#sugar daddy!santiago garcia

[jamneuromain]

Addictive Chapter 1

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x PhD Candidate!Reader (You)

Warning: Unconventional Sugar Daddy!Santiago Garcia, Implied age gap (Santiago is in his late 30s, reader in her mid-20s), first meet, fluff, TW: conversation over drug abuse

Summary: The beginning of an unconventional sugar relationship.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I solemnly blame @innorogers for indulging me with sugar daddy!Santiago Gargia thoughts, and in addition, my thanks to @bigtreefest with her help on med school experiences.

Prologue< | Chapter 1 | >Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Sober

I do medicine.

>

*

Brown.

There’s a small bowl of brown powder right next to the coffee machine.

You retreat a couple of steps to observe the bizarre object.

The coffee machine, that one you know from the bottom of your heart. Someone specifically duck-taped the signage of “Cold” and “Hot” in ballpoint over the original buttons because they were worn out. The black crispy paint fell from all edges and corners of this crappy machine since it was moved around a lot. Legend has it that this machine nearly retired from the shared common room of the Physics Department and the Chemistry Department before it was rehired for the Med School.

The application for a new coffee machine was delivered to the Head of Pharmacology over a year ago, and some grad students were waging over whether the paperwork ended up in the Head of Pharmacology, Professor Yovanna Castillo’s private lab as nest materials for her rats.

No, that’s old news. This is new … You watch the brown powder cautiously, giving it a careful whiff.

You know someone on this level is doing a project that includes marihuana extractions, you honestly hope they didn’t leave their product here.

The strong spice knocks your brain dead for a minute before you can hastily put it back down and sneeze in the other direction.

Nutmeg?

“Oh, I’d probably not touch it if I were you.” Diego swoops into the breakroom, smooth as always, grabbing his mug from the counter, his eight white teeth on display as he spreads into a big smile, “Is that the marihuana product Professor Parker and Drew and their grads were working on? Gosh, I hope they don’t just leave this stuff around unattended.”

Diego got into the Pharma PhD program the same year as you did. He swoons every woman, from the age of eight to eighty with his warm, affectionate smile. Your friendship bonds over the shared catastrophic studying experience and your failed experiments. Although he looks into a different research field, that doesn’t stop you from helping each other now and then, from looking after lab rats to picking up his drunken ass in clubs you have only heard of.

You cough and wave in front of your nose to clear the smell, “No. Just spice. Nutmeg.” You frown, heavily, and ask in disbelief, “Who puts nutmeg in their coffee?”

Diego gives the brown nutmeg powder a whiff and pours a lethal dosage into his porcelain mug before placing it under the machine. His mug has that funny PhD joke on it that makes you smile every time.

I study famarcology phamacology pharmacologee I do medicine.

Diego shrugs behind his funny mug, “I do.”

“Lucky you.” You murmur darkly, grabbing your lukewarm coffee and gulping down as much caffeine as possible.

Diego downs his nutmeg coffee – a pure abomination, in your opinion – and frowns too: “You didn’t bring the nutmeg.”

“’ Course I didn’t.” You look taken aback, deeply offended, “I don’t want anything to ruin the coffee!”

“So, who did? And nutmeg coffee is brilliant. Chef kiss to whoever came up with this idea.” Diego looks pointedly at you making your second cup of coffee with milk and sugar and no nutmeg, “Milk ruins coffee, honey.”

You make a gasted expression at his mug, clutching yours tightly to warm your numb fingers. It is too early to be called winter, but the morning wind did a number of things that are close to getting your hand frost-bite. You have never been so grateful that your ugly university-issued mug conducts heat faster than the metal handles of almost every door on the campus.

“So … who brought the nutmeg. That’s the question.” Your gaze floats between the small bowl of nutmeg and Diego, the latter one shrugs again.

“I did.” Professor Castillo, Head of Pharmacology, clicks her heels on the ground at the door, “Kindly advise you both against occupying this break room because we have a potential donor who would be coming in …” She raises her wrists to take a look at her iWatch, “Fifteen minutes.”

You and Diego exchange a look.

Diego mouths, “Money’s on the lab rat nests.”

You chew on your lower lip from smiling too hard.

“Don’t you have a TA session in ten, Mr. Martinez?” Professor Castillo purses her perfectly lined lips, her eyes narrowing like a sharp dagger, her hair in a ponytail, soft and smooth, and not a single hair out of place like a conditioner commercial, “You know how the faculty views tardiness for undergrad courses.”

“Yes, Professor Castillo.” Diego dumps his mug into the sink and flees the scene.

“I have … my rats to attend to.” Bullshit because all your rats died yesterday. Your research is a total bust. You need a few new ones, that’s for sure. But it’s a good enough reason for you to escape the piercing look from Castillo.

“One second -” She stops you by the door.

“Uh, yes, Professor?”

She examines you with her disapproving look, from head to toe.

Lab coat, check. Jeans, check. White sneakers, check. Bright orange sweater with crimson ketchup stain, check.

You button your lab coat with flames flaring your cheeks, hoping that this will cover the stain. It must have gone up there when you had your breakfast earlier this morning.

“Never mind.” Professor Castillo huffs with her slit nostrils, “Just a reminder to be more careful of laboratory regulations of no food and drink allowed. Off you go.”

You slip from her claws as if your sneakers turned into roller skates. Your heartbeat is in a frantic state from the breakroom to the shared lab where you and a few other grad students cohabit. The beating remains for a few minutes as you pick out new rats for your experiment.

From the transparent glass walls of your lab, you see that Professor Castillo storms out of the breakroom and swipes her keycard on her way out.

Your phone pings as you drug the rats with heroin.

Diego: Is it just me or the faculty seems empty today?

Diego: No one bothered to come to work besides phds?

**

Three hours of watching mice getting stoned and recording data passed. Then an hour lunch break. Then it’s your TA sessions for Biochem 101 and Introduction to Microbiology, which would last three hours and a half.

By the end of your TA session, Professor Castillo nearly blew up your phone with five missed calls and a very polite but restricted “Please call back, it’s urgent”.

“Professor Castillo? Sorry, my phone was silenced because I was -”

“Yes. Yes. Doesn’t matter.” Professor Castillo cuts through your explanation curtly, “Our donor wants to speak with you.”

“Now?” You pause a second to look at the clock at the far end of the wall, “I - I think I have a couple of minutes. I have another … thing … elsewhere, at six thirty.”

Castillo clears her throat over the phone, “Not now. Our donor wants to have dinner, with you.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t, my part-time doesn’t finish until nine.” Your throat tightens at her not-so-subtle command.

“I’m sorry too, but I’m afraid this donor is bigger than your part-time.” Castillo repeats coldly, “This is a chance you wouldn’t want to pass up.” She hesitates before giving away further, her tone grows softer, “He wants to contribute to your work. Your funding, more specifically. Think about your personal LC-MS, microdialysis probes.”

“But -”

“We’re talking about hundreds of thousands. And possibly much more to come if your research yields results.” Her voice sounds tempting, slow but seductive – not sexually, God forbid, “What I’m about to say is blunt, but please, think about your TA stipend.” Which is a very pathetic eight hundred dollars per month, as you and Professor Castillo are both aware of. “Times that by fifty. Our donor is thinking about investing forty grand. On you. On your PhD.”

Your own grant.

That sounds extremely tempting.

