock like it wanted to swallow me whole. I wanted to ask you if you would like me to stick my thumb in your ass but decided to just try it anyway and see how you reacted.

You liked it.

At least it seemed like you did, your cunt clamped down around my dick like a damn vice grip the moment my thumb popped through your tight little hole. Did you like having something in your ass sweetheart? It’s shocking how tight you are, given how often I know you’re getting fucked. Some of the guys coming in behind me were big, some even bigger than me, but you don’t like them as much as you do when I fuck you, right? Of course not, because you don’t sound like that when you’re with them.

I caught a small glimpse of your eye through the hole. There was a small gap between the wall and your hips and you were looking at the same time I was. Did you see me? Did you have time to realize who I was? Did you come right then and there because you liked the idea of your dad’s best friend fucking you until you were too spent for anyone else?

Your orgasm forced me to come at the same time you did. I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like to spill my load inside of you like I’d wanted to for so long. I remember so clearly being pushed up against your ass, pulling my thumb out of your hole so I could squeeze your hips and pull you over my dick further. It’s like I was willing every ounce of it to fill you up so full that no one else could. It’s like I was trying to make sure that when you look in the mirror a few months from now, you’ll remember the feeling of the man who fucked a baby into you.

I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I know that you’re on birth control. I know that no matter how many times I fuck you, the chances of you actually getting pregant are slim, not that I’d want to get you pregnant anyway. That would be too much, and I don’t want to go too far.

I’m not going to go too far.

—

I went to your house today.

I already had an excuse planned if I somehow got caught while you and your dad were out. If you or your father saw me, I’d say I came back for my hat. It’s not a total lie, I did leave my hat behind, but neither of you needed to know it was on purpose.

Do you realize how much dust has collected on the little stuffed bear you have on the shelf facing directly across from your bed, sweetheart? I doubt it, but it does make for the perfect place to put the small camera I bought.

I feel so fucking gross I can hardly stand to look at myself. But I can’t stand not to watch you touch yourself either. The glory hole is great, but I want to see that pretty face when you’re coming so hard you can’t breathe right, and I can’t do that when I’m on the other side of a fucking wall can I?

Seeing you later that night while I was at my own house, fist closed around my cock and watching you play with yourself is worth all the self loathing in the world. I had the camera feed pulled up on my laptop, and I could see you walking over to your dresser. God, what an array of toys you have. Do you have all those toys because you like them? Or is it because you haven’t found someone who knows their way around your body yet?

If it’s the latter, I promise you won’t need those things once I’m done with you.

Fuck, princess. The one you picked out is so damn big. I’ve seen you fit some pretty big cocks in that little hole, but I was shocked to see you squeezing lube around the head of that thing and gliding it over your pussy lips. You took a deep breath. Does it hurt to take such a fat silicone dick like that? 

Fuck, I’m glad I put the camera where I did. Who had you so wet like that? Hm? Were you thinking about anyone in particular? Can you even get that entire dildo in there? I hated to admit how much I liked watching you struggle. My cock leaked so fucking much I thought I was going to come too fast, but I kept it together.

You finally pushed it in, and I’m so damn proud of you princess. You had a really hard time going all the way though, didn’t you? That tight little pussy of yours was stretched to its limit and you were only halfway in there. Why do you even have a dildo that size if you can’t get it all the way in your cunt? Are you trying to stretch yourself out for someone? You don’t have to stretch yourself for me, I’d be happy to take care of that for you myself.

I watched you push it in even more, I was so focused on the furrow of your turned up brow and the way you bit your lip while I stared. We both exhaled the moment you managed to fit the entire thing in. Your eyes rolled back like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. You really do enjoy being stuffed full, don’t you, sweetheart?

You started fucking yourself with it, the sounds of your wet cunt hit my ears like the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I stroked myself in time with your movements, my eyes focused right on your face, and my cock throbbed every time you moaned. Wasn’t your dad home tonight? Shouldn’t you be a bit quieter when you’re doing stuff like that? Maybe you just don’t care if he hears you.

You started fucking yourself faster so of course I was jerking myself harder, trying to keep up with you without losing it too quickly. It didn’t take long for you to come though. Did you like the feeling of that toy that much? You gushed around it, you choked back some moans but several other soft whimpers escaped, filling your room and hitting my ears through the camera feed. I came too, coating my knuckles and my stomach with so much cum I didn’t know I was even capable of producing that much.

Why’d you have to ruin it? Huh?

It was such a good fucking orgasm for both of us, and then I heard you say a name. It wasn’t my name though, was it, princess? I don’t know why that bothers me so fucking much. Maybe it’s because in some twisted way I’ve managed to convince myself that you were putting on that private show just for me. So if you did do it for me, then I don’t want to hear you saying some other guy’s name while you’re fucking your self like that sweetheart. 

I just don’t.

—

I lost it today.

I really fucking lost it today, princess.

I found that guy. You know the one who fucked you the other night while I jerked off in the bathroom? That ‘friend’ of yours? The one whose name you called out instead of mine?

I found him.

I…

—

Did you miss me, sweetheart? I’m sorry, but I had to leave for a while, at least until things quieted down, and until you weren’t sad anymore. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. I would probably do it again a thousand times if I had to.

You seemed fine during dinner at your dad’s tonight. I don’t really think you were that upset over the guy anyway, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear his name come out of that pretty mouth again. Ever.

After too much wine during (and after) dinner, I carried you upstairs. You never could handle your liquor. Remember when you were only eighteen and I would let you sneak a few shots under your old man’s nose when he wasn’t looking? Your dad was sleeping when I put you down gently in your bed. Your skin is so fucking soft it killed me to step away from you.

Your eyes opened for a moment meeting with mine. I felt my gut stir at the sight of you biting your lip. Why were you doing that to me? Didn’t you know how that would affect me? I couldn’t resist the way you looked at me that night. No one would’ve been able to. It’s not fair for you to put me in that position and expect that I’m just going to walk away. When I think back to it, this was all your fault, princess.

“Santi,” you said sweetly.

I almost climbed on top of you right then when you grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I almost grabbed your throat and fucked you through your shorts, but I held back.

“What, princess?” I asked you, putting a caring hand on your shoulder, trying to fight back my more primal urges screaming in my head.

You shivered, “I-mm-need something towearto mm-bed,” you slurred out.

I could see the curve of your hip disappear into your too-short shorts. I really don’t want you going out in public wearing things like that. I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. I hope it’s comfortable, sweetheart, I can’t let you go cold, can I? When I leaned down to put it over your head, I felt such a fucking ache in my chest when your face appeared again through the hole. Such a pretty babygirl.

“Thank you,” you smiled contentedly and snuggled into your pillows.

I gulped, “princess,” I whispered, slowly creeping my fingers toward the hem of your shorts where they rested on your waist.

“Hm?” You hummed, but you weren’t really awake anymore, from what I could tell.

When I touched your soft, exposed hip you didn’t stir at all, and when I slipped my fingers underneath your panties, then your shorts, you didn’t make a sound. When I pushed both down to your ankles and dropped them on the floor, you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have any fucking clue what I was going to do to you, did you?

Did you feel my fingers when I slipped them between your thighs and felt your little wet cunt? I bet you did, even if you didn’t realize you were feeling it. I thought I would wake you up for sure when I pushed you onto your back and climbed over you. And when that didn’t wake you up, I thought, without a doubt, that when I pulled my cock out and touched it against your slick pussy lips your eyes would shoot open and you’d catch me in the act.

You didn’t though, you stayed deep in your drunken sleep, and I could get away with doing anything I wanted to you.

I’m still wondering what I would’ve done if you’d caught me. What would I say? How would I justify this feeling I craved that only you could satisfy? Would I even need to say anything? Surely you would recognize the feeling of the cock that made you come so good in that glory hole. Surely you’d be desperate for me to keep going.

Being able to look at your face, even if you were asleep, while I slid my dick into your wet heat made my brain stop fucking working. I couldn’t even think. It was like my body just took over, hips rocking into you over and over without a care in the world for how loud the bed was creaking.

You still didn’t feel anything when I dipped down and kissed you, my hips still thrusting slowly against you. This isn’t a Disney movie, and I’m no prince charming, but you’re still my little princess, aren’t you? You’re like my personal sleeping beauty, except my soft kisses didn’t wake you from your drunken slumber.

Thank god.

I kissed all the way down your jawbone until I got to your neck. You’re so soft, and you smell so nice. I kinda wish you’d been awake so I could’ve heard you whimper and whine in my ear. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels to have my cock slamming into your pussy, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips on my neck, my chest, all over my body.

“You take me so well, princess.” I whispered in your ear, hoping that somewhere deep in your dreams you’d hear my words and know I was inside you. “You feel so good, I can’t stop. Never felt anything-so-fucking-g-good-I-f-fuck…”

I came so much that when I pulled back my cum poured out of you as if my cock was a dam holding back a river. I still wonder if I should’ve cleaned you up, but I didn’t. Maybe you’d remember that I was the one who brought you upstairs and you’d put the pieces together.

I can imagine it now, you waking up in the morning with a dried up substance between your thighs. You might not know what it is right away, but I’m sure when you go to the bathroom and notice the hickeys peppered all over your neck, you’ll know that something must’ve happened to you the night before.

I’m not sure what to do now.

I need to have you for myself, that much is clear. The thought of someone else touching you ever again is killing me, so I have to take you. I’ll take you away from all this shit, and I’ll take good care of you. You won’t have to work at that nasty place anymore, I’ll be sure of that. And please don’t worry, princess. When your dad is looking for you, and he needs a friend to help him through the tough times, and the times he’s missing you, I’ll be that friend. He will only be sad for a little while. 

If things go wrong, and someone finds this…well I guess it’s a journal isn’t it? I won’t be able to deny the things I’ve done. I should burn it, but I can’t bring myself to do that. When I read it back, it’s almost like I can relive our time together. Someday I might show you this so you can understand why I did what I had to do, why I have to keep you.

Until then, I hope you sleep well tonight, your final night in your childhood home. I hope you enjoy your last breakfast with your loving dad, and that the two of you don’t argue before he leaves for work. Make sure you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you love him, because I’ll be over before he gets home from work.

Goodnight, princess.

Back to Main Masterlist

Back to Triple Frontier Masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

honestly i just have dbf!santi brainrot.

Precious Girl.

oh my GOOOOOOD everyone knows I see the words dad's best friend and go fuckin feral. thank you for this.

warnings - smut. cursing.

Masterlist. Inbox.

You're sat on a bench in the dark when he walks past.

"Santi?" you ask, squinting to see him.

"Hermosa?"

He stops and sits down next to you, his warmth instantly seeping into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

"What are you doing sat out here? It's 2am and pitch black."

You chew at your lip, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"I had a date. It was bad, so I left. Realised I didn't know where I was, so I sat down here to try and call an Uber or something."

"What do you mean, bad?"

"I don't know. He was cocky. Patronising. Immature. I don't have the energy for boys anymore, Santi."

He chuckles, deep and knowing.

"At least you know what you want, hermosa. I admire that."

"What I want doesn't fucking exist," you laugh. "Think I'll just give up."

"I know you. You've never been a quitter."

You exhale slowly.

"I hate that you're right."

A pause.

"What are you doing walking around in the dark at this time of night, Garcia?"

"Met some old college buddies at that Irish bar."

"Did my Dad go?"

"Yeah. We parked in separate places, so I was just walking back to my car. He left just before me."

"He loves those guys."

"I do too," he smiles.

You both sit for a moment, thinking. Santiago nudges your shoulder with his gently.

"Let's get out of here, hmm? I'll drive you home."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I know you love my heated seats, so..."

"It's true," you laugh. "They're the height of luxury, Santi."

"That car was my mid life crisis."

"There are worse things it could have been. Thank God it wasn't gambling. Or prostitutes."

He laughs, throwing his head back and knocking his body into your side.

"None of that shit. Just a nice car with heated seats."

"What more could you want?"

"Exactly."

He grabs your hand, pulling you up with him.

"Let's go home, hermosa."

Santi walks you back to his car, only ten minutes down the road. When you reach it, he reaches past you and grabs the handle on the passenger side to open the door for you. He leans in close, his nose brushing yours. Your breath hitches in your chest, not daring to move.

You don't know who moves first, but all of a sudden his lips are on yours, pressing you up against the car. You're moaning into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his salt and pepper hair, desperate to get as close to him as possible.

Santi's hands dance from your hips to the hem of your skirt and underneath. He pulls your underwear to the side and runs his fingers through your wet heat, groaning.

"Fuck, baby. This all for me?"

When you nod frantically, he smirks.

"Fucking filthy. Getting all worked up for your dad's best friend. What would they say if they knew, huh? If they saw their precious girl getting fingered in a parking lot..."

He trails off as he sinks two fingers into you, his other hand holding an iron grip on your hip to keep you still. His thumb finds your clit effortlessly, the ease of it making you moan.

"Think it's time you expand your horizons, cariño. No more boys from now on, yeah?"

You're babbling, agreeing mindlessly, willing to say anything to get what you want.

"You look so gorgeous like this. It's nice to see your attitude in check for a change."

You kiss him again to shut him up, practically begging him to be quiet. As much as his teasing gets under your skin, he's right. This was exactly what you needed.

"Close, baby? Can feel you squeezin' me. Like a fuckin' vice."

You grip at his jacket and pull him into you, resting your forehead on his chest to try and anchor yourself. When he leans down and sucks into the spot under your ear, you're done for.

You find your release embarrassingly quickly, boneless and shaking. Santi talks you through it, murmuring sweetness into your hair.

You pull away and rest against the car, catching your breath. Santi steals a kiss cheekily before smoothing down your skirt and brushing the creases from your shirt.

"Good?"

"Good," you giggle. "Very good."

"Let's get you home, huh?"

He leans past you to open your door, lips brushing your ear.

"My home. I'm not done with you yet, hermosa."

The anticipation makes you shiver.

[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, cum kink, spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control. a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without her help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you! (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you’ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous. 

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your  marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up. 

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s. 

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property is ulta-private, and even has its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze. 

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek. 

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream  patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed. 

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him. 

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up your dress. 

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?” 

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked. 

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply. 

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom. 

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel. 

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him. 

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s. 

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie. 

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits. 

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing. 

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans. 

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake. 

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing. 

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back. 

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body. 

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less. 

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan. 

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases. 

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal. 

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed. 

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose

[noisynaia]

Santiago saying “that’s right baby, say my name” ?

