#th: santiago

[classic-jamie]

man, my new roomate is so cool. he's like, the funniest, friendliest guy on campus :)

[aquamanandfriends]

Costume Party [Santiago/Maeve]

@velvetandlavenders continued from [x]

Santiago smirked at her then nudge Maeve with his shoulder gently, "Good, that's all that matters." Honestly, as long as she thought he looked good it was worth it. "Though you look really hot in this look, I do love the puns." He was always, to his friends chagrin, was making puns and dad jokes.

[whileurmine]

@th-angelical liked this for some random shit i don't know what i'm doing.

"No, yeah, so when I was drunk last night and I sent you you are so hot please step on me, that was autocorrect. That was, hm, my friend took my phone."

[aquamanandfriends]

He exhaled a little groan as she lowered her hips, "Hm," Santiago smirked up at her. "Or," he ran his hands down over her thighs. "How we'd feel together."

"Mm, about kissing you, or..." Dinah lowered her hips into Santiago's and tilted her head, playing coy. Could she get him to blush?

[dorabellingham]

El classico

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a bad game, he seeks comfort in you

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The night after El Clásico seemed to have been tinged with a weight too heavy to bear. The Santiago Bernabéu, which had previously been vibrating with the expectation of a victory, was now silent under the crushing defeat of 4-0. Jude could barely lift his face; the score was like a punch that had hit him straight in the heart, a mixture of humiliation and helplessness that he had not expected to feel so intensely.

The stadium corridors were quiet, the haggard faces of the players mingled with those of the few remaining staff. Jude walked with heavy steps, ignoring the greetings of his colleagues and the murmur of the journalists who tried to capture some reaction. He just wanted to get out of there, to escape the shadow of that defeat.

As soon as he reached the parking lot, he took out his cell phone and, without thinking much, called you. Your voice was the first thing he thought of; he didn't want to talk to anyone other than his girlfriend. Deep down, he knew that you were the only person who could understand without judging, without demanding anything.

—Hey, Jude!

You answered with that welcoming tone that made him breathe a little slower, even in the most tense situations.

Jude let out a heavy sigh before saying something, feeling tiredness mix with frustration.

—Babe... it was a disaster. A complete disaster.

His voice sounded tired, almost exhausted, and there was a vulnerability there that he rarely let show.

You, on the other end of the line, could feel every emotion through his tone, as if you were right there by his side.

—I saw it, babe. —You answered softly, trying not to let him feel like he was being judged. —Do you want to come over to my house? We can talk, or just... be quiet, if you prefer.

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

—I need you now, Y/n... I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just you.

In less than half an hour, Bellingham arrived home. As soon as you opened the door, he walked in slowly, his shoulders still slumped, his eyes downcast, and his face marked by tension. You approached and wrapped him in a hug, a gesture that he returned with a grip so firm that it almost seemed desperate.

—I can’t believe what happened. —He murmured, hiding his face in your shoulder. —So many people were counting on me, you know? It’s not just a game, darling... it’s not just a defeat. It’s... it’s like I failed everyone, the club, the fans. They trusted me.

You stroked his back, feeling how shaken he was. Jude was always strong, a leader on and off the field, but moments like these showed his more human side.

—Honey, you’re an incredible player. One defeat doesn’t change that. Everyone who understands football knows that the sport is like that, sometimes, even the best player has bad days. But you’re an essential part of the team, and they know it.

He shook his head, still not convinced.

—I know it sounds easy to say this, but... I don’t feel that way. Today was humiliating. The pressure from the fans, the disapproving looks... it’s too much.

You held his face between your hands, looking him in the eyes tenderly.

—Jude, you’ve overcome so much. Remember when you were just a little boy who dreamed of playing professional soccer? Look how far you’ve come. And you know how capable you are. This game was just a stumbling block, but you’re much stronger than that.

For a moment, he remained silent, absorbing your words. Then he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. You were his anchor, and just having you there made him feel a lightness he couldn’t find in anyone else.

You smiled at him, pulling him to the couch.

—Sit down. I’ll get us some tea, and you can tell me what else is on your mind, if you want.

As you went to the kitchen, Jude threw himself on the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions. Anger still burned inside him, but the warmth of the house and your affection helped ease the weight.

You came back with a steaming mug of chamomile tea in your hands and sat down next to him, offering the mug. He held your hand before taking the tea, as if he needed that contact to steady himself. After a sip, he sighed deeply and began to talk, telling you every detail that bothered him –the plays that didn't work out, the pressure from the fans, the feeling of helplessness.

—I know it's weird to say this... —He confessed. —But even after everything, I feel like I owe them something. I don't know how I'm going to go back there and face all of this again.

You squeezed his hand and shook your head.

—It's not weird, Jude. It shows how much you care, how much you respect what you do. That feeling is what makes you a special player.

He smiled sideways, a slight smile, still without much conviction, but a little more hopeful.

—I’m lucky to have you, Y/n. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means.

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, feeling grateful for being there for him.

—And I’m lucky to have you. Now, you’re going to rest, recharge your batteries, and tomorrow is a new day. You’re going back to the field, babe. Stronger than ever.

Jude looked at you, with deep gratitude in his eyes. He knew there would still be challenges, but with you by his side, he was sure he would be able to face anything.

[whileurmine]

He could say his place was near the studio, that the drive from one to the other was fifteen minutes max when traffic was high, that she could just sleep there if she wanted. But that was no. And begging never really got him what he wanted when it came to Cecilia. So Santiago opened his mouth and let her put the cigarette back between his lips. Trying to act like the way she treated him wasn't simultaneously humiliating and hot enough to get him ready to go again right away. "You leaving?" The drag he took of his cigarette was as long as he could possibly make it. Santiago forced his voice to sound distant, uncaring, "It's not that late yet, we could do another round." He could have anyone he wanted, but he had to want her. "Or not, I don't know." Reaching for his phone so he could look through his contacts in search of someone, anyone who would come over and take his call at this hour. There were about fifteen different messages from girls he was ignoring. He clicked on the prettiest, asked her if she was up. "What's the movie about? The one with your director boy."

Ceci was almost unable to hold in the roll of her eyes that Santiago's words caused. It always ended in that: an invitation to extend their meeting for an undefined amount of time. She was sure that if she asked him to get married again, he would agree. For a moment, she was tempted, just to see how he would react. But then... "There aren't any good hotels near your studio, though." With a last kiss, she offered his cigarette back with a smirk. "Open now."