You can’t help but hold your breath. Forty grand. You don’t think you have ever seen that much money in real life. And such a grant isn’t for academic-only. It would certainly help your budget, and your finances.

“It’s a now or never chance,” Professor Castillo calls out your name softly on the other end of the phone, “Talk to our donor, tonight. Reschedule whatever you have in mind. Go have dinner with him. Talk about how much you love biology and pharmaceuticals. Being a PhD isn’t all about research, you know.” Her unspoken words linger in the air. It’s about connection, persuasion, and asking idiots with a suitcase of wads to fund your passion.

“Professor, I-”

“Oh,” She chuckles to the speaker, sounding more pleasant and friendly than she has ever been during the past year, “Yovanna is fine. Six thirty. A place called Jean-Georges, I’ll text you the address. Don’t be late.”

Your fist clenches and unclenches on the podium.

“Oh, and uh-” She pauses for a brief moment, “I was told that Jean-Georges is a high-end restaurant. Wear something nice.” Before quickly hanging up the phone.

You check the clock again, three minutes to six. Great.

With the ping of your phone, Professor Castillo – Yovanna texts you the address for Jean-Georges. Luckily, it’s about a ten-minute walk from your campus to the restaurant. Unluckily, it’s in the opposite direction of your apartment. There is simply no way for you to head home, change into something fancy – which is another problem because your wardrobe lacks anything that could be labeled as “high-end” – and head to that restaurant.

There is only one thing you can do now.

You call Diego.

***

You should be grateful that this donor guy gives you a chance to prove yourself.

You really should.

You tug the hem of your tight black dress in all discomfort, and can’t help but get a teeny tiny bit of annoyance in the back of your head.

As stated, you have two formal outfits for such occasions. One is a nice, cute, white shirt, and a black suit to go with it. Quick flashback, Diego did not find your dress pants. Which you were fairly sure that the pants were hanging just by the shirt. So, it left you with the only other option. Option number two, the tight black dress stuffed at the back of your closet. You once hoped that you would never use it again, but, well, here you are.

You are very grateful for Diego living right next door and being able to find your dinner outfit plus heels on such short notice and deliver it to you. It spared you a few minutes to apply lipstick – you really need to stop scraping its bottom with a toothpick and buy another one instead. You borrowed foundation and concealer from a girl in the lab down the hall. You are also thankful for her helping you with the concealer before you risked smudging the colored ointment over your black dress – the only thing that you could wear at this point. She also did your hair with a small comb that she carried with her make-up pouch at all times, taming it and styling it as much as she could.

She also wanted to help with your eyebrows, ready to pluck some of them off with a pair of tweezers before you gasped in horror and claimed that you had to leave.

Very nice of a girl. You think her name is Jessica.

Yet here you are, in front of the restaurant as the wind grows chilly by the minute.

“Do you have a reservation, Miss?” The waiter in a tux at the door asks with a smile.

“Under the name, Mr. Garcia, I think?” You take out your phone from your stark-white canvas bag. Yeah, you see the waiter subtly checking out your canvas bag. Not your fault that high heels hurt so much and you need to take them off and change them into sneakers the second you say goodbye to Mister Kind Sponsor.

The waiter checks the sheets of reservation in front of him, quickly finding the name “Garcia”, “Of course.” He gestures to another waiter in a tux, a taller and skinnier one, “Dave will lead you to your table. I hope you will enjoy our food.”

You smile back, following the other waiter’s lead.

Strong, blinding light emits from above your head. Thick, grey carpet underneath your soles. The restaurant is decorated in a neat black-and-white style. A woman wearing tight brown skims yoga pants brushes past you, having you somewhat relieved, as this place is not strictly dress-coded.

Gentle clicking of forks, knives, and plates, and glasses. Bare whispers of people talking. Not loud. Not rushed. Au contraire to the student’s cafeteria where you choose to spend your nine dollars and twenty-nine cents every Wednesday as a reward for your hard work.

Somewhere you don’t fit in. The realization hits you like a bus. Not the first time. But the most realistic one as you know the one guy you are about to pamper, the guy who simply has too much to spend on his yacht or villa or first-class tickets or privet jets, doesn’t belong in your ranks. Doesn’t belong in your world. And vice versa.

Just how would you be able to sweet talk him into investing in your research?

Dave leads you to the table without you even realizing it. Maybe it’s that you don’t recognize the man. Or maybe the fuzzy grey sweater and his brown leather jacket don’t really fit in like the rest of the men wearing tux and suits and ties.

Two misfits. You conclude in the depth of your own mind.

He stands from the table when Dave introduces the table set for the two of you.

“Mr. Garcia?” You pronounce your name loud and clear, extending a hand, “It’s very honored to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” He shakes your hand firmly, telling the waiter to circle back with two menus before turning his attention back to you, “Please, have a seat.”

Grey curls adorn his forehead, capturing your attention first. Then it’s his toned skin, a shade tanner than most who occupy the higher-up positions in your life. A light stubble covers the lower half of his face. Although you are no expert, you realize it’s trimmed with delicacy. When he smiles at you, there are wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Here are the menus.” Dave brings two thick leather-bound books back and hands you each one, “Would you like to order now or … ?”

He leans over before Dave can finish, kindly smiling, “It’s okay if you need a few minutes to go over the menu.”

You open the leather-bound book – it contains two pages. One page of the cuisines under the name “Autumn”, as a fixed set for each and every guest, and another page filled with beverages and wines and cocktails.

There’s literally nothing you need to go over with. Besides the drink.

“I’ll just have the Autumn set.”

“Same.” The charming man on the opposite side of the table pipes up after you.

“And the drinks?” Dave continues in his uneventful tone.

“A little bit of alcohol, if that’s alright with you?” He checks with you, “It’s okay if you want something alcohol-free.”

Who are you to say no when your donor wants to have a drink with you?

You chew on your lower lip as a slight hesitation takes over, before realizing his intense gaze on you. “I’d love to have a bit of alcohol, but I don’t know much about wine. You can do the honors and help me order one, perhaps?”

A toothy grin reveals his sharper canines. He seems taken aback by your blunt confession over the subject of alcohol, yet he shows no signs of annoyance or impatience.

He turns to ask the waiter Dave, “What can you recommend for Champagne?”

“Bollinger for the more traditional flavor and richness. Or Moet for light and fruitful. We now have a bottle of Bollinger Special Cuvée, the flagship champagne of Bollinger which I highly recommend.”

Mr. Garcia nods. “Then we’ll have the flagship one. Thanks.”

Dave collects your menus and exits quickly.

Santiago Garcia folds his arms over the table, like a pupil eager to learn, cocking his head slightly, he asks, “I think I’ve heard a lot about you from your professors, but I’d like to hear it from you. What is your current research subject?”

This is a question that you get asked countless times. Even so, you can’t help but sweat a little. “I uh- ahem, I study pharmacology. My PhD research is Development of a Novel Therapeutic Drug Mimicking Endogenous Pain Modulators for Enhanced Pain Management in Addiction Rehabilitation. Basically, I’m aiming to develop a drug that would help individuals in rehab.”

“How so?” Santiago Garcia rests his chin on the back of his hand, “Forgive me for asking, I honestly don’t know a thing about pharmacology, how would this … therapeutic drug work?”

“Well,” a moment and you seem to have returned to the podium, lecturing the students on your ongoing research, “Most people do drugs again because of the pain-reducing component in the drugs. Think of it this way: your body contains muscles, bones, and ligaments. When your body is constantly in motion, like I need to pick up my fork.” You gesture by lifting your tableware, “Your bones and muscles create friction. But you won’t feel anything, as our body produces, well, mostly endorphins to counter the feeling of minor pain from within.”