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐈 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞

Thank you for the request. You are really feeding my Santiago obsession, I wrote this instead of working on my exam project...

summary: Santiago comes home earlier than you had expected, catching you in the middle of pleasuring yourself, and as the good boyfriend that he is, offers to help you out.

pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x afab!reader

word count: 2.3k 

note: Explicit (18+) Established relationship. Female mastubartion, vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language. Title from ‘Movement’ by Hozier.

...So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally Move me, baby...

A shaky sigh escapes your mouth, as you slowly slide your fingers from your sternum down through the valley between your breasts to your stomach, letting the pads of your fingers run down your lower abdomen to the middle of your pelvis. Your other hand is palming the soft flesh of one of your exposed breasts, fingers sliding lightly over your nipple.      

You are lying sprawled out on the middle of your and your boyfriend’s shared bed, your upper body slightly elevated by the pillows that are supporting your back, your legs spread open with your knees bent, the soles of your feet planted on the mattress. All you can think about as you lay in this possession is Santi. Making you imagine that it is his hands that are touching you as you let your hand wander further down, letting your fingers slowly slide through your wet folds. A warm rush runs through you, your skin tingling at the memory of his touch. You drag your fingers towards your entrance, coating them in the wetness of your arousal before slowly moving them up toward your clit.

Your fingers start to move in slow circles around the nerve bundle, slowly teasing yourself as you feel the heat in your stomach grow. Your eyes are closed tightly shut as you let yourself get lost in the sensation, your mouth slightly agape as you reminisce the feeling of Santiago’s broad, skillful hands touching you. You see him so clearly in your mind, easily recalling his handsome features. The lines of his strong jaw. The curve of his nose. The shape of his lips; lips you so desperately wish you could kiss right now. Those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes of his. You imagine them looking at you as you touch yourself, imagine his dark irises roaming your body through heavy lids.   

His name is on your tongue and it spills from your lips as you begin to move your hand faster, adding a bit more pressure which makes your body jerk slightly. You keep moaning out his name as you imagine that it is his fingers that are bringing you pleasure.

“Babe?” A familiar voice utters and you are immediately pulled out of your fantasy. 

Your eyes snap open and you squeeze your thighs together, more from instinct than anything else, it is not like he hasn’t seen you in more vulnerable positions before, but something about him catching you like this still makes you feel a little bit of embarrassment.

Santiago is standing in the door of your bedroom, you had not heard him come home, too lost in your little solo session to hear the front door opening or him going to through your house to your shared bedroom. His side is leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth like he is having a grand time seeing you like this, but something is flickering in his eyes, something darker, a deep and intense lust.      

“You didn’t have to stop for my sake.” He says, uncrossing his arms as he starts to walk over to the bed.  

“I… I thought you wouldn’t be home until late?” You mutter a little flustered, he was supposed to be out with the guys tonight, you had not expected him to get home before you had gone to sleep, but the clear look of enjoyment in seeing you like this is making it hard to feel real embarrassment. 

“I missed you so I went home early.” He confesses. “Sounds like you were missing me too, huh?” The mattress dips as he climbs down on the bed, placing a hand on each side of your body, caging you under him as his eyes lock with yours. 

“I always miss you when you’re not around.” You say, bringing your hand up to his face to cup his cheek, your thumb gently sliding over his cheekbone.

“Well, I’m here now.” He says, his voice low and deep, before leaning down to kiss you hard and passionately, it’s the kind of kiss that you would have you afraid of your knees giving up under you if you had been standing.

“Need you.” You whisper into his mouth as you finally break the kiss to get a breath of air and Santi takes the opportunity to pull off his shirt, throwing it on the floor before he comes crashing down on you again, kissing you like it was the only reason he had been put on this planet. 

“Your jeans too.” You pant against his lips as he finally breaks the kiss.

He hums, leaving another quick kiss on your lips before he lifts himself from the bed to get rid of the rest of his clothes. You let out a little moan when his already hard cock springs free as he slides off his boxers. Throbbing and ready, the tip glistening with precum, he must have been standing in the door for a little while you think. You stretch out your arms towards him, gesturing for him to come back down on the bed to you. A devilish smile on his lips as he crawls back down over you. 

“You looked so beautiful spread out like that, touching yourself as you moaned my name.” He says as he begins to leave a trail of kisses down your throat. You let out a light moan as he continues his trail of kisses further down your body. He stops when he reaches your lower stomach and looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, he is looking drunk on love. “Wanna taste you, baby.” He mutters, which makes you let out a little whimper.

You spread your legs wider, you need him so desperately.  

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” He coos, sitting back on his calves to get a better view of your glistening pussy now on free display. “So pretty…” He says in awe. “Are you gonna let me have a taste?” 

“Mmm.” You hum through closed lips, nodding to let him know that you are more than willing to let him have a taste of you.     

He brings his middle and index finger to your core, slipping them through your folds as he coats them in your slickness.     

“You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, letting his fingers explore your vulva. “My sweet, beautiful girl.” 

“Fuck, Santi….” You moan as he finally slips his fingers into you. Slowly pumping them in and out of you as he positions himself between your legs. You tangle your fingers in his curls, letting out a little whine as he removes his fingers, making you feel empty, but it turns into a low moan as he lowers his head, taking your clit between his lips and starting to hungrily suck at it.      

You grab his hair a little tighter as he brings up a hand to spread your lips open, giving him better access. He brings his other hand to your entrance, sliding his fingers into you once again, slowly pumping into you while his tongue licks and sucks at your clit. He is moaning into your cunt, enjoying the reaction his movements have on you, making you grip his hair even tighter. He keeps lapping into you, keeps working his magic and you feel how your climax is building up, getting ready to explode, and when he curls the fingers inside of you just right you know you’re a goner.  

“Fu-ck… Santi, I…” You pant out, your hips jerking up into his mouth.

“I know, baby, I know. You can, baby. Please cum for me.” He hums into your pussy.    

It is all you needed to hear, your climax washes over you in hot, electric waves. You whine out as you soak his face and your cunt clenches down around his fingers. Santi keeps pumping you through your orgasm, letting you ride out your high until you get too sensitive and you feel like you can’t take it anymore and you have to tuck on his hair to make him stop. Santi lets out a gasp as he finally detaches his mouth from you, humming happily as he licks his lips. 

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Can’t get enough of you.” He sighs as he climbs up over your body, caging you between his arms once again before leaning down to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his lips. It sends a warm rush through your body.    

“I need you inside of me.” You confess, making him smile down at you, dipping his head down to kiss your lips again. 

“Then you shall have me.” He grins into your mouth, kissing you as he takes his cocks in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before he positions himself at your entrance. He kisses your mouth as he starts to slip into you. You feel how your walls stretch as you take more and more of him. You raise your hips, lifting your legs to cross them around his body. You are relishing in the sensation of him filling you up so completely, even with the preparation of his fingers and with your wetness the girth of him still stings a little, but it is not an unwelcome feeling. Santi kisses your cheek and you feel so loved and so content in this moment like you are exactly where you are supposed to be. You can’t help but push your hips upwards, the need for him to move, getting almost unbearable. Your movement has him moan slightly. 

“Ready?” He asks, leaving another kiss on your cheek.  

“Yeah.” You nod, grinding slightly into him, which has him let out a little grunt. He starts to slowly pull out of you until only the tip of his cock is remaining inside before rolling his hips, pushing all of his cock into you again with one fluid motion, making you cling to his back as he begins to fuck into you, lifting your legs from his waist to his shoulder. The position is letting him thrust deep inside of you with each roll of his hips.

He starts out with a slow, rhythmical pace but his thrusts are quickly getting faster and more desperate as he loses himself more and more in the overwhelming feeling of you. “You feel so good, baby…” He pants out as he keeps thrusting into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.” 

“Love you too.” You breathe out, as he keeps pounding you into the soft mattress beneath you. “Fu-uck, love you so much, Santi.” 

Your words have him fueled up, the way he is now pounding his cock into you, so deeply and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure. “Yes, Santi! Fu-uck, right there! Right there…” You shriek, the pleasure building up to a whole new level. “Santiago, I…I-” You are so close now, and you can feel him twitch inside of you as his name falls from your lips.  

“That’s right baby, say my name” He growls “Love when you say it, makes me know that I’m yours.”

“You are, Santi. You are all mine.” You gasp out. His name keeps spilling from your lips over and over again, you’re chanting it like your life is depending on it like it is a prayer you are devoting to a life-giving deity. Your breasts are being squeezed against his broad chest, your sensitive nipples rubbing against his warm skin. Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His heavy balls are hitting your skin with each strong thrust, and the sound of your skin colliding is filling the room. 

“I’m so close.” You babble into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby… You can, baby, you can cum for me.” He says, bringing a hand to your head and gently guiding it back onto the pillow, as he follows you down kissing you so gently as the last string that is holding you together snaps. Your walls squeeze down around him, sucking him into your warmth as your climax washes over you. He kisses you through it as his own climax comes over him. You hum into him as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, coating your walls. He keeps thrusting into you, fucking his cum deep into you until it is leaking out around his cock. 

You only break the kiss when you physically can’t keep going as your lungs scream for air and you have to catch your breath, but you don’t mind as it makes it possible for you to watch his handsome as he keeps thrusting into you as he rides out his orgasm until his movements finally come to a halt. He sneaks his strong arms around you, kissing you before flipping you over so you’re now laying next to him instead of having him on top of you. He holds you close, the secure feeling of his strong arms around you making you feel safe and secure as he hugs you tight. His softening cock is still inside of you as you both lay and catch your breath. 

“I’m glad you came home early.” You finally break the silence, as you whisper into his chest.

“Me too.” He says, squeezing you a little tighter.

The two of you lay like this for a while, until you start to yawn and Santiago gets up and leaves the bedroom. He is soon coming back in with a glass of water for you and a damp washcloth. He cleans you up as you sip the water, soon joining you on the bed again, pulling the warm covers over you both as you snuggle into his broad chest. He is gently stroking your back, whispering sweet nothings and ‘I love yous’ into the room until you fall asleep, completely engulfed in the warm feeling of his love.

...So move me, baby Like you've nothin' left to prove And nothin' to lose Move me, baby...

Movement, Hozier

@cutesyscreenname @alexxavicry

[anitalenia]

━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.

He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.

Nngh, just you.

He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.

He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.

He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.

Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.

He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…

That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.

He had lawyers for that shit anyway.

Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.

He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —

“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.

He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”

You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.

But that was the norm for him.

For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.

You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.

But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.

He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.

One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.

One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.

All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.

━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.

It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.

You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.

You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.

Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.

So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.

He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.

Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.

He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.

He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.

He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.

He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.

Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.

He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.

“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.

You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.

So fucking delicious.

Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.

God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.

Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.

But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.

He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.

He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.

Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.

He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.

“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.

He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.

━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.

It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.

He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.

You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.

You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.

He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.

He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.

He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.

He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.

You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.

Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.

And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.

He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.

You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.

And he fucking loved it.

You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.

He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.

You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.

It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.

He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.

But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.

It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.

And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.

And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.

But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.

Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.

You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.

And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.

He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.

━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.

You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.

He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.

You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.

You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.

He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.

He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.

As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally” leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.

He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.

You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.

Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.

Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.

And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.

You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.

You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.

He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.

Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.

You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.

It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?

[romanarose]

You'd Love Me If I Was a Worm, Would You Love Me If I Was A Man?

Santiago Garcia x transman!reader

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Made for the Oscar/Pedro Pride Event

Summary: You're Santi's wife or so he thinks, he loves you very, very much... You're scared to ruin it with honesty.

Or

You come out as trans to Santi

Warnings: Pretty mild, Santi is perfect. Gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, mentions of conversion therapy.

AN: This is just based on my feelings right now. IDK exactly how I identify, but doing things like cutting my hair and dressing more masculine has helped me a lot. No one needs to cut their hair short to be a man, trans or otherwise, nor does a trans person NEED surgery or any changes. This is simply based on my experience. People feel this differently.

1k words

“How’s my favorite girl?”

Santi greeted you as he came home, finding you in your bathroom staring at your face and your body in your underwear, cringing at him calling you a girl but trying to hide the visceral reaction. You hated your hair, you hated how feminine it made you look, but you knew Santi loved it, so you kept it long and usually in a ponytail.No matter how hard you tried, no matter the body positivity, no matter how good you objectively looked and how Santiago worshiped it, none of it felt right to you. You’d been considering telling him how you’d been feeling for some time, but it felt selfish. How could you tell him you thought you might be a man when he fell in love with a woman?

He clocked your cringe, as he always did your discomfort. “What’s wrong, bebita?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, just tired.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, c’mon.” taking your hand, Santi pulls you into the bedroom and sits you down with him, his eyes pleading with you for honesty. “You can talk to me, it’s okay.”

Your eyes fill up with tears, stressing out and over thinking it all so much. “It’s not fair to you.” You begin to cry, and it isn’t. This isn't what Santi signed up for when he married you. He married his wife, not whatever was happening to you right now. You should’ve told him, you should’ve been honest with from the start. “I thought this would go away, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I lied to you!”

Horrified at the tears, Santiago pulls you into his arms. “Oh honey… whatever it is, you can tell me, please. Nothing is too much, you’re my wife, and I’m gonna take care of you, always.” 

It couldn’t be hidden anymore. You had to be honest before you wasted more of his time. Pulling back, you look him in the eyes, your own still watering. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m your wife…” You watch his eye widen and you realize your choice of words was poor. “Nonono! Not like that!” You’re quick to reassure him you aren’t leaving him. He’ll probably leave you, however. “I just mean…” Big breath. “I feel… like I’m a man.”

He looked confused for a second before recognition registered on his face.

“Oh… how long have you felt this way?” You couldn’t get a read on his reaction yet, but he still held your hands.

“I really, really long time, Santi. I thought I’d grow out of it…”

He nods. “Since you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “I tried to tell my parents but… they… They sent me away.”

Santiago’s face hardened at that. “Conversion therapy?”

Memories flooded back to what you suffered there, creating a fresh bout of tears down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I tried to put it away but nothing worked! I know you probably don’t want me any more but please, please I’m gonna try, I can go to therapy again-”

You try to tell him that you can change, to give you a chance and you’ll fix it, trying to walk yourself back into the closet after being out less than 5 minutes, but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Baby,” He stresses, pain on his face as cups your cheek with his hands, thumbing away a tear. “I’m not leaving you, and you are not going to conversion therapy, you hear me? That is not happening. We’re gonna do whatever we need to do to make you feel comfortable with yourself, okay? If that means transitioning, then we’ll make it happen.”