[writefightandflightclub]

Something to prove: Frankie Morales x fem!reader blurb

Read the warnings.

Summary: you’re wrong. And Frankie wants to prove it.

Genre: steam / implied smut. Teasing / sexual tension. Brat /brat tamer or Dom / sub vibes.

A/n: okay, look. Frankie is cool, calm and collected. Expect when he’s not. And I just love finding the things that flip that switch on his composure and create, specifically, a Frankie of the u n h i n g e d and f e r a l variety. (That was my initial concept and then… this defo grew somewhat darker than I’d intended, so please do read the warnings! I dunno what happened but I guess I went a bit feral too don’t look at me 🙈)

Spoilery Warnings: there are definite dub-con elements here. Frankie is not checking-in thoroughly for consent and there’s one point where his thought-process /actions outright disregards consent (it’s Frankie’s POV). In my head, reader is enthusiastically on-board for everything which happens during the fic and for what is implied off-screen, but that’s definitely not made explicit in the text or even the internal monologue as it usually would be, and Frankie doesn’t know that for sure all the time. Consider yourself warned. As well, some dumbification here, reader called “stupid girl” etc. So… it’s a slightly darker!Frankie than I would usually write or characterise rather than aiming for canon so much! Also, implied threesome (or similar) off-screen, so a smidge of Santiago x reader which I opted not to tag as it isn’t the main focus. Some dub-con from Santi too. Daddy kink warning (once). (Light) Choking. Spitting (once). Dom / Sun, Brat / brat tamer vibes. Fingering. Definite theme in the language of “it’s for your own good / I know what’s best for you” which could be triggering, and could count as coercion. Explicit.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

Gif by @santigarcia

No, the voice in Frankie’s head blares, the word defeaning - although no sound passes his lips. No. No. No!

You’re wrong.

Even as Santiago smiles smugly. Says “you got that right, sweetie.”

No.

Frankie’s jaw writhes, his hand clawing into his own thigh even as a gentle titter spreads throughout the room, passed amiably from mirth-crinkled eye to slanted mouth.

He’s not angry at you. Not exactly.

When Benny had asked, as the juvenile truth or dare game progressed, who you thought would be best in the sack, you’d had to pick someone.

It’s just that you’re wrong.

It’s him.

In his head it’s him. In his head, no-one else can give it to you the way he’s imagined making you come undone. No-one else could have you unfurling the way he’s plotted so meticulously; late at night, as he’s bucked his straining length into his own fist, wishing it was the warm, enclosing wetness of you.

You’re wrong.

He feels his pulse drum in his throat. Feels his face pinch into something angular and hard.

He rips an abrupt swig of beer from the mouth of his bottle. Abrupt like the way he wants to tear a kiss from your mouth. Sudden and harsh, showing you your mistake.

He’s not angry at you. He’s not.

He’s angry at himself; for not showing you; that you’re wrong.

He stands. “Excuse me,” he mutters gruffly, pacing to the kitchen. Opening the fridge to give some passing pretence to his exit. His broad shoulders curl in towards the cold, seeking to calm his suddenly heat-pricked skin. His shirt pulls taut over the writhing muscles in his back.

You find him like this a moment later when you enter, your sweet voice preceding the sight of you. And fuck. The contrast of your softness to the way he’s growing rigid in his jeans has his eyes fluttering closed, lashes fanning to his cheek. Has the circle of his plush lips dropping open as a pulse of need zips along his aching shaft.

No. No. No.

You’re so wrong.

And, for some reason, the thought of correcting your mistake, by setting the record straight himself? It has him coming undone.

“The boys are so easy to please, huh?” you breeze, apparently completely unaware of his predicament. Of the blood rushing in his ears so hard he can barely even hear your voice. Unless… did he imagine that teasing, provocative edge in your tone?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Frankie is fixed in place now. Rigid and imposing. Breaths mildly ragged; frayed at the edges. He hears you hop your ass up onto the counter with a breathy little - and seemingly deliberate - mmhmph. Knows that’s where you’re at, because that’s where you usually sit. That’s your spot when Santiago is cooking, all of the squad gathered around the kitchen island. That’s when Frankie usually leans his long frame against the wall right by you. Drinks in the way your thighs swell - full and soft- as they press into the counter. Imagines slipping his broad hands on to your knees. Sliding the flat of his palms up to part your warm, supple thighs. Slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your tantalising dress until they can spear your heat.

“Santiago’s” -Frankie juts his chin and curls his lip as you say his name- “so fucking needy.”

The word needy falling from your lips does something to him. Sends a throb of heat and dull ache to his length.

You have no idea how needy he is.

How needy he has been for you.

So… No.

Not Santiago’s name in your mouth instead of his. Not fantasies of Santiago fucking you bleeding into your dreams, keeping you up at night, making you slick between your legs.

You’re wrong.

In his head you’re wrong. In his head he’s had you coming apart on his cock a thousand different times. A thousand different ways. He never leaves you anything less than sated, breathless, boneless. He’s good for you. He’s the best. He’s what you need.

You’re wrong.

A low grunt rises in his throat.

Then, finally, with effort, Frankie delicately snaps the fridge closed. Turns towards you, his usually soft gaze intense and hard. Tongue curling around his plush upper lip. It makes the tentative smile you offer drop from your face.

Frankie watches your eyes skim down his taut, long body. Imagines that he sees your pupils blowing-out. A swallow sinking in your neck as he approach you like this. Harsh. Dominant. Maybe how he should have been with you all along. Maybe you would’ve liked that better.

At least, if he had, that way you’d already know.

His pulse beats a drum in his chest. Fuck. Those thighs of yours make his arousal swell painfully in his jeans.

“You believe it?” he grits, abrupt and forceful. Something dark in him activating. Something he isn’t proud of. Something that feels primal. Hungry, after so long caged away.

Your eyes widen like prey. “Believe what?”

Frankie looks at your mouth. You don’t even know. Don’t even know what’s good for you, do you? That he’s good for you. He’s going to show you. “Don’t play dumb. You know ‘what’.”

He crosses to you. Slots his hips between your thighs. Stands over you, muscles taut and rigid. Primed; yet contained. Reaches his thumb and forefinger out to grip and lift the point of your chin; deceptively soft.