Dave pours you both a glass of sparkly wine, but Mr. Garcia doesn’t reach for the glass, and neither do you. Though you both say “Thank you” to the waiter, interrupting the conversation briefly.

“As I was saying, when you start to do drugs, minor ones like marihuana or dangerous ones like Oxy, your body captures the signal that you have sufficient chemicals to reduce the small pains, and that it doesn’t have to produce endorphins for you anymore.”

“We have very stupid bodies.” Massaging his lower lip with his thumb, Santiago Garcia murmurs.

You shrug nonchalantly, “That’s one way of putting it. Anyway, when you stop doing drugs, your body has already shut its endorphin factory down, and that’s when you start to feel itches, pains, and discomfort all over your body. It is unbearable. To a lot of drug users, it’s not that they don’t want to quit, it’s because they can’t. Doing drugs again is the only way they don’t feel the pain anymore.”

Santiago nods, chiming in, “I think I’m getting the hang of it now. What you are doing, if I summarize it correctly, is mimic a drug similar to endorphin?”

“While also boosting our endorphin factory back to life – but yes, you get the gist. It should be a non-addictive version of painkillers that would allow doctors to gradually decrease the meds subscribed to these addicted patients until they could return to their full health. At least for their endorphin factory.”

Dave comes back with your entrées.

“That sounds …” He wrecks his brain for the right word, “quite impressive.”

Your cheeks warm up per his amazement. He sounds genuine. Unlike how your professors comment on every research as “very good” “interesting”, while in fact they just mean “This is a lot of bullshit and you need to do better” before marking each work with a B minus.

He proposes a toast by raising his glass, and you take up on that offer. The sound of glasses clicking has to be one of the most musical voices you have heard throughout the year.

As you progress from entrée to the main course, your inner curiosity is killing you, leading you to drop your question, “I am very thankful for the … dinner and your enthusiasm over biology, but can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why me?” You nervously add, “I’m not saying that I’m not a good choice. But why?”

He quirks his eyebrows, huffing a small laugh. “The short version is, I like your research.”

“And the long version …?”

Santiago Garcia washes down the food with a gulp of that golden sparkly wine. Leaning back in his seat, he responds, “Truth is, I worked for the Delta squad for over eight years, and I’ve been fighting drug lords ever since. That’s the eight-year-long version of it. If it helps with your question, I have also invested in a psychological research, a chemical one, and another one of social sciences, all related to drug abuse.” And I also have like forty million dollars I stole from the drug lord Lorea that I don’t know how to spend. So, it’s a hilarious way to spend some of that drug money, investing in research that would corrupt other drug lords’ business. He thinks to himself.

That is, in fact, very admirable. Both working for Delta Squad and now investing in such research that is beneficial to society.

“I am very much impressed, Mister Garcia.” A small smile perches up the corner of your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh, “I think we’re beyond that. Santiago – I go by Santiago.”

“Right, Santiago.” You will never forget that name anytime soon, considering the amount he is about to invest in you.

His lips briefly graze the surface of the champagne in his glass. This man, Santiago Garcia watches you while he takes a sip of his wine.

He clears his throat, putting down his wine glass, “I think we have a deal then,” he calls you by your first name, “fifty thousand for a year. Then two or more years, depending on your research outcome.”

Fifty thousand for a year.

Your breath hitches in your throat. That amount is probably more than the wage your parents could earn in five years.

Your tuition. Your personal lab equipment. Your soup cans and tuna cans with red 50% Off stickers at the back of your cabinet.

“Is this the wine talk?” You joke, to mask the tension at the back of your spine.

“No,” Santiago says in his gravel but surprisingly warm voice, his beautiful eyes with the color that reminds you of melting hazelnut chocolate lingering on your face. The look, the gaze, it was nothing repulsive. Nothing offensive. Nothing intrusive. “I’m very much sober.”

[thedarkcoven]

Santiago Pope Garcia "Thot"

Think this speaks for all of us <3 (Not my vid came across it and so much yes lmao)

[luxurychristmaspudding]

listen

summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were. 

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else. 

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly. 

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted. 

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features. 

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him. 

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after. 

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful. 

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi. 

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway. 

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it. 

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further. 

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar. 

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles. 

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman. 

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight. 

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out. 

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says. 

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’ 

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’ 

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

 - before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste. 

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it - 

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty. 

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising. 

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read. 

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’ 

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’ 

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder. 

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’ 

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’ 

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’ 

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks. 

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay. 

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door. 

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet. 

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out - 

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you. 

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

 - before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing. 

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left. 

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye. 

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly. 

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck. 

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting. 

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing. 

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away. 

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie. 

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off. 

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes. 

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park. 

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable. 

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together. 

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move. 

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week. 

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun. 

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is. 

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on. 

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point. 

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi. 

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call. 

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave. 

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives. 

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once. 

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it. 

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’ 

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something  which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers. 

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes. 

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him. 

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand. 

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire. 

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.��� You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him. 

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says. 

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear. 

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips. 

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out. 

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’ 

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good - 

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom. 

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him. 

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already. 

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both. 

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head. 

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets - 

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him. 

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’ 

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied. 

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say. 

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat. 

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest. 

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless. 

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before. 

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again. 

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’ 

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry. 

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out. 

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long. 

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea. 

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper. 

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours. 

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning. 

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards. 

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement. 

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’ 

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

[charnelhouse]

Drabbles/Requests

Most works are NSFW and contain smut. 18+ only

Din Djarin Drabble/Request Masterlist

Rick Flag Drabble/Request Masterlist

Thor Odinson Masterlist

Duncan Idaho/F!Reader:

In the Stillness of Remembering

he tastes like the old gods

Gifts

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Santiago Pope Garcia/F!Reader:

Hunt

Daddy

Vampire

Geralt of Rivia/F!Reader:

Eyes

Party

Eddie Brock/Venom/F!Reader:

Homecoming

A Drink

Scare Maze

Wedding

Stress-Relief

Madripoor

Bucky Barnes/F!Reader:

Protection

What Happens in Dublin

Don’t Freak Out

Charlie Hunnam Character Drabble/Request Masterlist

Other Pedro Pascal Characters:

darlin' (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Swan Song (Agent Whiskey x F!Reader)

Black Sheeps (Dave York x F!Reader)

Out of Sight (Thief!Pedro Pascal x F!Reader)

Other Characters:

my love is vengeance - (Battinson x F!Reader)

Sate - (Michael Myers x F!Reader)

Period  - (Michael Myers x F!Reader)

Girl Friend (Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader)

First Aid - (Franke Castle x F!Reader)

Bar Solutions - (Franke Castle x F!Reader)

Before - (Tom Redfly Davis x F!Reader)

Spider - (Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader)

God - (Billy Lee x F!Reader)

Belong (Yelena Belova & Reader, Bucky Barnes)

For Those You Love (Yelena Belova x F!Reader)

Stranded (Yelena x Harley Quinn x F!Reader)

Bar Daydream (Valkyrie x F!Reader. TF Poly Universe)

Tell Me (Valkyrie x F!Reader, Heimdall x Valkyrie)

Search (Loki x F!Reader)

Chainsaws and Parking Lots (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x F!Reader)

sugar pie, honey bunch - (Steve Kemp x F!Reader)

fix me up - (Tyler Rake x F!Reader)

Jake - (Hangman x Reader)

but you’re pretty when you’re mine (Daemon x Rhaenyra)

in the pit (Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra)

[leiakenobi]

main masterlist | oscar masterlist | AO3

Series

Letting The Days Go By (AO3)

“This Must Be The Place” | One-Shot | 6.7k words | Teen | F!Reader On your way to your annual vacation in a cozy cabin in the woods with a few friends from college, you get caught in a snowstorm. Resigned to wait it out, you pull off the highway when you spot a small road-side bar, where the kind but strangely secretive bartender immediately catches your notice.