In shock, you blink. “But… Santi, you’re not gay…”

Santiago chuckles a little. “I don’t really know how this works, to be honest. I didn’t think I was either but… I love you. I’m attracted to you. That’s what I know.” When you didn’t look convinced, he continued. “Remember all the times you asked me if I’d love you if you were a worm?”

You giggle a little at the memory, beginning to feel better. “Yeah, you were confused.”

He nods with a smile. “Yeah, so were most of the guys. But Will told me it’s not about if I’d actually love you if you were a worm, because you’d never actually be a worm. It’s about being reassured that no matter what, I’d still be yours and you’d still be mine. So I told you I’d make you a little garden like Oscar the grouch has for wormy.”

You’re smiling now too. “And read me worm versions of fairy tales before bed.”

“And kiss your little worm head, because I love you. So, if you feel like you are a man, and you want to live life as man and if that makes me gay then yeah. I’m gay. I don’t really care about that. I care about you.”

"And... maybe, maybe its not even that I'm a man... just maybe not fully a woman?"

"Like, one of those in between things?"

You laugh at his wording. He may not have the best terminology, but he tries.

He sighs softly, holding your face. "If you feel like you're non... binary?" He asks questioningly, and you nod so he continues. "Or half and half or non at all... that's okay too. Whatever you are, i's what you are, and you're still you to me. But, baby." He kisses the tip of your nose. "Don't try and lessen it for me, okay? If you want to live and be fully as man, then that's what it is."

Letting his words sink in, your heart fills with love at his unconditional affection. “So… what next? What do I even do now?”

“Well,” Santi considers next steps. “I think we try to get you in with a doctor. I don’t think it goes straight to surgery,” He says with a tease. “But maybe hormones? I don’t know. I can talk to Ben whenever you’re ready for me to, I know he knows more of this than I do.”

“Can we maybe…” Your reach for a tissue, blowing it as you calm down more and more. “Can I maybe start with a haircut.”

This makes Santi laugh, standing up and taking you with him to capture you in a full body hug. “Of course we can! You don’t need my permission to get a haircut, mi cielo!” You notice how he immediately changed to masculine gendered terms of endearment. “Santi peppered kisses all over your face. “Wanna go today?”

You’re so excited at the idea, you readily agree.

An hour later, the kind stylist is chopping off your hair. As she gives you a moment to sit with the cut, Santi comes up behind the chair, wrapping his arms around you. “How do you feel, mi amor.” He says with a kiss to your neck.

You take in this first step, the start of a journey that you knew wouldn’t be easy but you had the best person ever by your side.

“I think… I actually feel like myself.”

shout out to @hee-blee-art for these cute ass dividers that were wierdly specific to this story lol

Most unrealistic thing about this fic is reader saying Santi isn't gay. Did we see the same movie? homosexual activity was hapeing on those mountains

HAPPY PRIDE!!! I can't wait to see what everyone did for this event <3

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Sycamore Part 1: Along the Deep

summary: Frankie had said that your home was the perfect place to lay low; a small cottage nestled between the Alaskan sea and forest.

pairing: Santiago Garcia x fem!reader (Eclipse)

wc: 2,415

warnings: not sfw/minors dni/18+, strangers to lovers, eventual smut, mentions of canon typical violence, mental health issues (ptsd), addiction mention, food mention, internal angst, pining

an: its good to be back! hoping this series will propel me forward and get me writing more consistently. can't wait to hear yalls thoughts, and as always thank you for reading <3

sycamore masterlist

Santi’s running, headed to a place he’d never dreamed of setting foot in: Alaska.  It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling–running is his forte– but this time around he truly feels like a failure. This time, he’s running because it's life or death and with the loss of Tom, Santi finds himself yearning to live. He had to make this grief burrowing in his chest worth something, and he was grateful to do it in the face of a stranger.

Frankie had assured him that you’re calm and collected. But, Santi didn’t know who you were– had never heard of you before this moment. He felt it was fair to have his doubts.

“Who is she?” Santi had asked once they had touched back down in Florida.

“Childhood friend. She served and seen as much as we have. I’known her longer than I’ve known you,” Frankie had explained.

Any of those doubts that lingered in Santi’s mind crumbled and were lost to the wind as he continued driving down the windy Alaskan roads. He’s surrounded by rows upon rows of trees. Frankie had said that your home was the perfect place to lay low; a small cottage nestled between the Alaskan sea and forest. Sunlight is endless this time of year and the salty coastal breeze bathes everything it touches.

He knows he’s in the right place once his tires hit gravel. The driveway stretches on a couple miles and he feels his heart rate increasing, palms slick against the leather steering wheel. This isn’t a test, this isn’t something he has to get right. All he has to do is mind his own business, keep his head down– something he does with the people that care so deeply for him day in and day out. 

The house comes into view, sand and sea as its backdrop. You are not what Pope expects– neither is the house. You’re sat on the porch swing waiting for him, a book in one hand, a mug in the other. The word that comes to mind isn't one he uses often, but you are distinctly lovely. You look so relaxed, in a pair of cutoff overalls, hair up and framing your face. The house is white and rustic, and the porch wraps around it entirely.

Pope exits the car, treating you to an awkward wave. He doesn’t understand why his knees feel weak, but it could be your intense gaze. You wave back at him with an easy smile. You look welcoming, like a woman waiting for your husband to return home. But he has to remember, he doesn’t have a home anymore, that he hardly knows you even though he already likes everything he knows about you. He’s nothing but a man who bounces from place to place, contract to contract, there isn’t room for him here. 

“Need some help?” You call out to him as he heads towards the trunk. 

“I’m alright,” He says, not unkindly. 

You stay put on the swing, sliding a bookmark between pages to save your spot before you wrap your hands tightly around your mug of tea. He’s more handsome than he was in the pictures, but there’s something in his step, in the way his shoulders slouch that tells you whatever he’s just experienced has changed him.

Frankie wouldn’t tell you much besides that they’d had a big job in South America that had gone awry. They’d lost a friend– a brother, Tom who’d you seen pictures of before. You hadn’t pressed for details knowing that the more you knew the more at risk all of you would be. 

But, from the lost look in Santiago’s eyes as he trudges up to the porch, you know it had to be heavy. A loss deeper than he’d ever known. 

He holds out a hand to you, words rushing out of his mouth in an unfamiliarly clumsy way, “Santiago. Santi. Or Pope, I don’t know.”

“Santiago. You can call me Eclipse.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it firmly despite the current that seems to follow between the two of you. You brush it off, standing and gesturing towards the house, “Let me show you your room.”

He continues to be surprised by you. The inside of the house is simple, all cream and light wood and house plants with small pops of color. The couch is large and fluffy with a colorful patch quilt on it, taking up most of the living room space. There’s lots of black and white art, even a set of twinkly lights in the kitchen. 

You lead  him into what seems to be a never-ending hallway, showing him the bathroom he’ll use, where closets are, your room. He notices that you neglect to tell him what’s in the room beside the one he’ll be staying in and the curiosity that’s been bubbling inside him overflows.

“What’s this room?” Santi asks, his voice strangely polite. He doesn’t want to offend you. The only thing he really wants right now is to know more about you. He points to the closed door between the large bathroom and his room for the next two months.

He notices your body stiffening, and for the first time since the two of you have met you look guarded. Secretive. Your eyes are wary as you answer him, “My art studio.”

Santi’s fascinated, you’re even more mysterious now. He’s thrown by how taken he is with you, how his knees feel weak and not from all of the bullshit he’s but him through. This pull he feels is different than usual, complex and genuine. He wants to unravel you, but unlike his usual habits of leaving when it’s all said and done, he would put you back together. He’d be drowning in his fear if he wasn’t so hungry for the knowledge of you. 

“The art’s yours?”

Your face warms, but you shrug, brushing off his…wonder. That’s what you identify; he’s marveled by you. “Living up here, I had nothing better to do.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you quickly cut him off, not wanting to discuss your art in depth– it isn’t yet what you want to be. Something has always been off, always been missing. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask quickly.

“Starving, actually,” He says sheepishly, his mouth pulling up into a soft smile. 

So handsome and so broken, you allow yourself to think for just a moment.

“Get settled, I’ll heat up some food for us.”

“Thank you, Eclipse.”

“Of course,” You say easily, like this choice of you inviting him into your home took no thought, no effort. Like you’ve known each other for multiple lifetimes. 

 As he watches you walk down the hall, he finds himself wishing that to be true. 

With  plenty of stew in the freezer, you preheat the oven to bake some potatoes. While the stew heats, you prep the potatoes, chopping them into small cubes and coating them with an herb mix. It’ll only take them 20 minutes in the oven, enough time to throw together a fresh salad with vegetables from the garden and warm some rolls.

You hear him shuffling down the hall about 15 minutes later, and when he appears he’s changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

You allow yourself a single glance at him as you stir the stew, quickly forcing your eyes away from him, “Drink? I’ve got water, soda, coffee, tea. Matcha.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking a little disappointed, “No beer?”

“I’m sober. 3 years.”

Santi has to force his expression to stay neutral. You’re sober like Fish. He wonders what your vice is, how you made it to this point. It was hard with Frankie, a fight every step of the way but one he’s dedicated to helping win. 

“I have ginger beer,” You offer when he stays quiet.

“I’ll take it.”

He can see it clear as day, how good for Frankie you’ve probably been and will continue to be. Frankie may not know it, but you’ve  been taking care of him in your own way for a while now. He’s described you to Pope as a younger sister, familia through and through despite losing each other for a while. Santi wonders just for a moment how you’d  treat a lover, his eyes roaming your body. The thoughts are whisked away by the crack of a can, and you slide  it over to him. 

“Thanks,” He croaks, his cheeks warm from his thoughts. 

If you notice you don't mention it, quipping back with another soft, “Of course.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and he takes a seat at the sturdy wooden table. He tries and fails not to watch you move around the kitchen. You’re incredibly graceful, floating around the room as if you’re on a cloud. You get the salad on the table along with some plates in perfect timing;  the oven dings just as you turn towards it.

You’re a machine, just like him. Just like Frankie, and Benny and Will. Like Tom was. And yet it seems like it hasn’t plagued you the way it has all of them as you plate up dinner and sit across from him. This little life you’ve built, even if he ‘s just gotten a glance of it seems peaceful. He wonders if he could be whole in a place like this or if that’s just wishful thinking he’ll never verbalize. 

“What made you move out here?” He asks softly after several minutes of silence marked by the sound of forks on plates. 

“Solitude suits me,” You say simply.

Santi knows that’s not true. With how easily you welcomed a stranger here, the second nature of you fixing him a meal. He doesn’t push, its not his place.

“I guess I’m ruining that for you then.”

“Francisco trusts you. So I trust you.”

Trust, not solitude. You need safety and instead of finding it in people around you, you find it in yourself. Santi sees you a little clearer now– sees that this isn’t a sanctuary, it’s a fortress surrounded by water and sand and sycamores to keep everyone out.

“That’s why you don’t live in town?”

“I can’t– the guns,” You explain gruffly. “I need to know where they are and when they’ll fire or it gets– bad.

Oh. 

He gets it. He hasn’t experienced it himself, his body’s still in this flight mode, but he can imagine what happens when it’s been turned off and then triggered. He’s heard the stories, though he files them away in a box in his head, never to be touched again. Or so he thought, until he met you. 

In a strange way, you remind him of himself–even with all the work you’ve done he sees you as guarded, though less closed off than he is. Just like him you crave  organization, and belonging, though it seems like your versions are much more poetic than his. More than ever, Santi feels like the scraps of belonging he had with his men is out of reach with Tom gone. Everything’s jumbled and off balance, and now they’re left to figure this out again. Like it wasn’t hard enough the first fucking time. But here…it feels like he could start to. Like he could do it properly. 

The sun is finally starting to set when you finish dinner, and Santi insists that you stay put and let him clean up. When he gets all the food scraps in a pile you head out to put them in the composter and give the plants one last little sprinkle, though the coastal spray was probably enough. As always you find yourself staring into the abyss of the ocean, eyes captivated by the crash and fall of blue hues.

He watches you through the kitchen window, slowing down his methodical movements so that he can spend more time simply looking. There’s no purpose, no quota he must fill in being here with you unless he truly wants it. And right now the only thing he wants to do is look, and look and look at how beautiful you are. 

With the dishes done he follows after you, standing awkwardly on the porch. Santi looks down at his feet, as if the answer to the question in his head rests upon them. But as if you’ve heard his silent steps, you look back at him expectantly and his eyes rise to meet yours. Your mouth raises just a fraction of an inch, he wouldn’t even count it as a smirk, but it pulls the question out of him, “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You  just beckon him on and his feet move without thought, listening to your siren call. You sink further into the sand as he nears you, burying your feet and resting your head on your knees. et. He kicks his shoes off before joining you, keeping his legs straight as he leans back into his palms. The sand is cool and scratchy against his calloused hands. You stay like that as the minutes go by, the sun sinking further and further into the sky.

It looks half submerged in the ocean, its golden hues reflecting off the dark water, when you finally speak again, “I’m gonna head in but you should stay a while. It’s an experience, watching the sun leave the moon alone.”

He hums noncommittally as you rise to your feet dusting the sand off your body. “Thank you for letting me come here. Especially without Fish.”

“Fish,” You repeat, laughing softly. You hardly even glance at him when you say, “You never have to thank me. Goodnight, Santi.”

Winded, Santi can only nod and you both avoid eye contact as you pass him, the moment already feeling charged enough. He likes it though, being on edge about something other than a mission or objective. Your jury’s still out, but she can’t deny what you’re feeling already. 

“Goodnight,” He calls after you once his voice returns.

When you make it to the door you turn to look at him; there’s a pull, an invisible string wound between the two of you. Slowly, you commit this scene to memory so that you can start painting it. You’ve found a muse in him and how long has it been since you’ve painted in color?

He stays there to watch the sun leave the moon, thinking of you the entire time. 

> Part 2: Juna's Bloodshed

taglist: @sylviantree, @whatthefish, @marc-spectorr, @mccn-bcys, @toracainz, @xbellaxcarolinax, @reallyrallyauthor, @missdictatorme, @lesbianhotch, @campingwiththecharmings, @veritable-trash, @ivystoryweaver, @iolaussharpe-24, @aria725, @hana-hanako, @kingtwhiddleston, @for-a-longlongtime

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtober2024 Part 10, Finale- Santiago Garcia

Santiago Garcia x fem!sex worker reader

Kinks- exhibitionism, lap dancing, public sex

Word count- 2.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader is a dancer/sex worker, sex in a club, harassment, protective!Santi, brief minor violence, chair sex, oral (f receiving), feelings, hinted that she's slept with all the TF guys, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Happy Kinktober finale!! Please note while this reader is a sex worker, sex work is not the kink it's her job. This one has a bit of plot too for the finale and of course I had to add protectiveness! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please also follow that and turn on post notifs!