Your mouth falls open. There is a sharp intake of breath, as though his touch is electricity on your skin. You writhe yourself into the counter. Arch your chest towards him, even as your eyes widen with slight apprehension. He’s never spoken to you like that before. Has only ever been soft with you. And look where that’s gotten him. Not buried balls-deep into your cunt, that’s for sure. “F-Frankie… I…”

No. No excuses.

“He was the obvious answer.”

No.

“I had to say someone.”

No.

“I couldn’t say… I c-couldn’t say you, could I?”

“Why not?” He shoves the pad of his thumb past your lips and into your mouth before you can even answer, sliding it over your tongue. Doesn’t even care in that moment if you want it. He wants it. Needs it. But he loves how instantly you pucker your lips to suck. Loves that the hot, wet glide of your tongue obediently greets him.

An awed smile drags over his mouth as you hum around him, already becoming putty. He imagines the wet spot he could make you leave on the counter, your slit all shined for him.

“Stupid girl,” he purrs, tone dripping with condescension, his voice honey over gravel. You moan as he withdraws from your mouth. Shifts his hands to clamp down on your thighs, snaking up. “I could give it to you so much better.”

You bat your eyes at him. Toying with him, like you always do - he sees it now. “H-How am I supposed to know that? I’ve…” you bite down on your pillowy lower lip. Looks like a nice place to rest his cock while he shoves into your warm throat, he thinks. “I’ve never fucked either of you.”

Still. You should already know. You should know it’s him.

You should know you’re wrong.

Frankie’s nostrils flare. He drags the pad of his thumb along the seam of his lips. Contains the anger pulsing in him. Has half a mind to unzip his pants right here. To shove you down on the floor and to fill up that pretty mouth of yours right here. Wants to.

“But you want it, don’t you, kitten?” He’s almost certain now. Certain that he hasn’t been imagining it, all these months. The teasing. The glances. The comments. These silly little outfits you wear around him. You’ve been trying to drive him to distraction, haven’t you? Playing him and Santiago off of one another. Riling them both up. Waiting for one of them - or maybe even both of them - to snap.

He drags you to him then, abrupt, your hands flying out to steady yourself against the counter. Your heat coming to rest over the clothed, straining mass of him as he bucks his hips up, grinding up against you. You yelp and it’s a pretty, pathetic little sound. “Don’t you?” he bites off, impatient for an answer now.

You want that. You want him to take it, don’t you?

All you can respond with is a loose, breathy affirmative as Frankie clamps his hand around your jaw and throat. He feels your heartbeat fluttering in your neck. It feels - to him - like want thrumming beneath your skin. Raw and red.

He dips his mouth towards the shell of your ear next, the scent of your perfume sending him into even more of a frenzy. “Did anyone ever tell you you should be careful what you wish for?”

He grips you harder, and your eyes flash with momentary apprehension as his grip closes over your throat. In the next moment however, your gaze is muddied by a glassy, blooming contentedness. A rising hunger. He jostles your head and you move with it, already pliant for him. It’s almost as though this is what you’ve been waiting for. Baiting him to snap. Baiting him to show you what he’s capable of.

Stupid girl.

How have you managed without him all this time? You need him. Need him just like he needs you. Need him to show you.

“Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

You oblige, showing him your pretty pink tongue, and a groan unspools from his chest at how pretty you look like this. Then, without warning, Frankie spits into your mouth.

You jump slightly from the suddenness of it, though once you realise what’s happened, you appear to relish it. Swallow it down and look at him with an altogether wolfish grin.

“Mmm. Thank you, Daddy.”

Such a fucking tease. His cock is so hard in his pants now, his arousal throbbing against the thick, constricting seam. In need of release. In need of that little wet cunt of yours, like he’s imagined a thousand times.

Well, thanks to your little games, he’s done imagining.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

Frankie grabs your hand. Tugs you down from the counter and back through the house.

“We’re leaving,” he announces to the remaining squad, paying their confused and concerned enquiries little mind. Then, he directs his next words only to Santiago. “You are too.”

The other man blinks in confusion. “Whu-“

When he responds, Frankie’s tone and his demeanour leave zero room for argument - he makes sure of it, the sounds carved sharp on the knife edge of his clenched teeth. “-Now.”

Santiago obliges rightaway. “Uh huh.”

“Hey. Big fella. What are we doing?” he asks as Frankie leads you hurriedly towards his truck, stalking down the gravel drive.

“Her.”

Frankie glances at Santiago in time to catch his thick eyebrows raise in surprise; but to his credit he only skips one pace before falling right back in step with him. “Oh. We are, huh?” Santiago looks to you. He looks hungry too. “Did you know about this, Princess?”

Frankie answers for you. “She knows exactly what she’s doing. And now, thanks to her, I’ve got something to prove.”

“Oh oh, Princesa,” Santiago purrs, a smug smirk claiming his mouth.

“Oh oh?” you ask with trepidation, as Frankie bundles you into the passenger seat of the car, clipping your seatbelt for you like you can’t do it for yourself. His eyes are consumed with fire as they meet yours, his tongue darting out along his lips. God, he could have you right here. Certainly doesn’t relish the waiting.

“Yeah,” Santiago breezes, slotting into the back. Frankie exchanges a dark, conspiratorial glance with Santiago in the wing mirror, before watching his buddy lean around the shoulder of your seat. “Honey. You’ve got no idea what you’re in for, do you?”

You’re wrong.

You’re so wrong. And Frankie’s gonna show you. Over and over.

“Get her ready, would you?” Frankie pipes up, not even dragging his eyes away from the road for a second. Even so, he hears you gasp and then moan in pleasure as Santiago’s nimble fingers peel the hem of your dress away from your thighs.

“It’s for your own good, Princess. You’re gonna need it,” Santiago explains as his fingers travel, finding the wet spot between your legs. “Frankie’s big.”

“Hmm. Sure. I’ve heard that before,” you punch out, in between abortive moans of pleasure as Santiago’s fingers work their way inside you.

“Oh, it’s not a brag, honey,” Santiago snickers. Frankie joins him in laughter, like the two of them share a joke that you’re just not in on. He slides his mouth up your throat. “Trust me. It’s a kindness.”