“Once In A Lifetime” | One-Shot | 12.2k words | Explicit | F!Reader After circling around your attraction for hours, Santi brings you back home to wait out the snowstorm that brought you into his bar. Once there, you learn more about the lonely man who’s taken a liking to you and become increasingly aware of just what you’ll be missing if you walk away from him in the morning. 

Fanfics

“Cloudless Girl” | One-Shot | 1.2k words | Teen | F!Reader Your Latin American lit class becomes a bi-weekly effort to make Dr. Santiago Garcia’s eyes light up.

“Dead-Red” | One-Shot | 10.7k words | Explicit | F!Reader Sitting dead-red (verb): When a hitter is waiting for a fastball, receives it, and takes advantage of it in the hopes of a home run. (Santi/Frankie Morales/Reader)

“a little bit of tender” | One-Shot | 1.4k words | Explicit | F!Reader “Don’t you think Benny would look so pretty if we made him cry?” (Santi/Ben Miller/Reader)

“Love You For A Long Time” | Multi-Chapter | WIP | Mature | F!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (On Hiatus) At your fall parent/teacher conferences, you meet the father of a boy who’s been struggling to socialize with the other students in recent weeks. The two of you hit it off at once, but you find yourselves having to navigate your attraction around his son’s emotional conflict.

“noteworthy distraction” | One-Shot | 970 words | Teen | F!Reader You and Santiago attend Benny's wedding. Since he's part of the wedding party and you are not, you find yourselves separated for long parts of the event, but you find a way to make the most of it.

“Small Things” | One-Shot | 1.3k words | Teen | GN!Reader When you turn 20, you begin to dream from the perspective of your soulmate—a man in the military who you initially only know as “Pope.”

“too close to stars” | One-Shot | 1.8k words | Teen | F!Reader Santi is your sugar daddy, and you accidentally let on that you've fallen for him when you invite him to your kid's soccer game

“turn and come back down” | One-Shot | 1k words | Teen | GN!Reader When Santi realizes that you're a little caught up in your own head, he gently intervenes.

Prompts

Double date night

Fake relationship

Sprained ankle

Army museum

Friends to lovers

Drunk phone call

Headcanons and other asks

Strip club AU 

Roommates AU

The Mummy AU (Santiago Garcia/Frankie Morales/Reader)

[mrs-lockley]

are you kidding I would LOVE to hear your specific analysis of them

in which celeste attempts to justify her psychology degree by psychoanalyzing several óscar characters without context, judging solely on their appearance 

[cracks knuckles] alright here we go! the characters i judge are poe dameron, santiago garcia, jonathan (scenes from a marriage), evgeni kolpakov, nathan bateman, abel morales, and blue jones. all under the cut!

for reference, i have only seen triple frontier, a most violent year, sucker punch, and w.e. only one time. i haven’t seen deus ex machina.

poe dameron: looks straight out of a telenovela, a magazine, or a fairytale. with those perfectly tousled curls, 5 o’clock shadow, and infectious smile? he looks like prince charming, the kind of guy you would bring home to meet your parents. he looks like the kind of man who would not only buy you flowers, but your mother, your aunt, your sister, your grandmother! would most likely kiss your aunts on the cheeks in greeting to say hello, a complete charmer but with no malicious intent. not necessarily a flirt, but just someone who is very warm and welcoming and extraverted, has the personality of a puppy. definitely drinks his respect women juice. but may also have a soft, vulnerable side he has difficulty sharing, so he puts up an optimistic front. suffers in silence to not worry anyone. may also be stubborn to a fault but has good intentions. the epitome of the “wanna go out on a date with me where we can go stargazing? you don’t have to if you don’t want to ... unless ...?” 👀👉🏼👈🏼

santiago garcia: looks like one of those handsome bachelors you’ll run into the paint aisle of a home depot. you’ll be in the paint section looking through samples while he’s staring at different samples, more so overwhelmed by wanting to find a good choice of paint for the new house he bought. you see him struggling so you say “behr is a great paint brand” and he sighs in relief. he seems quiet, maybe a little broody, but tries to handle things himself. probably doesn’t like sitting still for too long, likes handiwork, like changing the oil in his car, fixing your sink, most likely the kind of guy who would be a neighbor you’d call if your toilet is clogged and you can’t fix it. seems approachable, but reserved and quiet. could be a flirt, but tends to keep to himself. looks like an average guy, well-groomed, definitely respectable. will probably take a while to break him out of his shell, but a gentleman 

jonathan (scenes from a marriage): pretentious college professor who probably likes dark academia. quotes marx on the daily, would smoke a cigar if he had the chance but opts for cigarettes instead. not necessarily an alcoholic, but def has issues. not the kind of man you’d bring home to your parents. might not be the best man to have a relationship with, but would probably be a one night stand or fwb situation. doesn’t like commitment for various reasons, possible relationship trauma or some kind of trust issues. not necessarily a misogynist, but he isn’t gentle. probably has angry outbursts now and then, needs to see a therapist. but he knows he’s handsome and tries to find meaning and whatnot, just has a tendency to go about it the wrong way. lowkey a fuckboy

evgeni kolpakov: quiet, sweet man. keeps to himself, but observant and perceptive. classy but in a lowkey way. he doesn’t indulge in the finest suits and tuxedos, but he does keep himself well-groomed and puts an effort in getting ready. makes the simple things look elegant and classic. probably drinks wine and champagne, not really a beer fan but would go to a dive bar now and then to meet with friends. would indulge in some silk sheets if he has a chance. likes things steamy and sensual in a casual, muted, and subtle way. probably reads poetry like pablo neruda in his spare time but doesn’t boast about his intellect. both street and book smart, but keeps quiet so people are pleasantly surprised when he displays both. probably would own a cat if he had the chance. epitome of gentleman in the streets, freak in the sheets

abel morales: looks like a freaking sugar daddy, may or may not be. likes the finer things in life and isn’t afraid to indulge. probably would call an escort for some nights when he has to go to a party because he’s lonely. seems gentle and sweet, but there’s a storm brewing behind those eyes that are waiting to erupt. cold anger. likes drinking wine, doesn’t smoke but if pushed and stressed, he might once in a while. just wants peace and quiet, is always in some kind of moral dilemma. haunted by a past or consequences of a future. always feels the need to put up a front, may have a hard time being vulnerable. might be open to romantic relationships, but unsure of himself. not necessarily insecure about himself, but unsure of what women might expect out of him and fears he might not deliver. 

nathan bateman: narcissus in the flesh. probably one of those gym rats who likes to work out and shows off to the ladies in the gym. might catcall, but does it in a subtle way. lowkey a fuckboy, but not a villain. selfish but not cruel. looks out for himself but isn’t out to hurt people either. probably not into hurting other people if it’s at his own gain (to an extent), outweighs the pros and cons. may problematically objectify people as an attempt to flirt and make conversation and give a compliment but backfires. probably one of those loud nerdboys at conventions who boasts about his knowledge, can be annoying but not malicious. probably lonely and depressed and wants validation.

blue jones: gomez addams wannabe. owns a drawer full of different eyeliners, but prefers pencil for that grunge smudge from the 90s. emo and goth. probably listens to evanescence late at night and unashamedly loves bring me to life. has a lot of issues he needs to deal with. another fuckboy, but tries to hide it. likes the finer things in life but wants to maintain an image of power. highkey insecure, inferiority complex. smokes cigarette in a fancy holder. listens to jazz on a record player, exclusively wears suits and would rather die than be seen in jeans and a t-shirt. NOT THE MAN YOU BRING HOME TO YOUR PARENTS. if you fall in love with him, your anthem would be criminal by brittney spears. 