~

Lights pulsed in the club as a loud dance beat filled the room. Beautiful people in sparkly outfits danced around poles while patrons threw money at them. Cheers erupted every time a dancer did something especially sexy or shook their ass a little more. It was a fun place to be, on either side of the dance stage, and everyone always had a good time every single night.

Santiago, Frankie and the Miller brothers spent many nights at the club. Many of the dancers and bartenders knew them all by name, and all the guys were already greeted with a smile. Benny even worked as security some nights when they needed a little extra help, which was always very much appreciated.

The guys all had their favorites, their preferences, and most of the time they wanted something different enough that they rarely overlapped. But there was one dancer who they all frequented. It took some fighting through emotions, but they all came to an agreement that whatever happened on the stage or in the private rooms was no one’s business. 

Besides, for you it was just work.

Tonight, it was Santiago who had you in his lap. And fuck you looked so beautiful. The way you shook your ass to the beat of the music was mesmerizing. He groaned as he caressed your hips as you writhed in his lap. The beads on your tiny outfit caught the light spectacularly. And you were so warm against him that Santiago couldn’t help but harden under your thighs.

“Santi…” you murmured his name as you turned around to face him, your hands skimming over the stubble on his jaw.

“You look so pretty tonight, baby,” he smirked at you as you continued to dance in his lap. And the fact that this happened right in the middle of the club in sight of everyone only turned him on more. 

“So do you, baby,” you cooed. 

Santiago groaned as he bucked his hips up against your body, his hands squeezing your ass. He knew other people watched, and he was sure there were some that wanted the same thing as he was getting. You were aware too, and it wasn’t your first time being with Santi like this. Truth be told, you were just as turned on as he was because of it.

But it was just your job, you kept telling yourself. With anyone else, it was easy. Even Santiago’s friends, who you were fond of, were easy to push aside when their time was up. They were all kind and good men, but they were just clients to you. No, it was only Santiago that was different. You couldn’t let it show, though; it was your job. 

“What do you say about taking things a little further, baby?” Santiago purred in your ear as he nibbled on your skin. His hand fondled your ass before it moved around to the front of your thigh, his fingers just grazing the little piece of fabric that covered your pussy.

“Mmm, you thinking what I’m thinking?” you grinned as your lips hovered over his.

“How about we give these fuckers a real show, huh?” Santi’s tone dropped as his fingers slipped under the fabric and ghosted over your folds.

You gasped as your mouth dropped open as his thick finger played with your pussy. Santi always took such good care of you, and you did in return. His touch sent jolts of electricity up your spine as he pushed a finger inside you. The moan you let out was drowned out by the music around you, but Santi could still feel it against his skin.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned as he felt your warmth around his finger. He exhaled deeply as he pushed another finger in you, making you mewl in his ear. Santi’s hardness got too much to ignore, and the way you rocked in his lap only added to his need. “I gotta fuck you now, baby.”

“Then fuck me, Santiago,” you murmured as you ran your hands down his chest, giving his pecs a squeeze before you unzipped his pants and freed his cock.

“Glady,” he pulled his fingers out of you and adjusted himself under you so that his cock lined up with your pussy, “And with all these people watching too,” he growled as he guided your hips down, impaling you with his length, “Fuck,” his eyes went from your open mouth to the many pairs of gawking eyes from around the club, “I bet they all wish they were here right now,” he murmured in your ear as he sat you in his lap.

“Let them watch,” you moaned as you rested your forehead against his, “I want them to watch how good you fuck me, baby.”

Santiago let out a low growl as he jerked his hips up into you, “Good,” he thrust again as he squeezed your hips hard, “Let them watch how good you take me,” he grunted as he thrust again and you moaned loudly, “Let them watch how fucking sexy you are riding my lap like this.”

“Fuck… Santi…” you cried out as you threw your head back and rocked your hips to match his pace. 

The two of you ground your hips together to the beat of the music in the middle of the club. All the peering eyes felt just additions to the lights as you lost yourselves in each other. Your pussy wrapped around his cock tightly, and he could tell from how wet you were that you were genuinely turned on. And so was he. The thrill of fucking you right int he middle of the club was unlike anything else, and Santi had done a lot with you.

“You feel so good, baby,” Santi murmured as his hands ran up your sides to grab your breasts, “So fucking good.”

“Santi…” you moaned, all the wit leaving your body with every thrust of his hips.

He watched in awe as your mouth hung open, letting out moans and screams that he couldn’t always hear. But he could feel it. And he could feel you. Every little movement in his lap went a wave of pleasure through his body. You were unlike anything Santiago Garcia had ever felt before, and he craved more. 

“Fuck…” he grunted as his hips stuttered from how good you felt around him, “Baby I need you to cum.”

“Then make me, Santi,” you moaned as you leaned forward and took his lips with yours.

Santi groaned in your mouth as he tasted you. His hand snaked in between your bodies to rub at your clit as his tongue tangled with yours. He swallowed the moan you let out as his hand on your clit synchronized with the thrusts of his hips. The chair he sat in rocked and skidded from the force of his movements. 

Breaking away, you moaned loudly, “Santi! Fuck!”

Chills ran through your whole body as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. Your climax hit without warning as you squeezed Santi’s cock while your body trembled in his arms. Screaming his name, you jerked your hips in his lap as tears filled your eyes from how good you felt.

“Shit, baby,” he growled as he felt you tense around him. Santi thrust his hips deeply into you a few more times before he also fell apart, spilling himself inside you as he groaned your name in your ear. Fire felt like it flowed through his veins, and he gladly embraced it as he rode out both your orgasms right in the middle of the club.

“Fuck,” you huffed as you collapsed forward, resting against Santi’s chest as you breathed heavily.

“I think that was the best fuck we ever had,” Santi laughed against you as he rubbed your back, “You alright?”

Lifting yourself up to meet his gaze, you smiled, “Best fuck we ever had,” you threw his words back at him with a grin, “But I agree,” your tone dropped as you leaned in and kissed him deeply. You would have liked to stay there all night, in Santi’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you and his arms securely around you, but the weight of many heavy gazes around you caught your attention, “I gotta get back to work, baby.”

*

“So when are you gonna man up and tell her?” Frankie’s voice broke Santiago out of his thoughts. 

He turned his eyes to his friend before looking away, “I don’t know what you mean,” Santi shrugged and tried to act nonchalant as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Fuck, man,” Frankie rolled his eyes, “You haven’t taken your eyes off her all night.”

Santiago met Frankie’s gaze in a challenge. But, when neither backed down, he let out a deep sigh, “Shit,” he ran his hands through his hair, “I can’t man. It’s…”

“Shit, Pope, do you love the girl or not?” Frankie snapped.

His abrupt snap came as a surprise, but Santi couldn’t deny it any longer, “Am I that fucking obvious?” he said with a weak laugh. 

“You are,” Frankie nudged him, “Even Benny can see the way you make heart eyes at her.”

“Shit,” Santi muttered under his breath. Hanging his head down, he sighed. Frankie was right of course. He should tell you. Even if it doesn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t unless you wanted it to, he should tell you.

Looking back up, Santi scanned the room for you, but he couldn’t find you. “Shit,” he spat as he darted away from Frankie and scoured the club for you. The last time he saw you, you were roaming around with a tray of shot in your hand, and he knew you couldn’t have passed them all out in the time he talked to Frankie. 

After not finding you, Santi decided to try out back. He wasn’t supposed to be back in the alley, only employees were supposed to be there. But he had to make sure you were safe. Bursting through the door, he heard yelling, and Santi moved before his mind caught up with him.

“Get the fuck off her!” Santi found the source of the shouts, and ripped the guy off of you. He had you pinned against the alley wall, ready to hurt you, but Santi wouldn’t let that happen. Kicking the man and shoving him against the opposite wall, Santi spat insults and curses at him.

“Santi…” you breathed in relief. You stayed against the wall as Santi pulled him back up and shouted in his face.

“If I ever find you in the club or anywhere near her again, I will kill you. Understand?” he never sounded more angry in his life.

The man instantly changed from a mean, tough guy into a crying baby, and he nodded before he hobbled off into the night. Santiago watched as he disappeared into the shadows, making sure he was gone before he turned back to you. “Baby?” he cupped your face, “You ok?”

You gasped as your mind caught up to you, “Y-yeah…” you looked Santi in the eyes as you repeated yourself in a more confident tone, “Yeah, I’m fine,” you let out a shaky breath, “Thank you, Santi.”

Santi’s face softened as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, “You don’t have to thank me,” he held you tightly, “I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” he murmured against you.

“Santi?” you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes again.

He exhaled deeply, “I…” he cleared his throat, “I’ll always protect you, baby. I love you,” he paused as your mouth dropped open, “It doesn’t matter to me that you do this, I don’t care. And if you don’t feel the same, we can pretend this never happened. Or you can tell me to fuck off…”

Santiago was interrupted when you slammed your lips against his, kissing him deeply. A muffled surprised gasp came from his lips before he leaned into your kiss, holding you even tighter.

“I love you too, Santi,” you whispered against his lips, “I have for a long time now…”

Santi smirked against you, “Aren’t we a pair?”

You laughed back, “Apparently.”

He kissed you again, slowly yet deeply. He took his time with you, feeling every inch of you he could. When he broke away, Santi murmured, “How about you take the rest of the night off? We can make up for lost time.”

“Santi,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “We’ve been fucking this whole time!”

“Yes,” he cupped your chin, “But we haven’t made love,” Santi’s tone dropped as his gaze bore into you.

You gasped as you felt a jolt of arousal between your legs, “Well, what are we waiting for?” 

*

“Oh fuck!Santi!”

Santiago’s curls filled the space between your parted legs as his hands kept them open. He wouldn’t dream of bringing his head up to look at how beautiful you were though. You tasted too good to break away. Instead, he groaned into you as he tongue ran up and down your folds.

You screamed as you arched your back as Santi ravaged you. One hand stayed buried in his hair, tugging at his thick locks while the other clutched at his sheets. You threw your head back to cry out more as his tongue hit your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked hard, “Santi!”

He wanted to encourage your screams. He wanted to tell you to say his name over and over again. He wanted to tell you how good you tasted and how fucking pretty you were. But Santi couldn’t break away, even for a breath. He was too hooked, too addicted to you.

Santi kneaded your thighs as he devoured your pussy. You had cum twice already and it still wasn’t enough. No, Santiago Garcia wasn’t going to stop until you begged him to. He was determined to make you cum over and over and over again until you couldn’t move your body. And then he would hold you close and watch over you as you slept safely in his arms.

“Santi… I’m…” you cried out as you felt another climax quickly build.

He slurped at you loudly and obscenely as he ran his tongue up and down your pussy, flicking hard at every spot that made you mewl. He groaned into you and dug his fingers into your skin as he picked up and pace, ready for you to splash him again with your release. And he didn't have to wait long to get what he wanted.

With another loud scream of his name, you came hard. Your legs shook on either side of his head as your body felt like it was about to float away if it weren’t for his strong grip. Tears fell from your eyes as you never felt this good. Your body shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you.

You gasped as you flopped down limp on his bed, “Santi…” you breathed, “Fuck!”

Finally, he broke away from you, grinning at you as his entire face glistened with your juices, “Fuck me,” he huffed, “You are so fucking pretty.”

You  opened your eyes and your heart fluttered in your chest from the way he looked at you, “I love you Santi,” you whispered, “This is something new for us,” you added with a laugh.

“I never want to stop,” Santi groaned as he licked his lips, “Ready for another round baby?”

“Already?!” your eyes shot wide.

Santi kissed the inside of your thigh, “I told you we have a lot of time to make up for...” 

[dailyreverie]

Under cotton and calicoes

A/N: Y'all should know me by now. I see Santiago Garcia and I immediately think of the softest, most domestic scenarios. This one was requested by the lovely @campingwiththecharmings, I really hope you like it!! Title comes from The Hozier song "Would That I".

@flufftober - Day 16 Singing one another to sleep

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word count: 917

CW: As we established before, domestic Santi is a warning.

Flufftober masterlist

You had been tosing the sheets for what felt like a thousand times, and on the 101st fight against the sheets, the clock showed only 40 minutes had gone by since you last checked the time. You sat up, feeling defeated and exposed to the cold night air on your skin. Your head dropped into your hands in a futile attempt to prevent your eyes from burning with exhaustion.

It was then that you felt Santiago's gentle hand caressing its way up your hip to your lower back. It should not have surprised you, and neither should the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table as it turned on.  “What’s wrong?” The sleepiness in his voice stirred your heart with a touch of guilt. Santiago didn't always got to sleep soundly, and here you were, disrupting his peaceful night.

ou whispered, knowing that your words were as effective as speaking to a wall. Santiago sat up beside you and planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, making you yearn to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. "I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice tinged with exhaustion, and Santi chuckled in sympathy.

“I figured that out.” His lips traveled to your jaw, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. You found comfort in the warmth of his skin beneath your hands. “Maybe I can help?”

“Unless you are planning on giving me a sleeping pill I’m not sure anything could help.” You say in a lousy effort at humor at 2:40 a.m.

Santi laughs again, pulling you down to bed next to him. It’s easy to fit against his body, with your head in the crook of his neck and your hands over his chest, almost soothing enough to put you right to sleep as his fingers trail up and down your back. To finish it all, he started humming a song, a melody you are familiar with but can’t quite place it, your brain nothing but fog after being awake for so long.

Finally, it clicked as he reached the chorus of the song. In your groggy state, you asked into the darkness, "Are you seriously singing Guns N' Roses to help me sleep?"

Santi doesn’t answer, instead, he changes the humming to singing the lyrics with an audible smile in his voice. “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain, I’d hate to look into those- HEY!” your hand slapping his chest interrupts him.

“How’s that song supposed to help me sleep?” You asked in between a fit of laughter.

“Well, if you’d let me finish you would be asleep by now.”

“Not with freaking Guns n’ Roses! What’s next, Metallica?”

"Okay, fine. I have a better one. Come back here." His arm extended over the pillows, and you cuddled back against his side with a playful warning glance. After a few seconds, he starts singing: “When you try your best but you don’t succeed.”