Frankie smiles. Clamps his hands down tighter on the wheel. Can’t wait to get you home.

You’re wrong.

You’re so wrong. And he’s going to show you.

You shouldn’t push someone with a dark side if you can’t handle the consequences, he thinks.

He risks a glance as you throw your head back, mouth dropping open in a silent moan of pleasure.

You’re wrong; but he’s going to have a lot of fun proving it.

[brownieboyyylixiee]

Stray Kids 7th Anniversary 🍀

@ SKZ room 🔔

YouTube Live (approx start time)

🇨🇱 8 pm clt | 03.25

🇺🇸 7 pm et / 4 pm pt | 03.25

🇰🇷 8 am kst | 03.26

SKZ will be in Chile for the live ahead of their <dominATE Santiago> concerts on Th 03.27~Fri 28 (local time)

[aquamanandfriends]

🧛‍♂️ go to a costume party - Santiago

"I'm Greek," he explained the costumes and paused. "So I dressed like an ancient Greek-- It's funny, punny." Santiago smirked, shrugged then spun his fake sword. "Should'a just gone with Superman huh? Why does everyone keep saying that?" he mumbled in French to himself. "I get to show off my calves," he teased.

[whileurmine]

@th-angelical liked this for starters with dramatic brazilian lyrics

"You don't answer my messages, you treat me like fucking trash, you wouldn't fucking know if I was fucking dead for like a week." He counted it out on his fingers, too drunk to know better than not to say his thoughts out loud. "You know what? If you don't want me, I don't even want to fuck you anymore. I give the fuck up." Hands thrown in the air in surrender. Santiago grabbed the bottle this time instead of his glass. "You fucking suck, no one is your fucking friend. Loneliness is gonna be your reward for all this shit actually."

[aquamanandfriends]

"I'm here, with you, I shouldn't be worried about anything else." Santiago shrugged, "You think I should take some time off?" he asked hoping for an honest answer. It was hard for him to step away, even though it was his uncle's restaurant, he and his mother put so much into it. "I'd very much rather do other things with my lips than talk about it."

"You wanna talk about it?" Nox tilted his head to the side, the start of that signature, Cheshire cat grin stretching across his lips. "Or maybe not talk about it?"

[arminreindl]

"Paleontology can be really petty and stupid"

In 1898 Santiago Roth discovered the armored tail of a large turtle in Patagonia, which he showed to British paleontologist A.S. Woodward. Recognizing it as the remains of a meiolaniid, Roth was told to go on an expedition to find more material, which he did. This material, which included an almost fully preserved skull, was initially published on in a brief communication in 1899.

Strangely, also in 1899, Florentino Ameghino published his own communication claiming that his brother Carlos had found the almost fully preserved skull of that same kind of turtle, a meiolaniid he dubbed Niolamia argentina.

It is curious how both Ameghino and Roth seem to have found the exact same material of a meiolaniid in different localities at the same time, but weirder things have happened. Tho it is further pretty weird how Ameghino rushed to get a name out, but didn't bother describing what defined the animal nor designated a holotype. Hell he didn't even illustrate his skull. But lets give him some time.

Two years pass, its 1901 now. Woodward publishes a proper description of Roth's skull, illustrating the animal in detail. Having heard that Ameghino found a remarkably similar fossil, Woodward assigns the Roth skull to the same species as the Ameghino skull. Although he doesn't carry over the genus Niolamia, instead placing the fossils in Miolania (a misspelling of Meiolania, described a few years prior from Australia). Ameghino didn't seem to mind or disagree, tho he still hadn't properly described nor figured his skull.

1938: Ameghino is dead at this point and weirdly, his Niolamia skull is still nowhere to be found. Since his initial description was wholy insufficient, George Gaylord Simpson (yes thats his actual name) decides to declare the Roth skull the type specimen for Niolamia (the neoptype). Meaning that the genus is now defined on this skull rather than the one Ameghino had when coining the name.

Fast forward to 2011. It is now generally accepted that Roth's skull is the fossil that defines what Niolamia is. Of course Ameghino still gets credit, after all he described the first remains, even tho nobody has ever seen those...ever really. Over a 100 years passed and far as anyone could tell, the last person to have seen those bones were Ameghino and his brother, after which they just disappeared. But we still got the Roth skull, and Juliana Sterli and Marcelo de la Fuente could readily redescribe Niolamia based on that.

But Sterli seems to suspect that something very fishy is going on. Remember, Ameghino just happened to find a perfectly preserved skull at the same time as Roth did. Ameghino made sure to get a name out before Woodward got around to fully describe it. Ameghino only vaguely compared the skull to Meiolania, but didn't specify its unique features nor did he actually illustrate his material. So Sterli said out loud what I'm sure many people must have been thinking. "Did Ameghino just make it all up?"

In 2015 Sterli comments on the matter by noting how awfully convenient the whole situation was. Although no concrete evidence exists, Sterli suggests that Ameghino may have found out about Roth's skull, lied about having found a similar one, and named Niolamia not on a fossil he actually had but based on what little he knew about Roth's discovery.

This is just a basic summary of a rabbit hole I recently went into and my god its so frustrating on so many levels. Again we don't have concrete evidence that Ameghino's skull didn't actually exist, but the way the timing lined up and the fact that he was in a feude with Francisco Moreno, which has been likened to an Argentinian Bone War, means that this suggestion isn't that out there. It really doesn't help that his supposed skull was only ever mentioned by him in 1899 and never again. Ameghino never claimed it was destroyed or stolen, hell, far as I could find he even agreed with Woodwards research.

What's also fascinating is that seemingly, for over a hundred years, nothing was written in scientific literature casting doubt over his claim. I'm sure some people must have called bullshit on him in private, but the only resource I could find that actually goes as far as to say "Hey isn't his weird that the Ameghino skull is basically a phantom" came out in 2015. Everything in-between seemed content with just assuming that Ameghino and Roth both had skulls and just never followed up on whatever happened to the former. Then again I could just as much understand if people just didn't want to deal with this nightmare of a backstory.

[moonisneveralone]

Y'all I'm saying this with the biggest love for y'all, but do not bond too hard with a fictional character over your trauma. Especially not in this fucking series. Maybe if it's a closed medium like a movie where similar themes are explored in a way that cathartic to you that can work, but you don't know where they're taking this character and what they will have him do. So keep a layer of seperation.