[pintsizemama]

WIP List

In Progress

Long Series

Javier Peña x OFC

Din Djarin x Bounty OFC

Dave York x Nanny OFC

Frankie Morales x Delta Force OFC

Oberyn Martell x Baratheon/Lannister OFC

Omar Assarian x OFC

Marcus Pike x OFC Criminal Minds Crossover

Agent Whiskey x Kingsman Agent OFC

Din Djarin x OFC- Biker AU

Javier Peña x OFC- Narco!Javi AU

Din Djarin x OFC- Mobster Hitman/Bodyguard AU

Mini Series

Jay Castillo x OFC- best friends to lovers

Max Phillips x OFC

Marcus Moreno x OFC- A/B/O AU

One Shot

Omar Assarian x OFC Sex Pollen

Oberyn Martell x Baratheon/Lannister OFC- Public Sex

Planning Stage

Long Series

Pero Tovar x Mercenary OFC

Maxwell Lord x Secretary OFC

Mini Series

Agent Whiskey x Midsize F!Reader

Nathan Landry x Stripper OFC

Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia x Benny Miller x Will Miller x Delta Force OFC Polyamorous Fic

Zach Wellison x OFC

Veracruz x OFC Undercover AU

Maxwell Lord Sugar Daddy Fic

Javier Peña Sugar Daddy Fic

One Shot

Javier Peña x Reader Angst (Inspired by Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi)

Ideas to plan

Long Series

Oberyn Martell Modern AU

Din Djarin Western AU

Agent Whiskey Futuristic AU

Pero Tovar Time Travel AU

Mini Series

Din Djarin x Boba Fett x Paz Vizsla x Bounty OFC

One Shot

Agent Whiskey x Reader Angst (dead wife angst)

[ao3feed-destiel]

Multifandom One Shots

Read it on AO3 here!https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

by GerardDunbar

Pedidos abiertos de one shots gay de diferentes series

Words: 1793, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Español

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Big Time Rush (TV), American Horror Story, Riverdale (TV 2017), Descendants (Disney Movies), Glee, Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Movies), Shadowhunters (TV), Scream Queens (TV 2015), Supernatural, Pretty Little Liars, Grimm (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Fangs Fogarty, Kevin Keller, Ryder Lynn, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Chuck Clayton, Kai Anderson, Chad Radwell, Boone Clemens, James Diamond, Jett Stetson, Dak Zevon, James Patrick March, Jack Samuels, Harrison Wilton, Trevor Kirchner, Xavier Plympton, Chet Clancy, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Donovan (American Horror Story), Tristan Duffy, Kendall Knight, Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush), Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis, Tate Langdon, Ben Harmon, Patrick (American Horror Story), Will Schuester, Rory Flanagan, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Dustin Goolsby, Bryan Ryan, David Martinez, Mike Chang, Ezra Fitz, Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Blaine Anderson, Moose Mason, Reggie Mantle, Mr. Gallant (American Horror Story), Dandy Mott

Relationships: Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, James Diamond/Kendall Knight, Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell, James Diamond/Carlos Garcia, Carlos Garcia/Kendall Knight, James Diamond/Logan Mitchell, Logan Mitchell/Dak Zevon, Jett Stetson/Dak Zevon, James Diamond/Dak Zevon, Kendall Knight/Jett Stetson, James Diamond/Jett Stetson, Jay/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Jay (Disney: Descendants), Ben/Harry Hook, Ben/Gil/Jay/Harry Hook/Carlos de Vil, Harry Hook/Jay, Fangs Fogarty/Kevin Keller, Fangs Fogarty/Sweet Pea, Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Archie Andrews/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Evans/Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington/Sebastian Smythe, Finn Hudson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman, Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans, Sam Evans/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans/Rory Flanagan, Rory Flanagan/Finn Hudson, Rory Flanagan/Noah Puckerman, Ryder Lynn/Jake Puckerman, Mason McCarthy/Spencer Porter, Bryan Ryan/Will Schuester, Dustin Goolsby/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Dustin Goolsby, Dustin Goolsby/Will Schuester, Mike Chang/Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang/Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman/Will Schuester, david martinez/bryan ryan/will schuester/carl, Finn Hudson/Sebastian Smythe, Noah Puckerman/Sebastian Smythe, Scott Lang/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Thor, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson, Ben Harmon/Tate Langdon, Tate Langdon/Patrick, Ben Harmon/Vivien Harmon, Ezra Fitz/Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh/Noel Kahn, Boone Clemens/Chad Radwell, pete martinez/chad radwell, Kai Anderson/Jack Samuels/Harrison Wilton, Kai Anderson/RJ, Tate Langdon/Dandy Mott, Chet Clancy/Xavier Plympton, trevor kirchner/xavier plympton, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle/Moose Mason, Nick Burkhardt/Hank Griffin, nick burkhardt/prince kenneth, Donovan/James Patrick March, Tristan Duffy/James Patrick March, rudolf valentino/donovan, John Lowe/Tate Langdon, Mr. Gallant/Michael Langdon, mr. gallant/timmoty, chad radwell/roger, boone clemens/dodger, Jimmy Darling/Dandy Mott

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, American Horror Story - Freeform, Hotel Sex, Forest Sex, Car Sex, Dildos, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Threesome - M/M/M, Professors, Sugar Daddy, school sex

Link: https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

[jamneuromain]

Addictive

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x PhD Candidate!Reader (You)

Warning: Sugar Daddy!Santiago Garcia, Implied age gap (Santiago is in his late 30s, reader in her mid-20s), Mention of a near-death experience ... fluff, eventual smut but we'll see about that (and more tags to come)

Summary: The start of an unconventional sugar relationship.

A/N: I solemnly blame @innorogers for indulging me with sugar daddy!Santiago Gargia thoughts. Thank you 太太 you're the best. Mwah😘

Prologue

"What are you going to do with your share?"

>

"So, what are you going to do with your share?"

It is a question that has come up way too many times in their time spent together. They discussed the possibility of being rich in that shabby pub during the humid and sticky night before the heist. They talked about it again, after the heist, when they nearly lost Redfly on the mountain ridge, nerves on edge with two hundred million on their backs. They ended up splitting the stolen money five ways. Each gets a share, which is forty million US dollars: Tom "Redfly" Davis, William "Ironhead" Miller, Ben Miller, Francisco "Catfish" Morales, and of course, last but not least, himself, Santiago "Pope" Garcia.