“Santiago! That’s just mean!” You push him again, laughing out loud without a care of the late hour.

“That’s the calmest song I know.” He defends catching your arm to not let you go far. “I’m sorry I don’t know any of your boring songs.”

You gasped in feigned indignation, a playful glint in your eyes. "Don't you dare disrespect Hozier like that."

“Okay, okay, fine. What if I learned one?” He was already standing up, rushing to the living room to get the guitar he never really uses but still keeps around.

“Right now? You are going to learn how to play a song at 3 am?” You rested against the headboard on your side, looking at him opening up his laptop to search the chords of a song.

“I’m already up, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” Guilt gnawed at you at his statement. He had been snoring no more than twenty minutes ago, sound asleep, as you should be too.

"You should sleep, Santi. I'll just go to the living room and scroll through TikTok until I fall asleep." Santiago caught your wrist as you attempted to move, preventing you from going.

"No way, no one gets left behind in battle," he declared, ever the army man, evoking a smile of tired appreciation. “Now, let’s get this started.”

You watched from your comfortable spot against the headboard, sunken in pillows and cushions as he scanned the chords displayed on the screen, dancing his fingers along the frets and strumming softly as he went through the first few lines of the song time and time again. His soft voice, mixed with the gentle melody, began to work its magic. Your eyelids grew heavy as you continued to hear Santiago's voice like a distant lullaby.

“...I fretted fire but that was long ago.” Santi finished singing the first strophe with a triumphant smile, setting his fingers back to the first chord. “Honey, I think I got it! Check it-” He turned to you, seeking your approval, but instead found you curled against the pillows, breathing softly, finally asleep. “I guess I’ll show you in the morning.” Santi gently lowered the guitar and turned off the light, casting the room into darkness again as he wrapped himself around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone as you settled in.

You were the reason he could sleep now, who was he not to help you whenever you needed to rest, too.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Pleasae reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / (Delayed) Day Seventeen

SQUIRTING / DOM-SUB/ PERIOD SEX (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader

Summary: It’s that time of the month and on the one occasion where you’re not really in the mood, Santiago thinks he has the perfect way to relieve you of your pain.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, mentions of blood but I tried not to go into too much detail, period sex, P in V, protected sex (always stay protected babes)

Word Count: 3k

Author's Notes: I still wanted to post this fic even though I have had the worst four days, I may explain in a separate post but the universe has not been kind.

“Santi, are you sure about this? It’s gonna look…” 

Your expression scrunched, hands waving around as you tried to find words that didn’t sound awful. 

“You know…”

When he started seeing the telltale signs, Santiago knew your time of the month was coming.

You found the littlest things at work annoying and then, there were occasions where you only gave short, snappy answers before apologising profusely. To top it off, two days ago, you bawled at a video of a cat bringing flowers to their owner everyday.

Santiago was always good to you when you were on your period.

He’d make sure there were snack supplies, would still kiss you when you’d spent all day in goblin mode and called to check if you needed anymore tampons, never batting an eyelid at the cashier when he handed them over.

But this, this was too much.

“When you said romantic, I thought it would be a bath together, maybe a spa day.”

He smoothed out the blanket on the bed after promising that it could take what was about to happen to it — it was innocent, it didn’t deserve the horrors it will see.

“We can make it romantic,” he sauntered over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’ll light some candles, play some music.”

You purse your lips whilst making a noise of disagreement, hugging his sweater you wore closer to your frame.

“My flow’s really heavy.”

His warm palm came to your cheek, gently turning your head so your eyes could meet.

“All the more reason to try it.”

He wasn’t going into this blindly, this was just a new mission for him.

Researching online, he knew period sex could be fun as long as you took precautions and communicated. The endorphins could actually help with pain relief, your period blood may aid lubrication and he acknowledged that the pair of you may have to try a couple of positions until you discover what’s best for you.

This was all about you.

His thumb rubs gently, “Look, we’ll see where the night takes us, ok?”

You smile sweetly at him, leaning into his touch in response rather than words.

The two of you had an easy night in, ordering takeout and settling on the couch, Santiago even put on sweatpants which was a rarity in your eyes. After the short argument on the fact he does frequently wear comfortable clothing, he put on a film to distract you.

If only he could stop directing your attention to him.

You always had to snuggle to him on evening’s like this, you tucked under his arm and brought your knees up to rest on his widely spread legs. However as the light dimmed outside and you hugged your frame closer, eyes in front, you felt his hand shift.

The heel was still on your shoulder yet his fingertips started to dance over the curve.

The more you ignored him, the harder he tried to get you to notice him. He moved on from your shoulder, stroking his palm up and down your arm, a little squeeze so you nestled further into him even though you were almost in his lap.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he feigned his innocence.

When you looked up at him, eyes narrowing, he focused on the television with a smug look on his face. You sigh, attempting to watch the movie again but you’d already lost track so as his fingers came to play with your hair, you welcomed it.

Your head fell onto his shoulder and he moves to press his nose into your hair, breathing in the delicate scent of coconut.

You bring your hand to his, entwining your digits together, your other hand resting over the dull ache that was spreading across your womb. 

Santiago wasn’t the only one who’d done his research, you had considered period sex so many times, never having the confidence to ask any other partner. Yet here he was, offering himself and all your mind could pivot around was the mess, the possibility of additional pain.

You let out a shaky breath.

He loosens his grip when he senses you moving.

You shuffle, repositioning yourself before blocking his view. You’re unable to look him in the eye, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear.

He caught how your teeth grazed lightly on your bottom lip.

“If we do this, we keep the lights off…”

He nods, he would prefer to see your face but he understands, it’s going to be a bloody mess, quite literally.

“And if I say sto—“

He immediately grabs your hand, “I’ll stop.”

You weren’t quite sure why you needed some reassurance on that when he always did. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on his rolling thumb, how it follows the bumps of your knuckles in the rhythm of your pulse.

His features softened as you opened your eyes.

He always had such a hard shell, one that had been built with years in the field. Seeing what he’d seen, doing what he’d done, you would never fully understand but this was a side his comrades saw and luckily, you did too.

Straightening up, his hand continues to hold yours, coaxing you to follow him.

“I’m gonna freshen up,” you say the moment you pass the threshold of the bedroom.

“Hey,” he tugs you towards him, “not so fast.”

One arm coils around your body, hand flushed against your lower back, his other hand sweeping up your neck. His fingers comb through your hair before he gently pushes the back of your skull, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss is tender at first, subduing the worry that was building. Then he jutted his chin, his lips heavy as his carnal urges took over and you couldn’t find a way to stop your own.

You bring your palms to his chest, raking them over his shirt and feeling the outline of the muscles under his shirt. Your fingertips grazed the spot on the base of his neck and he moans, the vibrations travelling straight to your cunt, heat spreading…

Or you hope it is.

The sensation snaps you into reality and you try to draw yourself back, not before he nibbles your bottom lip, pulling gently as you part.

He lets you go, “Don’t leave me waiting too long.”

You giggle anxiously, the temperature rises in your cheeks as you hurry into the bathroom and lock the door.

Pressing your back against the wood, you steady your breaths. You weren’t sure why your emotions were playing with you the way they were, you wanted this, really wanted it. Except that little niggle in the back of your mind made you think you were in that percentage that found period sex uncomfortable, and you didn’t want to be that person.

Santiago paused for a moment when you entered the bathroom.

He brushed his hand over his jaw, noting how he’d already gained a semi just from the fleeting kiss you’d just shared. Then he got to work, he was determined to make this the best experience he could offer because, if all things go well, this could end up being a regular occurrence.

Once you’d gotten yourself sorted, you tentatively stepped out to see him perched on the end of the bed. The single source of light came from the lamp on the bedside table, refracting off the couple of condom packets he’d place on the bed.

His eyes roved your naked body even as your hands covered your mound, legs fixed together.

“Santi,” the heat rose, “don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not allowed to admire you?”

Not like this, not when you could feel a droplet of blood starting to run down your leg.

He gives a reassuring smile, “You ready?”

You practically run, hopping onto the bed next to him before crawling up the blanket. He went to say something about your enthusiasm until he clocks the crimson streaking your inner thigh as you lay back.

His hand at your ankle causes you to flinch.

“Querida,” his voice mellows.

“I’m sorry.”

He hears how your words shake, rubbing your calf in a soothing manner as he focused on your panic-stricken face. As he carried on, your apprehensions washed away, loosening your muscles so you sank further into the mattress.

“I’ve got you.”

The smile comes to your lips and he doesn’t need a response.

Leaning over, he take his touch from you as he turns off the light. He shuffles himself closer, his covered crotch nestling between your thighs, the outline of his cock brushing your sensitive bud. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from moaning.

His hand moves to the outside of your figure, following your outline. He skims over your breast and décolletage before he coil it around your neck. The tip of his nose grazes your cheek as he brings his lips to yours, kissing softly before putting some strength behind it.

He spreads his knees wider, opening you up as he fuses his free hand to your waist. Rolling his hips, his cock drags slowly over your fold, nudging your clit before falling back.

Your head tips backwards as a honeyed groan escapes you, allowing his tongue to slip passed your lips.

Your hands finally lift from the bed, holding his hips until you coiled them over his back and up his spine. He shivers under your touch, his purr rumbling in his chest as you push him closer to your body.

He tears himself from your lips and you gasp for air, your cheeks already flushed from the rising temperature between you. Unravelling himself, he straightens up, head cocking to the side as he searches for your features in the darkness. 

It’s like you can feel his eyes on you even though you can’t see him so you hide, arms folding over your face.

“Getting shy on me?”

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckles, your body couldn’t hide your pleasure.

Your arousal was pooling with your monthly flow, his briefs moist with a wet friction stiffening his length.

He brought both his hands to the swell of your breasts, slightly plumper with your period, and for his enjoyment, more sensitive. He barely squeezed them yet you whine as he rolled them in his palms, back arching into his touch.

“Santi,” you grumble sweetly.

He squashes your tits a fraction more, the next rut of his hips harsher.

“Fuck, Santi!”

Part of you believed he would be kinder to you, softer in his actions but this was Santiago Garcia, he always liked things a little bit rough.

He shushes you, “You’re doing great, querida.”

You were panting as his motions built, the desire in your belly swelling with the pressure. Closing your eyes, you can picture him with his dark, hungry eyes, jaw tightening as he focused on your folds splaying around his shielded cock.

And you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Santi,” you say breathily, “I need… need you inside me… please.”

You broke him from his trance, his hips stilling.

Suddenly he remembered why he was doing this, that he was meant to be making you feel better rather than inflicting some passionate pain. His hands relaxed and he bends to deliver kisses where there once was discomfort.

You sigh at the warmth of his breath.

He composes himself, he gets off the bed to take off his briefs, swiftly opening the bathroom to toss them in the sink. His footsteps come back, the light rustles as he picks up a condom and rips open the packet.

Pinching the tip of the condom, he unfurls it down his length.

“Want to try a different position?”

There was something online about having it so the cervix was positioned higher to stop it being uncomfortable or being hit.

You hum quizzically.

“Lay on your side.”

You follow his instruction, rolling onto your left, head glancing over your shoulder as the bed rocks beneath you.

He brings his body near, his hands dragging your hips so he can slide his cock into the crevice between your cheeks. After a few more strokes, he lifts your leg, easing his way towards your folds. He lines himself up before pushing the tip into your entrance.

You release a small grunt, your pussy clenching at the slight discomfort.

“Want me to stop?”

His hand caresses your leg.

“Just give me a sec.”

Your body’s reaction was to bring a strong wave of cramps, ones that would usually have you receding, clutching helplessly under your belly button. Your nails buried into the fabric beneath you as you inhaled, your digits loosening when you let out a long exhale.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he whispers.

You repeated the steps, closing your eyes to focus on the sensation of Santiago rubbing your skin. The contraction gradually faded, being replaced with an aching desire that needed to be sated.

“Ok, I’m good.”

He places a kiss on your shoulder, dropping your leg.

With the increased lubrication, his cock pushes into you with ease, your walls stretching to fit around him snuggly. He sighed as he filled you out, wrapping an arm around your chest so your back was pressed to him.

He drew out without any resistance, snaking his other arm underneath your neck to prop your head up. Your eyes search for his, making out the faintest details, the nose edging down your shoulder to the crook of your neck.

The kiss comes as he rocks his hips, stuffing you inch by inch.

Your mouth falls open, a moan escaping as you sink further into his frame. He keeps his movements slow, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you when your body was most vulnerable.

“I want more,” you whine, “please.”

He couldn’t deny you when you asked so nicely.

His thrusts picked up the pace, not too hard but enough to have every part of you come alive. You reached for the arm hugging you, coiling your hand around his wrist.

The more your juices spilled, the sloppier the mess came between your thighs and the noises were intoxicating. The squelching worked in chorus with your honeyed groans, your hushed profanities and squeals of his name turned his head to mush.

Santiago didn’t know whether it was because you were more sensitive but your cunt fluttered continuously, trying to hold onto his length.

Your hand released his wrist before heading towards your mound. It hovers as if you have second thoughts about touching yourself like you normally would, remembering that you may coat your fingertips in blood.

His own hand takes it’s place, a finger hooking up the hood of your clit as he presses with another. He smirks when you shiver, a hoarse groan turning into nothing when your hips squirm underneath his touch.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, fuck,” your words get trapped in your throat.

He begins to rub delicate circles, listening to each sweet sound you make. Bringing his face closer, his nose prods at your cheek until you turn, your noses finally colliding.

You share the air he breathes, the heat sweltering as it rolls over your skin. It’s impossible to look for too long because even though you can’t see him, you sense his eyes honed on you, dark and unmoving. You whimper, screwing your eyes shut as you bury yourself into his arm.

The word still doesn’t come.

You were entering an ecstasy, the period pain seemingly cured, the ache in your core good rather than bad.

He knew you were nearing the edge, your legs vibrating first, your cries becoming desperate. His finger pushed harder on your tender bud, the shock waves rippling through your muscles and your hand locks to his.

“I know what you want,” he teases as he thrusts into you with force.

You release a single sob, of course, you wanted to come, every part of your body was screaming at you. However you knew Santiago, he fed off prolonging your release until you’re wrecked and speaking in tongues.

“Come for me.”

You let out a shaky breath, “But—“

It’s as if he presses a button, that single digit pining your clit down tipped the balance. You convulsed, the surge of pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers, the end of your toes. The blood rushed through your system, heart pounding as you threw your head back, jaw slackening so your mouth forms an ‘o’.