I'm saying this cause I kept seeing people say things like there was hesitation in Armands eyes when Louis told him to get in the coffin.

I think the confusion has multiple levels. It is ambiguous.

People want to be protective of Armand, especially because of his history with slavery and sexual violence. That is absolutely fair. While for honesty sake I'm still in the I don't trust Armand camp, I still feel like much would be lost in my enjoyment of Assads acting ability and the series overall if I just thought of him as cartoonishly evil. To me he's a dangerous being that finds a way, while insisting on being a mercyful being. Mercy and willfulness will bring forth a specific kind of cruelty. That's what I think. So feel free to take my opinions with a grain of salt if you believe Armand completely.

But there are two things that people assume about the dynamic Louis and Armand have in Paris that I take issue with.

First is that it was solely Louis who basically forced Armand into the role of a submissive. I do not think so. The scene where Armand tells Louis about himself works twofold. On one hand Louis is supposed to understand it as an inivitation. Armand is showing himself to vulnerable to gain Louis trust. He's also showing Louis that their relationship will be different from the one he had with Lestat. But I think the ground work for the d/s dynamic is Armand asking Louis who he is. Remember that is what Armand says he does. He finds the vulnerability. That is what convinced Louis to chose Armand, which is what Armand wanted. However Armand is still clearly the one in power (which is how a dynamic like that should work). Louis can't make him do what he doesn't want to do. Armand has denied Louis when he wants to. Another clue to the fact that their dynamic definitely has rules in Paris is the Paris version of "Are you asking me or making me?" that Armand immediately apologized for. Opinions may differ, but I think he's well aware that Louis asked him and did not want to play in that moment. So Louis definitely also has boundaries. They've not talked about it like I imagine a well adjusted couple would do nowadays, but they have shown each other what lines not to cross.

Okay the get in the coffin scene. A lot of people have said there was a hesitation on Armands part. I did not see it personally. I would love to know where that idea comes from.

One thing seems to be that it was around the coven. Armand himself said he has fucked most of them and some at the theater. Santiago was getting head mid conversation some episodes ago. Supposedly Armand and Lestat fucked in the Opera with Nicki watching. I doubt that he seriously had an issue with the idea in genral.

What I saw in that scene was the equivalent to "Come to bed love" "I still have work to do" "I am wearing the thing you like" cue pushing the Laptop of the table running. The look that Armand gave Louis after he said face down in the coffin read as horny contemplation to me if anything. Working his jaw that way and looking Louis up and down just a moment shy of licking his lips and letting his tongue cartoonishly roll out his mouth. That's what I saw. Even if we were a little squeaked out by Armand not immediately consenting,

I think it's very normal to deny yourself pleasure you're generally open to in the face of responsibilities. To me it was a very "You're right it can wait." or "You know what? That's more fun." type of energy.

I have a lot of things on my mind as to why that didn't translate. Some people have openly talked about relating to Armands trauma and therefore being uncomfortable. I think to people with certain traumas this type of play can be very triggering and therefore should be approached with caution. It is still important that you know when your perception of things is bleeding into how you're picking up on cues in a fictional story though. That's why I said it's a little dangerous to get too attached.

Louis and Armand are toxic for multiple reasons, but to me personally the kink aspect is the least toxic aspect. To be honest if it were a healthy relationship and that was what both of them needed to feel safe and secure in the relationship I would be down for that. Truely go of kings. But I can't say that, because that's not what's going on and it's not that kind of show.

People have also said that Armand is retraumatising himself with the dom/sub dynamic. I think if anything him trying to keep a crushing hold on Louis is the more traumatising aspect. Fully knowing he is mot loved as he should be, but chosing to stay with Louis. Slowly draining Louis of everything that fascinated Armand about him, everything that Armand seems to like in a man until Louis is just as grey as the walls of that Penthouse is doing worse things to his psyche than any play ever could. That's my honest opinion. Because again sexually or not Armand will still do what he wants. Either himself if he can uphold his powerful benovelence or through a distructive force of his choosing. There is a moment where the relationship stopped being a relationship and became a job to him. Someone said that Armand never moves on without something new in mind. Maybe that's what it is. That he wouldn't know what to do with himself yet. He's waiting for the other shoe to finally drop.

Also one of the writers DEFINITELY did this nad wanted us to know it was an option. Girlies who like their writing and wanna spice things up this is your time.

TDLR I have nuanced reasons to believe Armand definitely wanted to get backshots in that codfin while he read.

[peterbythewayi]

Being human

What if the team of guys on a mission had a sixth person - a female Marine from intelligence?

Part IV

Frankie was racing along the highway in pitch darkness - he decided to take over from his friend, who was tired behind the wheel. Benny, again sitting in the back, lay on the back of William's seat in front and stared blankly at the road; Santiago and Anna, sitting near the Millers, silently looked out the windows, thoughtful - even their eyes synchronously followed the rarely passing cars, while their hands were folded on their chests and clenched into fists.

"So, are we doing this?" William was the first to break the silence.

“How the fuck I supposed to know,” Tom snapped sitting in the passenger seat, turning his head to the side barely noticeably, “This guy doesn't come through with the one key piece of intel we need to make this decision. For all we know, she could be setting us up to get her brother back."

At these words, everyone turned to Santiago, who was fidgeting with nerves. Anna, noticing this, leaned forward, also joining in the conversation.

“We’ll know tomorrow,” he said hoarsely, “she should have been recording that whole thing today.”

The team fell silent for a moment and Anna barely perceptibly squeezed his shoulder, reassuring him.

"All right, if it does come back clean,” Miller Sr. leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, “how would you do the Sunday morning version?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Tom said reluctantly and turned to the window.

"Bullshit, you can't help yourself,” Frankie said sarcastically, which made William smile too. He looked from him to Tom, looking at him expectantly.

"All right,” he finally gave in under invisible pressure from the guys, “in the first pop, you'd have forty minutes to get in, do the job done and get out before the family comes home from church. That's a hard out. We need to breach the fence, sweep the premises, find and subdue the guards, scrub the hard drives in the security room, get rid of Lorea, find the money, pack the money into 18 hundred-pound bags and then hoof in half a mile to the nearest vehicle. There is only two ways out: the fence in the front or over the mountain we came down, but I’m too old for that."