Ben got the Ferrari he always wanted. Tom deposited a quarter of his money into the college fund for his girls. William was finally rid of the horrific job of giving the same speech to uniformed men and women, now investing in a gun range. Francisco spends a couple of hours a day in some aviation club, working as a coach. He owns the entire hanger and all the iron birds inside.

Santiago ... Santiago hasn't done anything with his money apart from getting a flat and buying a new car.

So, the question now is specifically targeting him. Now that the five men are watching football from the latest model of a flat-screen TV in Tom's living room.

"What are you going to do with your share, huh Santi?" Frankie repeats with a shit-eating grin.

"Dunno." Santiago takes a sip of his beer, avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of his four closest friends, smoothing his gray strands with his other hand, "I'll figure something out. But enough of me, I heard your Tess wanted to be a doctor?"

There's only one of them who has a family: Tom.

Tom was two inches away from getting shot in the forehead up on the Andes.

Tom chuckles, "That's my bright girl, alright. Takes up after her mom, thank the Lord. Still, the tuition for Pre-med is a bitch. Speaking of, could you pick her up from her AP tutoring at five thirty? It's in a studio near the real estate agency I used to work for. I had other plans for Molly at six."

Ben whistles after one too many beers, "Getting your wife back, nice."

William punches his younger brother Ben in the shoulder.

Tom shakes his head with a small smile, "Can't keep my hopes up though. But Tess - you can pick her up for me, right?" He turns to Santiago for confirmation.

"Sure, bud." Santiago clicks his beer bottle with his former team captain.

Approximately two hours later, you catches his eye when Santiago drives to the tutoring studio to pick up Tess. A pencil in your ear, a load of books in your arms. Your cuffs faded into a lighter shade than the outfit, one of your sleeves resewn, tighter and shorter compared to the other one, the side of your hand smudged in pencil dust, waving Tess goodbye.

"Hey, Uncle Santiago!" Tess pipes up, sliding into the front seat of his sleek black sedan.

"Hey, Tess. Who's that?" Santiago lifts his chin at the girl - you - at the bus stop.

"Oh! That's my tutor for AP Chemistry. She works for this tutoring studio but she's actually a brilliant grad student in the Med School. It's her second year in the PhD program. She works on this really cool project called ..."

As the young teen's voice fades into the background, Santiago pulls his car out from the parking lot. The question that has been haunting him ever since the planning of the heist pops into his mind.

Yeah. He thinks to himself. I'll figure something out.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

[ao3feed-kurthummel]

Multifandom One Shots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

by GerardDunbar

Pedidos abiertos de one shots gay de diferentes series

Words: 1793, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Español

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Big Time Rush (TV), American Horror Story, Riverdale (TV 2017), Descendants (Disney Movies), Glee, Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Movies), Shadowhunters (TV), Scream Queens (TV 2015), Supernatural, Pretty Little Liars, Grimm (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Fangs Fogarty, Kevin Keller, Ryder Lynn, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Chuck Clayton, Kai Anderson, Chad Radwell, Boone Clemens, James Diamond, Jett Stetson, Dak Zevon, James Patrick March, Jack Samuels, Harrison Wilton, Trevor Kirchner, Xavier Plympton, Chet Clancy, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Donovan (American Horror Story), Tristan Duffy, Kendall Knight, Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush), Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis, Tate Langdon, Ben Harmon, Patrick (American Horror Story), Will Schuester, Rory Flanagan, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Dustin Goolsby, Bryan Ryan, David Martinez, Mike Chang, Ezra Fitz, Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Blaine Anderson, Moose Mason, Reggie Mantle, Mr. Gallant (American Horror Story), Dandy Mott

Relationships: Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, James Diamond/Kendall Knight, Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell, James Diamond/Carlos Garcia, Carlos Garcia/Kendall Knight, James Diamond/Logan Mitchell, Logan Mitchell/Dak Zevon, Jett Stetson/Dak Zevon, James Diamond/Dak Zevon, Kendall Knight/Jett Stetson, James Diamond/Jett Stetson, Jay/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Jay (Disney: Descendants), Ben/Harry Hook, Ben/Gil/Jay/Harry Hook/Carlos de Vil, Harry Hook/Jay, Fangs Fogarty/Kevin Keller, Fangs Fogarty/Sweet Pea, Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Archie Andrews/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Evans/Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington/Sebastian Smythe, Finn Hudson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman, Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans, Sam Evans/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans/Rory Flanagan, Rory Flanagan/Finn Hudson, Rory Flanagan/Noah Puckerman, Ryder Lynn/Jake Puckerman, Mason McCarthy/Spencer Porter, Bryan Ryan/Will Schuester, Dustin Goolsby/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Dustin Goolsby, Dustin Goolsby/Will Schuester, Mike Chang/Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang/Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman/Will Schuester, david martinez/bryan ryan/will schuester/carl, Finn Hudson/Sebastian Smythe, Noah Puckerman/Sebastian Smythe, Scott Lang/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Thor, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson, Ben Harmon/Tate Langdon, Tate Langdon/Patrick, Ben Harmon/Vivien Harmon, Ezra Fitz/Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh/Noel Kahn, Boone Clemens/Chad Radwell, pete martinez/chad radwell, Kai Anderson/Jack Samuels/Harrison Wilton, Kai Anderson/RJ, Tate Langdon/Dandy Mott, Chet Clancy/Xavier Plympton, trevor kirchner/xavier plympton, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle/Moose Mason, Nick Burkhardt/Hank Griffin, nick burkhardt/prince kenneth, Donovan/James Patrick March, Tristan Duffy/James Patrick March, rudolf valentino/donovan, John Lowe/Tate Langdon, Mr. Gallant/Michael Langdon, mr. gallant/timmoty, chad radwell/roger, boone clemens/dodger, Jimmy Darling/Dandy Mott

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, American Horror Story - Freeform, Hotel Sex, Forest Sex, Car Sex, Dildos, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Threesome - M/M/M, Professors, Sugar Daddy, school sex

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Kurt Hummel tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Kurt is the main character in the story. There is also no judgment made as to ships, length, or warnings. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

[ao3feed-puckurt]

Multifandom One Shots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

by GerardDunbar

Pedidos abiertos de one shots gay de diferentes series

Words: 1793, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Español

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Big Time Rush (TV), American Horror Story, Riverdale (TV 2017), Descendants (Disney Movies), Glee, Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Movies), Shadowhunters (TV), Scream Queens (TV 2015), Supernatural, Pretty Little Liars, Grimm (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Fangs Fogarty, Kevin Keller, Ryder Lynn, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Chuck Clayton, Kai Anderson, Chad Radwell, Boone Clemens, James Diamond, Jett Stetson, Dak Zevon, James Patrick March, Jack Samuels, Harrison Wilton, Trevor Kirchner, Xavier Plympton, Chet Clancy, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Donovan (American Horror Story), Tristan Duffy, Kendall Knight, Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush), Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis, Tate Langdon, Ben Harmon, Patrick (American Horror Story), Will Schuester, Rory Flanagan, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Dustin Goolsby, Bryan Ryan, David Martinez, Mike Chang, Ezra Fitz, Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Blaine Anderson, Moose Mason, Reggie Mantle, Mr. Gallant (American Horror Story), Dandy Mott