Your inner walls clung helplessly to his cock though he still worked you, helping you through your orgasm until it eased.

“Mind if I continue?”

You shake your head and he kissed your temple in thanks.

By the time he found his release, you had another as the aftershocks stoked the desire in your belly. The pair of you flaked out whilst he was still inside you, steadying your breaths until your chest rose in sync.

You moan when he decides to move.

“Stay there,” his fingertips graze your ankle as he heads to the bathroom.

He glances to his cock as the light blinks on, when his vision adjusts to the brightness, his one brow raises. It was clear where you had been, the scarlet stain covering the base of his cock and spreading over his thighs.

Easing the condom from his semi-hardened cock, he ties the end before tossing it aside with your underwear. He soaked a towel under a warm tap, cleaning himself off as best as he could, he needed a shower, you probably needed one too.

You were exactly where he’d left you. Covering your face, you didn’t dare look down, rolling over and spreading your legs for him to see.

“How bad is it?”

He chuckles, “You look as gorgeous as ever.”

You sigh when he starts to brush the towel against your skin, soft strokes as he cleaned your weeping cunt. It was embarrassing how much this turned you on, his measured touches making your toes curl.

His eye flitted down, the corner of his lips curling at the sight.

“Let’s jump in the shower,” he says.

You peek from behind your crossed arms.

“Will you fuck me while we’re in there?”

His smile broadened.

If you’d learnt anything tonight, he’d fuck you wherever, whenever you wanted him.

[crazyk-imagine]

Gym and Admin Work

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Front desk!reader

Characters: Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Front desk!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Santiago being a flirt, reader being sarcastic, the boys for sure tease the man, they lowkey ship the reader and Tago, cute date moment, reader and Tago are hooked

Word Count: 1.2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey,” he leans against the counter, smiling at you.

You glance over your shoulder and ignore him (again). 'This guy again?' You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time this week.

You should have listened to your friend when she said he’s going to keep coming by until you decide to accept going on a date with him or not.

It's been a never-ending cycle with him, but you can also admit that you're not completely upset over the attention he's been giving you… which makes no sense.

But, as you tell her, you like to make it fair by teasing him back.

You know, treat people the way you want to be treated, to which your best friend gives you the oddest look.

The more you think about it, the funnier it gets because he could say the most unheard of lines that come to him naturally, leaving your brain fried because no guy has given you the same attention he does.

But the funny part is when you use one of your lines on him, they leave him to be the quiet mess. It doesn't happen often but you can't lie, you love when it does.

"Same time next week?"

He crosses his arms and leans forward. "You know me so well."

You hum, clicking on the schedule to add him in. "I like to think I'm good at my job but sure."

"You're more than good."

You glance up at him from your lashes. "So, you keep saying."

"And I mean it every time, maybe more than the last." He lets his lips curve upward to smirk, loving the fact that he has your attention right now.

You avoid looking back at him, not wanting him to see the effect he has on you.

You wait for him to leave so you can focus and finish your shift but he’s making it harder for you to concentrate.

“Are my dazzling good looks distracting to you?”

You scoff, turning back to him. “You wish.”

And there it is.

“You know how much you flirt with me, you’d think you would have made more progress by now.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve made the right amount.”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back. “Well seeing as it’s my lunch break-”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?”

“I- let me take you out.”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t know.”

“It’ll be to make up for all the flirting you pretend to hate.”

“Sounds tempting.”

“I knew it would. I’ll take you anywhere you want?”

“Anywhere?”

He internally starts panicking, thinking about how he’s barely got ten dollars to his name, finding the extra cash they left behind was worth a little more than he expected.

He’s lucky to be alive right now after all the surgeries.

Goddamn, greedy son of a-

-

“Here?” You dragged him to a mom and pop shop.

You stare at the sign with a soft smile. “Yeah, right here is perfect.”

“Let’s go inside then?”

-

He looks around, wondering why you brought him here.

“The usual?” Your favorite waitress, Dottie asks.

You nod with a smile as she leads you to your favorite spot in the joint.

“You've been here before?” Santiago asks, wondering just how long you’ve been coming.

You shrug. “A few times.”

“Seems like more than a few,” he teases.

“What can I say? This place reminds me of home.”

He nods, stirring the sugar into the coffee. “What was that like?”

You pause, wondering if you heard him right. “What?”

“What was your home like? Your childhood, cringey teenage years. I want to hear it all,” he glances down, stirring the little creamer he added to his coffee.

You pause, unsure of how to proceed here. “What- what do you mean?”

He glances up, catching your nervous gaze. “I want to hear about what you were like in your younger years.”

“You want to hear more?” You ask with a confused pout.

He nods, sipping his coffee.

You gulp, “how long do you have?”

“I got as long as you’ll keep me sitting here. Hence, the coffee.”

The corner of your lips twitch. “You planned on opening me up, huh?”

He nods, pinching his thumb and index finger together to say a little bit.

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “You had this planned since you got in the car, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

You chuckle through your nose at his nonchalant behavior. “You just want to break me down and interrogate me, don’t you?”

He shakes his head, giving you his full attention. “No, I want to get to know you. Believe me, there’s a difference.”

You perk up in your seat. “Well then, Mr. Interrogator, why don’t you ask me a question and I give you an answer but only if you’ll do the same?”

He shrugs, “I don’t see why not?”

You smile, “good. Now…”

-

You two stay until your Dottie tells you they’re about to lock up, leaving you to drive him back to his friend's place.

“I had a good time.”

You don’t want him to leave.

“So did I.”

You glance away from him, unable to keep eye contact with him anymore. “I- can we do this again sometime?”

He smiles, loving how nervous you are and can’t hold eye contact with him. He leans in, cupping your cheek; his eyes switching between your eyes and your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You take a deep breath and let out a quiet mumble, “uh huh.”

He leans in, leaving enough space for you to back out.

You cup his cheeks and pull him closer, practically over the gear shift. You part from the other to breathe. “Wow.”

“Told you I’d be worth it.”

You scoff and shove his shoulder, “and there goes all the progress we made this evening.”

He smirks, “I don’t think so. I think this just proved I’m able to keep up with you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “get out before I kick you out.”

“That’s not nice to say to your new boyfriend.”

You let out a surprised scoff.  “Someone’s optimistic.”

“I have one foot in the door, excuse me for being a little cocky.”

You shake your head, making sure he gets in before you take off.

-

The smile doesn’t come off your face for the rest of the evening.

Your cheeks hurt more when you look at your phone and see your text notification pop up and your best friend's name pops up before his text.

HottoTrot24

“I told you you wouldn’t regret giving him a shot” Sent Read 10:34pm

“I’m happy you finally decided to do something about it” Sent Read 10:34pm

Santiago … *delete name* Santi

Santi typing…

“Wanted to tell you gnight” Sent Read 10:36pm

Santi’sGirl

“Go to sleep you dork, get some rest. You need it after today” Sent Read 10:39pm

Santi

“I wanted to say gnight first and… Don’t forget to dream of me” Sent Read 10:41pm

You roll your eyes as your cheeks hurt.

There was no way you weren’t already smitten with this man, he wormed his way into your heart and mind without you realizing it… and you don’t care.

[jake-g-lockley]

Would you mind doing prompt 18 with either Jake Lockley or Santiago Garcia? I couldn’t decide which one I wanted more, so I’ll let you decide ❤️

Erase it (Santiago Garcia x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it

Word Count: 2.6k A/N: Fun fact! This period fic was just sitting in my drafts for a while but this prompt inspired me to add a lil something hehe. Enjoy <3

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (doesn’t matter if you’re on your period, WRAP IT UP), i'm back at it with the idiots in love trope <3

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't decide whether mother nature had decided to play a nasty trick on you or had blessed you with a chance when your period had made its uninvited appearance. It was an unusually cold night in Bogotá but you woke up sweating, pure pain radiating from your lower abdomen, edging itself towards your lower back. You panicked slightly when you turned, feeling a wet patch under you. 

“Shit …” you mutter as you scramble to get out of bed to turn on the lights.

You were right, you had bled through your pants onto the bed below you as you slept. The past few weeks have been absolute hell, you and the boys have been out and about. Today had been the day where they checked into a hotel and you guess that your body decided to let go of all its stress that it was holding and push it out of your uterine lining. Your period had been late and your flow was heavy despite it being literally the first day. The cramps were biting into you, making you curl your body forward each time another wave hit you.

You ransacked your bag and the hotel room, but found no pads or even tampons. Part of you was ready to just free bleed but the other part of you just wanted to cry. All you wanted was a hot cup of chocolate and a large pad but you couldn't go and get it yourself, not in the streets of Bogotá at 2 am in the morning. You bit your lip and decided to admit defeat, walking out of your room and padding sadly towards Santi and Frankie’s room. You hesitated slightly before knocking their door.

Santi flung the door open and squinted down at you warily, sleep heavy in his eyes. His curls were astray and he was pulling down his sleep shirt, exposing some skin that made you blush a little. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled, a warm feeling coursing through you at how genuine he looked. 

There's no way that this man could look this good even when he slept.

You were pretty sure you looked like a gremlin in your oversized t-shirt and blood covered shorts. 

“Everything okay?” he mumbled, sleep coating his usual gruff voice, softening out its edges.

To put it plainly, his voice sounded like it had been touched by a siren. 

“Uhm, yea kinda, but also no.” you look downward, shifting from one foot to another. 

Santi raised an eyebrow but let you continue.

“Sorry for waking you Pope, but I need a little help.”

“That’s alright, querida. Name it, I’m at your service.” he said bowing a little, making you giggle.

You hugged yourself, feeling very vulnerable as you bit your lip

“I started my period.” you whispered

Santi gave you no reaction to what you had said and you wondered whether he had fallen asleep with his eyes open and standing up.

“Okay, need me to get you anything?” he said, instead giving you a small smile.

That took you aback slightly, no one had said something like this to you so casually. Normally men would lean on the extremes, either making it a big deal, as if you were on the verge of death or downplaying it and making you feel small

“Yes, please. I just need pads, the biggest ones you can find please and something for the pain.” you meddled with the edge of your shirt, twisting it in a comforting pattern. 

“Alright, lemme just get my wallet. Wait for me in your room, okay?” he said cupping your face with his hand, an unusual act of affection from him.

“Okay. Thanks, Santi.” you smile, forcing down your tears as you look away from him

You went back to your room and took a nice shower, letting the hot water soothe your body. You heard a knock and you shut off the shower, pulling a fluffy towel around you before letting Santi in.

“I- oh.” Santi said before turning around when he realised you were only in your towel.

“Oh, it's fine. I’m decent. I mean the towel is long enough.” you laughed a little awkwardly.

Santi set the big bag of things he got for you onto the bed. He pulled out a packet of big pads, several of your favourite chocolate bars, pain ointment, painkillers, a hot water bottle and lastly a pack of cotton underwear. You didn’t realise you had a hand on your mouth as you watched Santi pull out the stuff from the bag

You were absolutely flabbergasted

“Fucking hell, Santiago Garcia.” you breathed. 

You stepped closer to him and grabbed the pack of pads, examining it with a smile before turning to face him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. When you pulled away, you noted how red his face had gone, and the dopey expression that lined it. You thanked him profusely and rushed into the bathroom to get changed. 

You finally felt nice and fresh. You came out to find Santiago laying a towel on the soiled part of your sheets and you started to tear up. You sniffling made him look up and he just opened his arms out understandingly. You almost run to him, letting him envelope you in his warm, comforting embrace. 

“How do you feel?” he murmurs into your hair. 

“Much better, thanks Santi.” you say into his chest, breathing in his soft scent as your tears get caught in his sleep shirt. 

“Alright, I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” he said before slowly pulling away. 

You were rendered confused, and he didn’t even get to put his hand onto the doorknob before you grabbed onto his wrist. His confused stricken face made you blush and drop his hand.

“Could you maybe stay?” you ask, slightly bashful.

Santiago just smiled at you, studying your face. 

“Sure, I’d love to get away from Frankie’s snores for a while.” he said after a few seconds, making you snort. 

He grabs a few of the chocolate bars before he leads you to the couch. You open one of the bars and break it into half, giving the other half to Santiago. The both of you nibbled on the chocolate and laughed about old memories. 

You watched as Santiago animatedly tells you about the boys and their shenanigans. Oh, to be Santi’s girl. You would be treated like a queen, forget it, you would be treated like a goddess, mainly because this man had the heart to be absolutely head over heels over someone. 

“There was once where Benny tried to pet a dog, it was a calm dog, for your information, and the dog lunged at Benny so fast that all we saw was Benny’s rifle flying 30 feet away in one direction and Benny running as fast as he could in the other direction.” You laughed a little too hard and felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, making you double up in pain. 

Santiago held you and pressed his hand over yours on your tummy. For the first time panic flashed through his eyes, not knowing whether this was a normal thing. 

“Ugh I hate taking pain killers, it's not like they work anymore.” you straighten your back as the pain ebbed away. 

Years of chronic pain have made painkillers essentially useless for you. Santi nods understandingly, rubbing the back of his neck. Suddenly a sheepish look settled upon his face.

“What?” you say squinting at him

“It's nothing.” he said and you swore you could see a tinge of pink upon his cheeks. 

“I demand you to tell me, I'm the one in horrendous pain,” you winced.

Santi settled back onto the couch and pulled you down with him with a sigh. 

“Remember when we were small and our mom’s would take care of us?” he said softly.

“Of course.” you said, snuggling a little closer to him.

“You know when you would fall down and your mother will always have that one special remedy?” his voice edged into a whisper.

“Hmm? A bandage and some tylenol?” you say back, totally oblivious. 

“No, I mean what comes after the bandage and the tylenol?” he says a little exasperatedly now. 

You look up at Santi with a pout and shrug. He sighs again, this time with a small smile on his face as he brushes away a wet strand of hair from your face. 

“When they kiss it all better?” 

It took you a while to process what Santiago was trying to tell you. Suddenly it clicked but you didn’t let it show, masking your shock at what Santiago was implying with confusion to divert him.

“You wanna be my mom, Santi?” you feign confusion and he rolled his eyes.

You sit up slightly and press your lips together, trying to keep your laugh in. 

“I’m just playin’, I’d love to kiss me all better, not that you’d know where to kiss-.” 

His lips caught yours before you could finish your sentence. He sighed sleepily into your kiss and caressed your cheek with his knuckles. You smiled against his lips and anchored yourself against his chest, fingers feeling up whatever was under his sleep shirt. 