“Then let’s take their own van,” Anna said, leaning her hands on the seat in front and resting her chin on them.

Everyone, even Frankie through the rearview mirror, turned in her direction and she shrugged, saying that the idea was nonsense, but William, glancing with a smile at the rather grinning Santiago, said:

"We need a third van. Can your girl work that out?"

“I can ask her,” he answered and slightly turned his head back, whispering “well done” with his lips, which confused her.

"Still got your aviation guy down here?" - Tom said, turning to Miller Sr. “Cause we would need a heavy-lift helicopter in thirty-two hours to get us over the Andes and to the ocean.”

“I don't know, but I'll give him a call,” he nodded in response.

“In addition to this, we need a boat,” Tom continued, looking at Anna through the rearview mirror, “can you organize it?”

“Yeah, I’ll try to arrange it,” Anna answered after a couple of moments.

“Oh yeah, Big Dog is back,” Benny exclaimed loudly with a laugh, “Redfly's gonna to be rich, guys! Now we're talkin'.”

His infectious laughter was picked up by Anna, who turned to him and slightly shook her head, resting her cheek on her fist.

The guys just smiled. A damn crazy adventure awaited them, which everyone signed up for voluntarily.

* * *

A few hours later.

At the port, after driving through hundreds of containers, the team finally found Santiago, who, noticing them, raised his hand up. Frankie turned off the engine and they got out of the car, stretching their stiff muscles.

“Hey guys,” Garcia nodded and walked up to the container, “Take a look at this."

He deftly opened the doors and the guys, to put it mildly, were shocked.

"What the hell were you planning here?" - Benny said, looking around at the whole warehouse of weapons collected by his friend.

“Exactly this,” he responds, “Every single gun, bullet and fucking toothpicks here's been soursed in-country. The idea is to pin this on local rival gang.”

After waiting a couple of moments, Santiago continued:

"Now, who was it that didn’t trust this lady?" - He glanced at Frankie and Benny couldn't help but chuckle, - "Cause not only is she going to get us that extra van, but she got us this."

The man opened an old flip phone and showed the video to the team. They moved closer and Anna squinted to see the silhouette of a man on the scratched screen. “There's man, our Lorea,” Garcia explained and, after a pause, continued theatrically: “And, oh, what’s that behind him?”

“Looks like money to ne,” Benny whispered and, turning to Anna standing next to him, continued, “There's gotta be about thirty-five million.”

“We don't know this,” Frankie said tensely, looking intently at the screen.

“Whatever it us, it's a lot,” William noted with a smile.

A wide smile graced Santiago's lips as he saw the light flash in the team's eyes. Now he was sure that he would definitely not go through this alone. Kushing licked her dry lips, running her hand over her burning cheeks. She couldn't believe she was actually participating in this.

"What will you do with your share?" - Benny turned to the girl, but before she could even open her mouth, Frankie interrupted her:

"Never spend your money until it's in your pocket, Benjamin!"

“Well, I just sayin', I'm gonna get that Ferrari, man” the guy shrugged, walking deeper into the container.

The man just snorted at this, and Anna laughed. Her attention was drawn to the brand new, perfectly polished pistols on the table and she stepped closer, deftly picking up the "deagle".

"Easy, easy, Anna!" - Benny exclaimed, noticing a pistol in the girl’s hands. He seemed... a little scared?

“Mark 19, barrel 10 inches long,” said Anna, beginning to skillfully twirl it in her hand, “I used something similar on missions.”

“Wow,” was all the guy could say, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Looking back, he picked up another pistol with his finger and looked at the girl: “What about this baby?”

Putting the gun back in place, she looked up at Ben, and then, turning his gaze to the gun, smiled faintly.

“Jericho 941,” she stepped a little closer, “or popularly simply “Baby Eagle.”

Benny grinned, putting the gun aside and leaning his butt against the table, after which, looking back and not seeing Santiago, he shouted to his brother:

"Hey, where's Pope?"

“He came out to talk to Tom,” responded William, who was examining the rifles. - "It seems Cap is not happy with the idea."

At the mention of this word, Anna shuddered unconsciously, raising her worried gaze to the elder Miller. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to shudder and hug herself with her arms, slowly moving away from the guys. The brothers immediately noticed the change in her mood, but, looking at each other, did not comment on it out loud.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: 6. End of the Innocence

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna wins over Frankie, but in the mean times upsets Jonah and Pope

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: spit kink, non consensual voyerism, physical violence.

3.6k words

A/N: Some madonna POV, but we also get Jonah, Santi, and Frankie

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Oh, but I know a place where we can go Still untouched by men We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by And the tall grass waves in the wind You can lay your head back on the ground And let your hair fall all around me Offer up your best defense But this is the end This is the end of the innocence" ~End of the Innocence, Don Henley

“Fuck, Madonna…”  Francisco moaned under you, his massive cock filling you up again and again as you bounced on him. You had undone his belt and pant button, keeping his pants on but pulled his cock out. With your panties pulled off, you had sat on lap with his member stuffed inside you as you made out with him. Francisco was a tender, passionate lover, kissing you with all the love you’d been missing since Pope stopped kissing you at all. 

“I love you, Francisco…” You whisper to him, clutching his body to yours in desperation. You needed him to know how much he was adored and appreciated. He is your husband just as much as the others are, even if he ignored you for so long. You card your fingers through his hair and nibble on his lips, sucking the pouty lower one into your mouth and pulling. “My handsome man…”

Hands on his chest, you kiss him down, letting his head fall back on the grass and your hair cascade down around him. Francisco moans out a strained ‘Madonna…’ as his cock twitched inside you. You knew he preferred to be taken care of instead of in charge, you had noticed it in the way Pope fucked him. Whatever Francisco wanted, you were going to give it to him. Anything for him to love you the way you love him. Anything to have the love of all your husbands.

Pushing yourself up, you bounce on his cock as he runs his hands up your loose dress, feeling up your tender breasts and playing with your nipples. He tweaked them through the thin dress, rolling the hardened buds in his fingers until you cry out his name, sweat beading down your face in the warm sun. “Francisco!” You close your eyes tightly, your senses taking in him, him, him. He roughly squeezes a tit, and as your legs tire you fold down over him again to his beautiful mouth. You feel him spearing you, laying his claim really and truly for the time as he hit that spot inside you that made you dizzy.