Relationships: Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, James Diamond/Kendall Knight, Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell, James Diamond/Carlos Garcia, Carlos Garcia/Kendall Knight, James Diamond/Logan Mitchell, Logan Mitchell/Dak Zevon, Jett Stetson/Dak Zevon, James Diamond/Dak Zevon, Kendall Knight/Jett Stetson, James Diamond/Jett Stetson, Jay/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Jay (Disney: Descendants), Ben/Harry Hook, Ben/Gil/Jay/Harry Hook/Carlos de Vil, Harry Hook/Jay, Fangs Fogarty/Kevin Keller, Fangs Fogarty/Sweet Pea, Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Archie Andrews/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Evans/Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington/Sebastian Smythe, Finn Hudson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman, Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans, Sam Evans/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans/Rory Flanagan, Rory Flanagan/Finn Hudson, Rory Flanagan/Noah Puckerman, Ryder Lynn/Jake Puckerman, Mason McCarthy/Spencer Porter, Bryan Ryan/Will Schuester, Dustin Goolsby/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Dustin Goolsby, Dustin Goolsby/Will Schuester, Mike Chang/Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang/Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman/Will Schuester, david martinez/bryan ryan/will schuester/carl, Finn Hudson/Sebastian Smythe, Noah Puckerman/Sebastian Smythe, Scott Lang/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Thor, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson, Ben Harmon/Tate Langdon, Tate Langdon/Patrick, Ben Harmon/Vivien Harmon, Ezra Fitz/Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh/Noel Kahn, Boone Clemens/Chad Radwell, pete martinez/chad radwell, Kai Anderson/Jack Samuels/Harrison Wilton, Kai Anderson/RJ, Tate Langdon/Dandy Mott, Chet Clancy/Xavier Plympton, trevor kirchner/xavier plympton, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle/Moose Mason, Nick Burkhardt/Hank Griffin, nick burkhardt/prince kenneth, Donovan/James Patrick March, Tristan Duffy/James Patrick March, rudolf valentino/donovan, John Lowe/Tate Langdon, Mr. Gallant/Michael Langdon, mr. gallant/timmoty, chad radwell/roger, boone clemens/dodger, Jimmy Darling/Dandy Mott

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, American Horror Story - Freeform, Hotel Sex, Forest Sex, Car Sex, Dildos, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Threesome - M/M/M, Professors, Sugar Daddy, school sex

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

[canadianfangirl-95]

Sugar Daddy Triple Frontier Men x f reader

OK my brain has been putting in the work since the response of my stoned post the other day in which I called the guys sugar daddies and now I’m committed!

AU no Tom, so the helicopter never crashes and they make off with a cool $25 million each.

These will be female reader point of view, 18+ containing smut, alcohol, violence, etc.

Francisco Morales: Posted May 15

Benny Miller: Chapter 1 Posted June 3 + Chapter 2 Posted June 5 + Final Chapter Posted June 20

William Miller: Posted September 27

Santiago Garcia

Follow along if you want to be a swooned by these rich and oh so handsome men!

[booksfriendsnews]

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[fyrapartnersearch]

Roleplay ad!!

Hey, guys! Name's Rhys, twenty one years old, and living in the CT. Currently, I am looking for both fandom and original roleplays-- I do want to mention beforehand, I don't want to be the one upholding the creation of story development. For the past few years, I've been forced into this, and I am especially burned out with having to deal with it all by myself. I need teamwork, cooperation, or a partnership won't work out, sorry. I do third person, past/present tense, and paragraph form. Semi-lit, please be prepared to do more than just a few sentences. Four-five paragraphs preferred, but I totally understand if the situation just calls for shorter responses, but not all of the time. The link right below this is a doc to some of my writing samples. Feel free to check them out! https://docs.google.com/document/d/18n3iuj4m9X1hBo9P2IezrKdTfkTrSKt0H34ZP6v3hHs I do m/m, f/f, m/f, f/m, any relationships; trans/nb, trans/cis, nb/cis, etc. I welcome all the LGBT, as I am of the queer community myself! Email or google docs only, please. LIMITS ------ -No unrealistic stereotypes of queer relationships, please. Yaoi, yuri, seme/uke, etc. Can't do that. Characters need to both have versatile roles; switching, so it's fair for everyone. Though, my characters do tend to be a lot more dominating! {{Very welcoming of BDSM, dom/sub, but this does not mean someone needs to be penetrated every single time in order for the dom to dominate. Get it? This can also apply to heterosexual relationships. I would literally love to see female characters who top, if you know what I mean. It's a pretty common thing, but not many people here seem down with it lol}} -Furries; blegh, no thanks. Beastiality, nekos, anything of sexual animal-related nature is a no-go, fam. -Vore, scat, bathroom stuff, pedophilia. You know the drill! ((I am not opposed to consensual, legal age and non-reproducing incestuous relationships in FICTION! Sex is fine, just no children resulting from it. Reminder; this is fictional.)) Okay, so despite those few limits, I am actually pretty welcoming of anything else. Smut, of course. Some kink a little out there that you want to suggest? Let's do it, dude. I am open to polyamorous relationships, any queer shit you're willing to throw at me lmao I am super OOC friendly and I am pretty much a garbled mess when I get to know you! I am open to crooked relationships, ones that don't function right, fluff and all cuteness, unconditional love-- my interests fluctuate! I am down, 24/7, guys! Here's a list of fandoms and pairings below. ------ ***=Craving Borderlands -Handsome Jack/Rhys*** -Handsome Jack/Rhys/Nisha*** -Rhys/Axton -Handsome Jack/Nisha*** -Fiona/Athena -Fiona/Vaughn -Rhys/Vaughn Until Dawn -Josh Washington/Chris -Chris/Mike -Jess/Mike -Sam/Beth -Matt/Jess -Emily/Matt/Jess Life is Strange -Max Caulfield/Chloe Price -Max Caulfield/Kate Marsh/Victoria Chase -Nathan Prescott/Warren Graham*** -Rachel Amber/Chloe Price*** -Rachel Amber/Frank Bowers DC -Dick Grayson/Jason Todd*** -Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson -Dick Grayson/Koriand'er -Dick Grayson/Wally West*** -Oliver Queen/Dinah Lance -Harley Quinn/Pamela Isley -Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent -Diana Prince/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Marvel -Steve Rogers/Tony Stark -Tony Stark/Bruce Banner -Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes -Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson -Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff -Peter Parker/Harry Osborn*** -Peter Parker/Wade Wilson -Gwen Stacy/Peter Parker/Harry Osborn Uncharted -Nathan Drake/Samuel Drake -Nathan Drake/Harry Flynn*** -Chloe Frazer/Nadine Ross -Samuel Drake/Rafe Adler*** Game of Thrones -Arya Stark/Gendry Waters -Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell -Daenerys Targaryen/Jon Snow TTGOT -Asher Forrester/Gwyn Whitehill -Rodrik Forrester/Arthur Glenmore*** -Mira Forrester/Margaery Tyrell -Gared Tuttle/Finn -Gared Tuttle/Josera Snow The Walking Dead -Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh -Rick Grimes/Negan*** -Daryl Dixon/Paul “Jesus” Rovia -Luke/Nick -Javier Garcia/David Garcia*** -Clementine/Gabriel Garcia*** The Mortal Instruments -Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago -Simon Lewis/Jace Lightwood*** -Isabelle Lightwood/Lydia Branwell -Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane Be More Chill -Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell*** -Chloe Valentine/Brooke Lohst -Jake Dillinger/Rich Goranski Dear Evan Hansen -Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy*** Infamous: Second Son -Delsin Rowe/Reggie Rowe -Delsin Rowe/Eugene Sims -Delsin Rowe/Hank Daughtry Steven Universe -OC/OC verse welcome! Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator -Anyone/your dadsona (for the love of god someone give me a good, not cliche john doe dadsona and you will win my heart!! I just want to play a dad lol bring me some great ass ocs) Heathers -Kurt Kelly/Ram Sweeney -Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer -Veronica Sawyer/Jason “JD” Dean - Some basic ideas that I do have pretty big doc ideas for; -The Last of Us inspired, using the general plot of the game. -Literally anything zombie-apocalypse inspired -Sugar daddy or mommy/Sugar baby*** -Big shot CEO/Rookie -Gladiator/Royal heir -Criminal/Law enforcer -Hero/Villain, Hero/Anti-hero, etc. -Jock/Nerd (this trope is my shit omg) -Medieval families, arranged marriages -Extrovert/Introvert*** -One night stands turned into something more -Childhood sweethearts -Supernatural; demon/spirit, demon/hunter, demon/human, angel/human, angel/demon -Best friends turned lovers -A few marine biologists go to an island off the coast to study the marine life there, which in turn, turns out to be something much bigger. ((Loosely based mermaid plot, can go into much bigger detail!))*** -Super expansive GOT-like fantasy plot with backgrounds, continents, etc. -Rivaling supernatural gangs (say, werewolf packs or vampire clans) -Soul mates; it can be like some of those AU’s where you don’t see color until you meet them, your tattooed timer counts down until then, or maybe even soul mates continuously reincarnating and one of the two has killed them for centuries in order to be “immortal”. For the first time, the victimized partner gets close enough that the other begins to fall and they start aging, together. -Young person (A) inherits an old mansion in a rural town from an unknown relative. A finds that the town is off-- people are starting to disappear, and no bodies are being found. A discovers their relative was hunting the “beast” by all of the information piled up in the attic and salt smeared in the cracks of the floors. B is a disguised demon in the small population-- they initially intended to get rid of A’s relative in fear of being exposed.. but it turns out, there is a much bigger threat than B or any of the other inconspicuous supernaturals among the town--- a monster is coming, and with it, a potential end to the world as they know it. Will B and A team up together? Can A look past B’s true evils, and can B learn to help a descendant of the infamous ‘monster’ hunters? -A doesn’t have any memories of their life, only being conscious and staring down at a mutilated body in a ditch. When they meet B, they learn why; welcome to limbo, they say. You just died. A has unfinished business; finding out who murdered them, why, and what else is holding them here. B is a reaper intent on helping lost souls pass over-- they were never born, and A shows them the delights of life before it’s taken. B learns to love A, and A doesn’t want to leave limbo. While A’s soul is clinging between realities, B must make a pivotal decision; squeezing tight on the concept of love, and letting A go. (BONUS!! REINCARNATION; A & B ARE GIVEN THE GIFT OF LIVING AGAIN, TOGETHER.) -Coming of age story between two childhood friends who are separated by circumstance, and after ten years, reunite and learn that your first love doesn’t have to be the one that got away. -Two friends drop their whole lives to go on a road trip once they turn thirty-- they elope together, leaving their unhappy lives behind them and in this grand scheme of mental breakdowns and tearful smiles, they find that love may be the only cure to a broken existence. ..and many more!! Thanks so much! If you've read through, please contact me at dotiscat@gmail.com and mention kiwi somewhere in your email. n_n Rhys xoxo