He pulled away and smiled at you, a boyish smile that made him look several years younger. His fingers were at your chin and he turned our face so that he could plant another kiss onto your cheek before pulling you down onto his chest. You groaned again and clutched at your stomach as another wave of pain crashed through you.

“Guess your remedy didn’t work.” you mumbled sadly into his chest as his hand kneaded your lower back with soft pressure. 

Santiago stayed silent for a while and you slowly felt yourself getting sleepier with his presence but a few biting cramps kept pulling you out of your relaxed state. 

“I… umm… heard somewhere that there is a way to take the pain away.” Santiago stuttered a little, a little unusual for someone who was usually so calm and collected.

“I’ll do anything.” you muttered again.

“Anything?” 

“Well not do hard drugs but you know, yes anything.” you sigh. 

“It involves coming.” Santi says after a few seconds of silence

“Going where?” you said without missing a beat, the pain clearly making you stupid

Santiago’s nervous expression shifts to a blank one as he stares at you incredulously

“Pope, what?” this time you were genuinely confused as you stared at his face. 

“I mean, like, ORGASM!” he whisper-shouted.

oH-

 Now it was your turn to be nervous. You eyed Santiago and picked at a hangnail on your finger. 

“Let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to something more sultry and you felt your insides swim with desire. 

“How?” you whispered. 

Santiago wanted to buy his time by whispering all of the sweet and sacrilegious things he had been meaning to do to you but in your current state, he would rather just blatantly tell you before he made a fool of himself.

“Let me touch you and help you relax.” his eyes were so soft when they met you and you found yourself trusting him entirely.

“Okay.”

With your confirmation, Santiago scooped you up and walked you to the bed, laying you down on the towel he placed there earlier, before pulling his shirt off and crawling beside you. Your heart thudded in your chest as you pressed your legs together and stared up at Santiago. You’ve never seen this look on his face before and he was studying you, his eyes scanning your body as your breath quickened. 

“Relax, querida, I’ll take care of you.” he said, pulling your oversized t-shirt up slightly before hooking his fingers at your shorts, tugging them down gently, easing your legs apart. 

The cold air on your bare pussy made you shiver and he eyed your core in a way he’s never looked at you before. You let yourself sink down at his soft touches, his fingers kneading gently at the skin of your thigh as he kissed your knee. He kept his eyes on you as his fingers found your clit and you squeezed your eyes shut at the soft pressure. Silently, he began to softly rub at your clit, easing out soft moans and whimpers from you. You felt the tension in your abdomen pull away as it is replaced by another sensation, one that was egged on by the attractive man who was hovering over you. 

“How do you want me?” he asked softly over your whines. 

“Anything you can give me.” you breathed back, and instantly, he slipped two of his fingers inside you, making your head drop back with a delicious moan. 

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, and you started whispering his name like a prayer almost like you were pleading for him to not stop. His thumb swiped at your clit when your walls started to get tighter around his fingers and the band that he was building instantly snapped and your back arched off the bed as you came with a gut wrenching moan. 

You dropped back down onto the bed and caught your breath, your vision swimming as you vaguely heard yourself thank Santiago. You felt the bed dip around you and your eyes dropped down to where Santi’s hand was. He had rid himself of his pants and was gently pumping himself up and down, smearing your blood on himself, eliciting a string of curses from your own mouth. You dropped your knees open and he pushed himself in, filling you up to the brim as you gasped at his size. He dropped himself onto his forearms, caging you as his lips whispered soft nothings into your ear.

“So wet and warm… Still so fuckin’ tight…” he started pistoning his hips pulling out moan after moan from you again. “Fuck, you feel so good, I need to make you feel good.” 

He was making you feel good. All of the pain had vanished and was replaced with quaint pleasure coursing through your veins. The intimacy of it all made you feel so vulnerable yet safe. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly, letting him drop his head against your shoulder as your pussy started to grip him with absurd strength. 

“So close…” you managed to breathe and Santi nodded, unable to form any words.

His fingers dropped to your clit once more and it didn’t take much for you to snap again, Santi spilling into you with a sharp moan to the column of your throat. He slumped against you and your hands lazily scraped at his scalp.  All of your muscles were relaxed and it was replaced with soft clouds of pleasure that turned your mind hazy. You kissed Santiago’s temple and thanked him over and over as he soothingly kissed your neck.

“Better?” he mumbled into your neck.

“So much better.” you breathed, sleep pulling your eyelids over your eyes.

“Shh, rest, I got you baby. I always got you.” was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to the powerful callings of sleep. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up curled up against him, his hand pressing a now lukewarm hot pack to your abdomen as he cuddled you close. While you were asleep, he changed you, and made sure you were comfortable before settling to sleep. His nose now was buried in your hair and your back was flush to his chest, impossibly close. 

You held on to his arms and you pulled him closer, praying that he would never slip away, knowing that he’d be able to erase everything that could harm you. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~~

Tagging: @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @lia275 @euphoricosmo @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @swiggy-needs-mental-help @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @melodygatesauthor

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Synopsis - Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Pairing - ExBoyfriend!Santiago Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count - 2.6k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. kinda toxic relationship dynamic. cursing. angst. this one gets a little rough.

Author's Note - I was in a mood when I wrote this. it's not often I write angst like this, but when I do, I aim to break some hearts. not sure why I chose Santiago for this one... it just felt right. I know this isn't a part of any of my series, but this idea came to me and I managed to bang it out in an hour. series fics coming soon - promise!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

This is the way it always goes.

You know it's him as soon as you hear the knocking.

He always knocks as if he's trying to break the door down. Maybe he is. He's broken down everything else in your life.

This is the way it always goes.

You tell yourself you're not answering. You're going to sit here and listen to him bang on the door. Then you'll listen as he yells, begs, tries to sweet talk you through the heavy oak, words seeping through the wood like raindrops. You're not answering.

But then he uses that tone, the honeyed, dulcet, low and raspy one. The one that shoots straight to your heart. His voice cracks, and so does your resolve.

You slowly wander towards the front door, sitting down against it with a thud. He hears it. He knows you're there. He knew you'd come around.

"Baby," he whispers.

You hear him loud and clear.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your baby, Santiago."

You're trying to sound authoritative but you just sound broken. Lost. Helpless.

"You are," he pleads. "Don't say that. You are my baby. You're always going to be my baby."

"No, I'm not," you plead back.

This is the way it always goes.

"You're the love of my goddamn life, honey. When are you going to realise that?"

"I'm not," you counter. "I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not."

There are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks. You didn't even realise you were crying until you felt the water hit your lap. He always makes you cry.

Your lover shouldn't make you cry.

"Just let me in. Let me see you. Please."

It's always the pleading please that gets you. Santiago isn't exactly a polite man. He gets what he wants and he takes what he needs and he usually doesn't care who gets hurt in the process.

"No, Santiago. No. You do this every time. Nothing ever changes. You never change."

"I'm trying, baby. I promise you I am. It's hard, it's really fucking hard, but I'm trying. For you. I'm trying for you."

You don't believe a word he says. You don't. But he sounds so... genuine. He's the king of false promises, Santiago Garcia. Maybe, just maybe, this time it won't be false. One of these days he'll actually follow through. Maybe.

"I can't do this, Santiago. I can't. You break me more every time."

Soon, there'll be nothing left for him to break.

"Don't say that. Baby, don't say that."

You hear his head hit your door with a thud, resting there. You turn to press your forehead into the wood, the two of you so close but still so far apart.

"You hurt me, Santiago. And every time I think I'm okay, you show up again. It isn't fair."

It isn't fair. But this is the way it always goes.

"I never wanted to hurt you, hermosa. I never meant to. I love you."

It's always those three little words that crack the very foundations of your heart, splintering it into a million tiny pieces.

It's always those three little words that make you relent.

You sigh deeply, and reach up above your head to undo the deadbolt. The noise startles Santiago from where he's sat with his head against the cold wood. He rises to his feet and takes a step back, careful and considered.

You take a deep breath and unlock the door. You don't open it. You can't bring yourself to.

Santiago does. He turns the handle gently and pulls it towards him, stood still in his place. He doesn't come in. He wants to hear you say it first.

You finally look at him, and you regret it instantly.

He looks good. So good. His hair has grown out longer than the last time you saw him, light stubble dusting his face. He's got more grays coming in, salt and pepper scattered amongst the darkness. The sun has kissed his skin on all of his missions abroad, making him glow. He looks delectable.

"Cariño," he breathes. "Fuck. You're so beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remember."

A tear drips down your cheek, soaking into the material of your shirt. He sounds so sincere. He is so sincere. You know he thinks the world of you. It's so painful.

This is the way it always goes.

He takes a step towards you, and you suddenly find you can't move. The rational part of your brain is telling you to get back, to put as much distance between you as possible. But you don't. You stay exactly where you are, allowing him to invade your space.

Santiago leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, large, calloused hands cradling your face tenderly.

"I missed you," he breathes, and you can taste the mint on his tongue. He's chewed this one type of gum since you've known him. He always tastes the same.

"You're gonna leave again," you whisper. "You come here, you fuck me up, and then you leave. I'm not doing it again, Santiago. I can't."

"I'm sorry, hermosa. So fucking sorry. You know I never meant to hurt you. You know that."

"Then why won't you leave me alone?" you cry. "I try to move on every fucking time, Santi. And then you crawl back into my life and I let you! I let you! I always say it's gonna be the last time, and it never is. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? I feel like a fool, Santi. A fucking fool!"

Silence.

"Santi," he repeats slowly.

You look at him incredulously, and then scoff in disbelief.

"What?"

"You called me Santi, not Santiago. Like the old days."

You didn't even realise you'd done it. It just feels so easy, to fall back into old habits. It's programmed into you, a part of your DNA now. He's your Santi and you're his baby and you'll break each others hearts a million times and keep on going.

This is the way it always goes.

He reaches back and shuts the door behind him. He's staying. For now. You look at him with teary eyes, bottom lip trembling.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," you jab shakily.

"Is that what I am to you, hermosa? An old habit?"

You inhale sharply.

"You're a hell of a lot of fucking things to me, Santi."

You want to step back. You want to push him away and throw him out the door. You want to hit him, scratch at him, punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face. But you don't. Instead, you step forward - straight into his outstretched arms.

You press yourself into him, tucking yourself into his broad chest. He wraps his arms around you as tightly as he possibly can, terrified that you'll disappear any second. You both exhale the past, and inhale the present.

"If you hurt me again, I'll kill you," you threaten, muffled by the cotton of his t shirt.

"I'd let you," he whispers into your hair. "I'd die a happy man if I was to die at your hands."

He always does this. Knows exactly what to say. Promises he won't leave. Then, inevitably, he gets a call, asking him to fly out to Colombia, Kenya, Alaska. And he goes. Without a second thought for you, he goes.

You've lost count of how many times it has happened. You're getting a horrible feeling of déjà vu. But you just can't bring yourself to break free from this hold he has on you. Not when he's rocking you gently, murmuring how you're his whole world, how he has nothing if he doesn't have you, how this time he'll be different.

You're not sure if you believe him. But you're sick of arguing with yourself and you're sick of pulling teeth. He'll break your heart again. Maybe you're immune to it now. There's only one way to find out.

"Make me forget," you whisper. "Make me forget all the shitty things you've done to me. Make me forget my own fucking name, Santi. Please."

He pulls back to look at you, to see if you mean it. You do. You're tired of fighting this. Of fighting the inevitable.

Santiago lunges forward and smashes his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He groans when he realises you taste the same. You chew that gum just for him.

He hooks his foot around your ankle and yanks, sending you flying backwards. Santi's got his arms firmly around your back, cushioning your fall. As soon as you hit the floor, he's on you. His lips are pressing into your neck, down your jaw, nipping at your ears. His hands are groping at you roughly - your hips, your tits, your ass. Anything he can grab, he does.

Santiago stops momentarily to look at you intently. He dips his head down and licks up your cheek before kissing your eyelids tenderly. You taste like salty tears and years of regret.

You tangle your fingers into his hair and pull as hard as you can, hoping to hurt him. He groans in pain, and a sick sense of satisfaction settles in your stomach. You want to hurt him. You want to hurt him like he hurts you.

You lean up and sink your teeth into the expanse of his neck, tasting the musky masculinity of him. He groans again, and you feel lightheaded, drunk off the sound.

"Fuck you," you murmur against his lips in between kisses. "Fuck you, Santiago Garcia."

"I love you," he whispers back against your mouth. "I'll love you forever."

You don't know whether you love him or hate him or neither or both and it's making you crazy. You knee him in the ribs and he folds forward, his weight dropping onto you. You want to feel every inch of him against you, every dip and curve and rough edge he has to offer.

You're ripping his shirt over his head before you can think twice. He's managed to pull your pants down your legs, throwing them behind him. He tugs at your shirt, gets frustrated, and rips it down the middle.

"Fucking asshole," you spit, sinking your nails into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

"You don't care," he drawls. "You love me and you don't care."

You grab at his belt, making sure it hits him in his side as you pull it through its loops. When he hisses in pain, you hit him with it again, this time on the ass.

"You wanna hurt me, hermosa, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you grit through your teeth, trying not to cry. "I want to do more than hurt you, Santi. I'd kill you if I could."

He kisses your neck so tenderly in response that you shake with rage. You keep trying to tell yourself that you don't want him, that you're better than this. It's no use. No one else in the world can make you feel the way Santiago can. You're cursed.

He's slipping your underwear down your legs and two fingers into the wet heat between your thighs before you can even think a coherent thought. You whine in response, canting your hips for more.

"You can lie to me all you want, honey. You can fight this all you need to," he murmurs, crooking his fingers. "But your body is giving you away. It always gives you away."

"I said make me forget, not remind me even more," you hiss.

He presses his thumb to your clit in response, the action making your legs go weak. You stop fighting him. Eventually, you always do. You surrender to Santiago, and go boneless on the floor.

"There we go," he coos. "You always give in, baby. That's how I know you love me."

You shake your head, tears welling on your waterline, saturating your eyelashes and making it hard to see.

"You do, baby. You do. I wouldn't be here if you didn't."

He speeds up his fingers, and it feels so good you see stars. Santiago leans down to kiss the spot underneath your ear, the one that makes you melt.

"Tell me the truth, my sweet girl. Please," he rasps against your skin. "Tell me you love me. Don't lie to me."

You're trying to clamp your mouth shut to stop the words escaping. They're on the tip of your tongue, begging to slip free. To make the pain go away.