“So beautiful, Madonna” He mutters against your ear, panting and whining for you and only you. He was so beautiful like this, comfortable and happy and turned on, paying attention to your body. “Gonna cum…” He whines, hips bucking as he chases his release. “Please, need to cum, need to cum so fucking bad.”

Tender, you kiss his forehead, sliding up and down his throbbing cock, wanting to get him off so fucking badly. “Cum for me, I’m right behind you, wanna feel you fill me.”

With a loud groan, Francisco pulsed inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. The thought of becoming pregnant out in this field after finally securing his love, your body swelling with the savior… you came on his cock, pussy gripping his softening member with your fingers digging into his skin. It was hard, it was blinding, your heart bursting with love for the man eveloping you in his arms. 

His cock still stuffed inside you, you rest your head on his shoulder. For the first time since the incubus, you fall asleep peacefully. Francisco would keep you safe, plugged up with his cum so it had no chance of leaving. You were going to get pregnant.

*

Fracisco woke to the sound of footsteps on the grass, and as he remembered him and Madonna’s compromising position he gasps awake.

“Oh shit- god dammit-” He see’s Jonah quickly turn around, grumbling and ruffling his hair, tucking his other hand in his jean pocket next to his holster.

Francisco’s pants were still fully on and your dress fell around you, so to Jonah it had only looked like you had fallen asleep cuddling. He must have realized that you were still implailed on him. The panties on the grass didn’t help. 

He felt you stir, but he caressed your hair and shushed you. You were so tired, the bags around your eyes getting clearer every day. You needed your rest. 

“It’s getting dark…” Jonah mumbles, clearly uncomfortable but trying to do his job. Frank didn’t mind Jonah, honestly. He did good work and especially he treated Madonna well. Frankie knew he has a fatherly presence, something Frankie didn’t long for the way Santi did, but he knew you needed. And Jonah needed someone to take care of since Iris rejected him. They didn’t even talk for the first three years of it all.

“Give us a few minutes” Frankie whispers to Jonah’s back. It was 20 minutes before he finally woke you, the pair of you having slept on the grass for 2 hours or so. He wanted to pocket your panties, but he didn’t want to have something someone might find. If Santi found it, his jealousy would be a problem for everyone involved. If Ben found them, he’d be hurt, thinking Frankie preferred Madonna. Did he love his wife? Yes… yes he thought he did. Who was he to reject this unconditional love from her? Yes, he loved his wife but he loved the man who was now his husband more. Benny before all else.

There was no way on this earth that Francisco was letting his wife, still wet and dripping with his cum, smelling of sex, in her pretty dress with Jonah of all people. Will would flip his fucking shit if he saw Madonna on his lap. So, she’d sit with him as they rode back.

Problem was, that smell of sex? That dripping, tight little hole that was all he could think about now? Her cute ass pressed against his crotch as she bounced on the horse? He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the house. His dick hardened against you, his arms pressing you close to him, he slide a hand up to touch your body. It’d been so long since he touched a woman’s body, preferring the company of Ben if he had a choice… and taking the love he could get from Santi if he couldn’t. He forgot how soft women were. Ben was rigid, safe, strong. His body was firm in a way that comforted Francisco. Santi was softer, sure. Santi’s legs and ass were thick with meat and his stomach a padding of stomach fat, but under it all was muscle still, joints and tissue and heft all boundled in the tight body of the would-be savior. Santi could never relax, his anger, his shame, his failings, the ever-present overcast of his mother never allowing him a moments peace. It wasn’t uncommon for Santiago to take Frankie in the sanctuary, Beatriz’s remains watching them as they consummate on the alter, not unlike Madonna, after reciting faux vows multiple times. Francisco had sworn his fidelity to Santi again and again in these private ceremonies… Francisco didn’t believe a word of Beatriz, her wishy-washy attitude of who the savior was when  her mood changed solidified that for francisco in his youth… but some days…

Some days Francisco wanted Ben to drag him into the sanctuary, he wanted Ben to bend him over the alter and claim him, to not belong to and be subject to the will of any Garcia again. To belong to Ben and only Ben and tell Santi to fuck of… But that wasn’t happening. The Millers were dying before Beatriz took them in, and Ben had worshiped the ground Beatriz and Santiago walked on, and if Frank were being completely honest, he did long Santi. He missed their boyhood together, before Santi’s soft mess was beat out of him and he stuff all his love for his brother until it folded in on himself, only let loose under the cover of night fucks and threesones and orgys.

Ben was a rock. Santiago was dynamite waiting to explode.

You? You were soft. And it didn't matter that Jonah was only a few feet away on his horse, Francisco was going to feel every inch of that softness. You wanted him? Out in the open, no secret? He'd have you out in the open.

“Francisco?” You whisper as he slips a hand under your dress, feeling your little clit through the cotton.

“I got you, just relax…” But you squirmed against him. There was nowhere to go, the trotting horse so far off the ground and his arm tight against your middle. “Relax.” He was more firm this time.

You stopped moving, but your body remained stiff. “But… Jonah.” You speak quietly so the other man doesn’t hear, but Francisco doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip, pressing down hard on your clit and rasps in your ear. “Relax.”

You have to bite on your cheeks to keep from whimpering, and Francisco doesn’t like that. He wants to hear your sounds again so he toys with your body, playing you like an instrument he is well practiced in. Your nipples are stiff and sensitive, making them easy prey to Francisco’s long fingers. How did he know your body so intimately already? His fingers working fast, Francisco is still ever-tender, kissing your mouth as you tilt your head to kiss him. You were a pretty girl, you deserved to be kissed, but right now he wanted to hear you so he opted to detach from your mouth and kiss down your neck, sucking a possessive hickey on you until he got what he wanted; a moan.

He saw Jonah tense and smiled against your delicate skin as you began to relax finally. You still were stifling your sounds, obviously not wanting the older man to hear you on the verge of cumming, but little noises were slipping out. Jonah grunted and kicked the horse, effectively riding ahead. His was missing out, the desperate, shuttering whimper as you came was music to Franicosco’s ears, cumming in his own pants once again.