[leiakenobi]

Title: too close to stars Fandom: Triple Frontier (2019) Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia/Reader Rating: Teen (for oblique references to sex and prostitution) Summary: Santi is your sugar daddy, and you accidentally let on that you've fallen for him when you invite him to your kid's soccer game. A/N: I said in my discord server that Oscar in this picture looks like a sugar daddy, and then this fic happened. Please enjoy!

Read it here!

[ao3feed-blam]

Multifandom One Shots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr

by GerardDunbar

Pedidos abiertos de one shots gay de diferentes series

Words: 1793, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Español

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Big Time Rush (TV), American Horror Story, Riverdale (TV 2017), Descendants (Disney Movies), Glee, Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Movies), Shadowhunters (TV), Scream Queens (TV 2015), Supernatural, Pretty Little Liars, Grimm (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Fangs Fogarty, Kevin Keller, Ryder Lynn, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Chuck Clayton, Kai Anderson, Chad Radwell, Boone Clemens, James Diamond, Jett Stetson, Dak Zevon, James Patrick March, Jack Samuels, Harrison Wilton, Trevor Kirchner, Xavier Plympton, Chet Clancy, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Donovan (American Horror Story), Tristan Duffy, Kendall Knight, Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush), Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis, Tate Langdon, Ben Harmon, Patrick (American Horror Story), Will Schuester, Rory Flanagan, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Dustin Goolsby, Bryan Ryan, David Martinez, Mike Chang, Ezra Fitz, Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Blaine Anderson, Moose Mason, Reggie Mantle, Mr. Gallant (American Horror Story), Dandy Mott

Relationships: Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, James Diamond/Kendall Knight, Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell, James Diamond/Carlos Garcia, Carlos Garcia/Kendall Knight, James Diamond/Logan Mitchell, Logan Mitchell/Dak Zevon, Jett Stetson/Dak Zevon, James Diamond/Dak Zevon, Kendall Knight/Jett Stetson, James Diamond/Jett Stetson, Jay/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Jay (Disney: Descendants), Ben/Harry Hook, Ben/Gil/Jay/Harry Hook/Carlos de Vil, Harry Hook/Jay, Fangs Fogarty/Kevin Keller, Fangs Fogarty/Sweet Pea, Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Archie Andrews/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Evans/Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington/Sebastian Smythe, Finn Hudson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman, Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans, Sam Evans/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans/Rory Flanagan, Rory Flanagan/Finn Hudson, Rory Flanagan/Noah Puckerman, Ryder Lynn/Jake Puckerman, Mason McCarthy/Spencer Porter, Bryan Ryan/Will Schuester, Dustin Goolsby/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Dustin Goolsby, Dustin Goolsby/Will Schuester, Mike Chang/Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang/Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman/Will Schuester, david martinez/bryan ryan/will schuester/carl, Finn Hudson/Sebastian Smythe, Noah Puckerman/Sebastian Smythe, Scott Lang/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Thor, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson, Ben Harmon/Tate Langdon, Tate Langdon/Patrick, Ben Harmon/Vivien Harmon, Ezra Fitz/Mike Montgomery, Toby Cavanaugh/Noel Kahn, Boone Clemens/Chad Radwell, pete martinez/chad radwell, Kai Anderson/Jack Samuels/Harrison Wilton, Kai Anderson/RJ, Tate Langdon/Dandy Mott, Chet Clancy/Xavier Plympton, trevor kirchner/xavier plympton, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller, Chuck Clayton/Kevin Keller/Reggie Mantle/Moose Mason, Nick Burkhardt/Hank Griffin, nick burkhardt/prince kenneth, Donovan/James Patrick March, Tristan Duffy/James Patrick March, rudolf valentino/donovan, John Lowe/Tate Langdon, Mr. Gallant/Michael Langdon, mr. gallant/timmoty, chad radwell/roger, boone clemens/dodger, Jimmy Darling/Dandy Mott

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, American Horror Story - Freeform, Hotel Sex, Forest Sex, Car Sex, Dildos, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Threesome - M/M/M, Professors, Sugar Daddy, school sex

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yc7JGr