"Please," he begs. "Please, baby."

He hooks his fingers just right, and your vision goes white. You're thrown into your climax with no warning.

"I love you," you gasp as you come. "I love you, Santi. Fuck."

You come down from your high, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your skin. You look up at Santi, and watch as the tears fall down his cheeks.

"I knew you did," he chokes out. "I knew I wasn't crazy. Fuck, I love you so much. I'll never let you go again."

He smashes his lips to yours, both of your cheeks wet with emotion, slipping against each other.

"I still hate you," you spit into his mouth.

"I know," he soothes back, running his tongue over your teeth. "I know."

This is the way it always goes.

Santi lines himself up between your legs, sliding home with a gasp. This is where he belongs. Home.

You throw your arms around his neck, trying to plaster yourself to his front. He rocks his hips steadily, sending you both sliding across the floor.

This is the way it always goes.

The two of you never make it past the hallway. Whenever Santiago comes back to you, it always ends with the two of you tangled together on the floor, limbs intertwined and bodies connected. You once tried to move the two of you to the couch, but Santi fucked you so hard you slid off the cushions anyway.

Much like he's doing now.

He snaps his pelvis into yours, the force of it making you keen. You're gasping into each others mouths, hands grappling at whatever you can find. His grip on your hips is so tight, you know you'll be black and blue tomorrow.

"Tell me you're mine," Santiago rasps into your mouth. "Please, baby. Please. Tell me you're mine."

You're so close you can taste it. As much as you don't want to admit it, the key to your release is those two words. You need to let go in more ways than one. You need to let go of the pain, the resentment, the regret, the false hope. You need to let go of everything, and surrender to the truth.

"I'm yours," you sob, tears running down your cheeks. "I'm yours, Santi. I always have been."

"You're mine," he confirms, pressing kisses all over your face. "And I'm yours, baby. I'm yours forever."

That's all you needed.

The two of you fall over the edge together, chests heaving and hips stuttering. You reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him down to your mouth. You're gasping against his lips as he chants sweet nothings against yours, the two of you panting and writhing.

Santiago collapses against you, his body acting as a weighted blanket. You wrap your arms around him, tracing absent minded patterns across his sweat slick skin. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, pressing occasional kisses wherever he can reach.

"I meant what I said," you murmur into his hair. "If you hurt me again, I'll kill you. I know at least three people that'd help me cover it up."

"Are those people Benny, Frankie and Will?"

"No comment."

He chuckles lowly, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"And I meant what I said. I'm yours. I'm yours forever."

This is the way it always goes.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Pairing: Santi x Frankie x Benny x trans!reader (its poly folks!)

Word Count: 2.3 k

Rating: R (theres so much smut guys)

Summary: Finally your feelings for each other come out one night.

Author: Mod Mouse

Warnings: Cursing, use of petnames, male terms for genitalia, and just so much gay sex (18+ MDNI)

You could blame the alcohol. You could blame the years of pent up crushes and longing. But something stirred in your little group tonight. It started with a few drinks watching a shitty movie in your living room, but soon you all confessed your attractions to each other. 

And that’s how you found yourself slowly riding Benny’s cock as Frankie tasted Santi’s dick with long licks. The headboard steadying you as you bounced in Benny’s lap, enjoying how it hit all the right places inside you. His strong hands gripped your hips as he pressed his face into your chest. Your skin muffled the loud moans emanating from his plump lips. 

“Fuck you make him sound so pretty,” Santi moaned and you turned your head. A mewl escaped your lips as you watched Frankie expertly swallow Santi down to his base. His adam's apple bopped as his throat adjusted to Sant’s thick cock. 

Drool ran down the side of Frankie’s cheek as he kept his eyes on Santi. 

Benny peaked over your shoulder to take in the scene too. The sight caused his dick to twitch inside of you, making you wiggle your hips . You smirked and tangled your fingers in his messy hair giving it a gentle tug. Benny whimpered at the action and gazed up at you with his puppy dog eyes. 

“Does that sight turn you on Benny? Seeing your best friend take a cock so well?” You asked as you rocked your hips back and forth. Benny was quick to nod and nuzzled his face into your neck peppering it with kisses. “Good, cause it turns me on too.” 

You turned your head towards Santi again and you clenched when you saw both of their eyes set on you. Frankie nuzzled against Santi’s thigh as he slowly stroked Santi’s cock. 

“Fuck let’s give them a show, Benny” You softly commanded and gently pushed Benny against the headboard. Balancing yourself on his shoulders, you lifted your hips just enough for his tip to stay inside you before slamming back down to the hilt. 

Benny squeezed his eyes shut as you bounced on his cock not leaving any time to breathe. “Fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna,” He panted and babbled as you slammed down on his cock again. This was enough for him to finish deep inside of you coating your insides with his cum. Frantically you stroked your own cock searching from your high as you didn’t let up on your movements. It didn’t take long for you to find your climax and you squeezed around Benny leaning into his chest for support. 

Gently Benny wrapped his arms around you grounding yourself against his skin. You panted as your orgasm subsided, the sound of Benny’s heartbeat grounding you. It took you a moment before you slid off of Benny’s softening cock nuzzling into his side. When you glanced back over at the pair, you blushed. 

The show you had put on for them had quite the effect on the men. Cum painted Frankie’s flushed cheeks and a darking puddle gathering under him. Evidence for both of their orgasms.

 Benny smirked and gently kissed your shoulder. “Damn cutie, they seemed to like what we showed them.” 

“That does seem to be the case.” You smiled gently caressing random shapes into Benny’s chest. 

Frankie rolled his eyes at your comments and crawled his way over to the two of you. Slowly he leaned over and kissed Benny’s lip. Benny closed his eyes and kissed him back with a gentle lovingness. The younger man broke off a bit to lap up Santi’s cum from Frankie’s cheek. “It tastes so good.” 

Santi smirked as he stroked his cock back to full hardness. “Want a taste for yourself?” Benny licked his lips, his cock stirring to life once again and kissed Frankie once more before crawling to the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of Santi like the obedient boy he was. 

You smiled enjoying the view as Frankie gently nuzzled his nose into your cheek. The softness comforted you and you pulled him in for a slow and gentle kiss. Wet sounds filled the room once again as you heard Benny take Santi’s cock into his mouth. Santi’s grunts sent electric shocks down to your cock. 

“I wanna taste Benny on you. Why don’t you lay back and let me clean you.” Frankie mumbled against your skin. 

“Please.” You begged. 

Slowly Frankie kissed down your body, taking his time showing you how much he loves your body. He wasn’t the only one who waited a long time for this, and by god were you all going to enjoy this. 

With each kiss he inched lower and lower down your torso keeping eye contact with you as he descended closer to your cock. You whine softly, dragging your fingers through his dark curls. “Frankie, don't tease me.” 

“Oh and your little show wasn’t teasing?” He smirked as he kissed just above your cock. 

“Okay but you were teasing me with that mouth of yours.” You playfully argued.

“Let me show you how I can tease with this tongue.” He chuckled before licking a long trail from your hole to your cock. He moaned as the taste of Benny’s cum mixed with the taste of your arrousal. You moaned and pulled gently at his hair. “Taste divine mi vida.” 

“Fuck Frankie.” You moaned caressing his stubbled cheek. 

Frankie chuckled and began to lick and suck at your cock with more fervor as if your dick was his last meal. His eyes never left yours as you ground your hips in his nose looking for more stimulation. The hook of his nose made for a perfect grounding point. 

Santi playfully smacked Frankie’s ass as he thrusted into Benny’s mouth. “He has such a good mouth on him.” You groaned in agreement as the heat in your stomach grew and grew. 

As if he knew where precisely to lick, you came against his tongue pressing your slit into his face. Whimpers escaped your lips as you rode his nose through your high, thighs pressing against his ears.

A chuckle came from the other side of the room. “If you don’t stop you might suffocate him.” 

Frankie smirked from between your legs. Gently he pried them apart as you panted. “You say that as if it's a bad thing.” 

You giggled. “As much as that sounds fun, I would hate for you to leave.” Your fingers pushed his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

Frankie gently laid on top of you, his lips glistening with your arousal. He kissed your cheek and whispered. “And I would hate to have missed that handsome hole of yours.” 

A shiver shook your body and you drew Frankie in for a long time tasting yourself on his lips. 

“You’ll get the chance now Cat.” Santi playfully tapped Frankie’s ass. “I want you inside him and Benny in that perky ass of yours.” Santi gently squeezed Benny’s neck, earning a moan from the man. “And I will fuck your ass.” Santi commanding presence from the army seeping into the bedroom. 

“Shit,” All three of you cursed as the dominance of Santi sent you all into a horny state. You were all quick to obey his command as the three of you lined up. 

“How would you like me Frankie?” You asked gently cupping Franki’s cheek. 

“I wanna watch that handsome face cum around my cock,” He moaned and pecked your lips in a quick kiss. 

A hand gently caressed Frankie’s cheek before someone dipped a finger inside of his ring of muscles. Frankie moans against your lips as Benny’s thrusted his fingers preparing him. Soon Benny’s moans join the serenade of sex as Santi did the same to Benny’s ass. You broke the kiss to watch the scene as Santi’s fingers opened Benny up. The sight was downright sinful as your little group prepared each other for such dubarchery. 

“Such a pretty sight you all make together,” Santi praised, leaning down to kiss Benny’s shoulder. Benny turned and nuzzled his cheek into Santi’s skin. Every touch with them was so tender and yet so careful. Careful that this was just some dream that would end at any moment. Delicate that after tonight everything would go back to the same way of life. But a hopeful part of you knew that couldn’t happen. 

After ample preparation on all sides, Santi slid his fingers out with a pop. “Now let’s see what sounds we can get out of you.” 

Frankie kissed you once more as he positioned his cock on your hole. With gentle thrusts, he pushed as all the way in with a moan. You gripped his shoulders as you adjusted to his size taking him in slowly. While Benny was longer than the pilot, Frankie was thicker than his best friend, and you were feeling it. Frankie leaned down to kiss you shoulder and whisper praises into your flushed skin. “Such a good boy you. You’re taking me so well.” 

His praises were cut off as Frankie moaned into your neck as Benny slid inside of him with the slow push of his hips. Just like Frankie did with you, Benny peppered his shoulders with his kisses. “Fuck you feel so good Cat.” Benny moaned as he rutted against Frankie, loving the way the older man squeezed around him. 

“I can’t be having you have all the fun.” Santi teased as he tapped his cock against Benny’s ass. He couldn’t wait any longer and soon he was buried to the hilt inside Benny.  

Santi glanced down the line of the moaning train. “Fuck all of you make such a pretty sight,” He praised lightly smacking Benny’s ass. “Should’ve been doing this long ago.” Santi thrusted into Benny causing all three of you to moan at the friction. 

“Such a tease.” You whined. 

Santi quirked his eyebrow. “Oh, how about this then?” Without warning he quickly thrusted faster into Benny, snapping his hips forward.

You threw your head back onto the pillows as Frankie’s cock rubbed at your walls. “Shit.” The friction of everything sent your head spinning. Thank god you didn’t have neighbors because the slap of skin alone was enough to alert them of your evening activities. 

Santi smirked as he continued his pace. Benny quickly went back to babbling, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s waist as he thrusted into his best friend. All Frankie could do was hold on tight as Santi’s movements thrusted him in and out of your hole. 

You wanted to drag this moment out forever. The way Santi’s eyes scrunched as Benny thrust back into him. The way Benny wrapped his arms around Frankie’s torso teasing his cock with playful thrusts. And the way Frankie leaned back to kiss Benny with such a gentleness. 

But your body had other thoughts. With all the friction and moaning, it wasn’t long until the chain reaction of orgasms started. It started as Benny, who couldn’t hold it in any longer erratically thrusted into Frankie as he was chasing his high. 

As he buried himself in Frankie, Frankie sped up his thrusts cumming inside you in quick bursts leaving you coated for the second time that night. Which then caused you to clench around his cock as you ground your hips together in wet slaps. The heat in your stomach bubbling over with waves of need. 

The whole scene of his longtime friends cumming together sent Santi over the edge and with one more snap of his hips, Santi spilled inside Benny with a low groan. 

The room was filled with the sounds of panting as everyone came back to reality. Everyone stayed close, reassuring each other with gentle caresses and kisses. Santi was the first to pull out, leaving Benny whimpering with the lack of friction. Frankie pulled out next, sighing as he watched his cum leak out of your hole. “Fuck that’s such a good sight.” 

Benny stayed inside Frankie letting himself enjoy the touch. Frankie smiled and kissed his cheek. “Ben, you gotta pull out. I gotta grab the washcloths.” 

“But you feel so nice.” He pouted, nuzzling his nose into Frankie’s graying hair. 

Santi chuckled and tapped Benny’s ass. “I’ll get it.” He kissed Benny’s head before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Carefully you guided the stuck pair down to the bed, curling into Frankie’s chest. It wasn’t long before soft snores came from Benny’s mouth, his soft cock falling out of Frankie’s ass. You chuckled softly. “We did wear him out.” 

“True but he also should still have the youth energy about him.” Santi retorted as he stepped out of the bathroom with a wet rag. Carefully he helped clean everyone up, making sure no cum was left over. He tossed the rag aside, something he would deal with in the morning. He curled in the other side of you, sandwiching you between Frankie and himself. 

Everyone was quiet for a moment except for the soft snores coming from Benny. You were just enjoying what they had all been waiting for. The emotions for each finally seeing the light of day. You broke the silence “I really wanna keep doing this. I-I really like you guys. And not just in some bro way. I-I” You whispered gently while playing with Santi’s hair. 

“We know mi vida. Cause we feel the same way. We can take whatever this is as slow as we want.” Frankie reassured you. 

“Me too. It…it will take me a while to adjust.” Santi admitted and you kissed his hair gently. 

Frankie leaned over and nuzzled his nose into your neck tenderly. “We aren’t going anywhere.” He planted a kiss on Santi’s head. 

“I’ve waited too long for this though.” Santi replied, nuzzling under your chin. 

“Then let’s not have it stop,” You whispered, kissing both of their foreheads. Hums of approval emitted from the two men. It wasn’t long until the group slowly drifted off to sleep, the feeling of deep affection fueling your sweet dream that night.

```````

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BENNY MILLER

guardian ♡ ⚤ (on hiatus) (this fic is currently being rewritten)

Your photo laid against rubble in Afghanistan saved Benny Miller's life, and when he returns home he discovers you're not as much of a stranger as he'd originally thought.

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