*

Jonah’s face was burning. He didn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want to see what he saw. He didn’t want to know what she did with those four at all hours of the day outside of her not being harmed too badly. He has a duty to Marcus to keep her as safe as he could without rocking the boat too much. His duty to Iris came before all else. Now he was physically sick, and he was stuck with her trailing behind him. Francisco was putting the horses away, and obvious wet spot in his own pants sickening Jonah more, and had told Jonah to watch her.

Her voice was small. “Jon-”

“Don’t” He grunted, not wanting to talk. He needed to find Iris or Reyansh, he needed someone else to watch her. He needed to get away. 

“I’m sorr-”

Jonah whipped around to face her, keeping his distance.  His shame only grew when Jonah saw her eyes flick down to his pants. It was brief, only for a second and she didn’t see anything there but the fact you thought you might, the fact you had any suspicion that he might have gotten turned on by Frank’s display was humiliating.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I- I couldn’t hold it in. I was trying to be quiet but he-”

Jonah shut his eyes, not needing any more imagery and held up a hand. “Honey I can’t do this right now, okay? I’m not-” He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just can't be around you right now.” He saw your lip quiver, but Iris walked into the hall carrying a load of laundry on her hip. “Here.” He looked at Iris and gestured towards you. “I need you to watch her.”

 Iris scoffed at that. “You can’t just pawn her off on me when you’re bored of her.”

“I’m not pawning her off, I-”

Your voice was small but firm, slight wavering but determined to speak. “I’m not- I’m not a puppy who can’t be left alone for 5 minutes…” 

Jonah scrubs his face. “That’s not what I meant… I just mean-”

“I know what you mean,” She looked back and forth between him and Iris who was listening curiously. “But I’m not a child, I’m not a dog. I’m the Madonna and I don’t need to be babysat.”

“I know, I know, but they want someone with you at all times-”

“I’m twenty-two!” You suddenly raise your voice.

Jonah was done with this conversation, he couldn’t look at you without feeling sick right now. He turned to Iris. “Watch her, please?” and stormed off. He needed to find Frankie. He hears Iris sigh, then speak to you. 

“C’mon, you can help me and Rey with laundry.”

Rey must really love her if he was helping her do laundry. He'd seen his room... laundry was not a priority...

*

Jonah slammed Frank against the wall as he entered the house from the stables. At about the same height, Jonah had an inch on him but that didn’t mean much against Frank’s broad expanse. Jonah needed to posture if he was going to intimidate him, even if Frankie was the most timid of the 4. He needed to make sure that today did not repeat. “What the FUCK was that!”

Frankie’s eyes were wide, all his prior bravery and showmanship gone as Jonah pressed his forearm into his chest. Jonah’s hand was fisted in his shirt. “Nothing!”

“That girl has enough going on without you publicly humiliating her! Are you going to bring her to one of your sex parties next? Parade her around naked for everyone to see!”

“NO!”

“What the fuck happened to you! You were the good one, Frankie! After everything Beatriz put us through, you wanna do that to her too!”

When Frankie’s mouth opened to respond, hurt and guilt flittering across his face just as Jonah knew it would, Jonah was tossed to the ground and tackled. Before Jonah even had a chance to see who it was, his face being beaten by fists, he knew it was Ben.

“DON’T! FUCKING! TOUCH HIM!” The boy shouted, pounding Jonah’s face so hard he wondered if he’d cave it in. The thought didn’t seem so bad, but he couldn’t leave Iris and the girl. It wasn’t fair for Jonah to escape this hell he put Iris in.

It was Frankie that pulled Ben off him, eyes blue and crazed and flashing with anger, keeping his body protectively in front of his lover. They were a secret from Santi and the girl, both of them too oblivious to suspect, but the rest of the household knew. 

“Ben, stop, it’s fine”

“IT’S NOT FINE!” He screams, chest heaving in rage. Ben turns around to cup Ben’s cheek. “He doesn’t get to fucking touch you, baby.”

Frankie averted his eyes, body language stiff. It seemed he was okay compromising the girl’s dignity, putting her sexuality on display but was uncomfortable with Ben touting him. The reason, of course, was that Santi was a jealous god and Ben's possession could end his life, but the irony was still there.

The men left the hall, Frankie only looking back on where Jonah lay bleeding for a moment.

It was Rey that finally found him, Jonah too pained to get up on his own. His nose must be broken and everything ached, but the shame on Frankie’s face was enough. He made his point.

“Jonah! Shit!” Rey ran to him, and jonah forced himself to sit up lest the boy think he was dead.

“I’m fine, Rey.”

“Fucking bullshit, who did this? Was it Santi?”

He laughs. As if that man could get the jump on him without a knife or gun. Jonah could take him, he wasn’t the problem. The problem was the others. Ben, obviously, was a fucking force, and Will was a human mountain. Frankie was timid but don’t let that fool you, he’d seen the man take down forces.

The problem with Santi is the loyalty he garnered. Harming him meant the other 3 coming after him, and a majority of the commune. Delta would die for him, literally drinking the kool-aid if he asked. 

Jonah refused to go to the kitchen, knowing Iris and the girl would be there, so Rey took him to his room to clean him up.

“You probably shouldn’t sleep.” Rey says, icing his face. 

“I probably should drink either, but I'm gonna ask you to get me some whiskey.”

Rey chuckles and shakes his head, but gets the drink anyway. Jonah would just get his own.

Jonah mutters a thank you. “Please don’t tell Iris…” He sighs, knowing the answer to his request.

“You know I have to. Everyone else lies to her, she needs me to be honest.”

‘Everyone’ meant him. He hadn’t been a good father, he knew that. God, did he love her. Iris deserved better, he wanted to leave with her but there were no options. Everything around them had fallen apart, the other small communities around being so afraid of Delta they’d turn them in.

In the barren environment, Iris would die of exposer or be raped and killed by raiders within weeks, even with him and Rey protecting her. Not that she needed much protection, she was a skilled shot… which is why she wasn’t allowed a gun. Will kept careful eye on all the guns in Delta, Jonah himself only allowed his pistol during the day time, turning it in at night.

But Jonah hadn’t given up. He wouldn’t give up on getting Iris out until his last breath. If he could get the girl and Rey out too, he would, but Iris was the priority. 

*

The energy had shifted, and Santi noticed.

Santiago fucked into Frankie who he had flipped naked onto his stomach with Will having Madonna on her back. Frankie, who previously in these moments had focused on him or Ben was now eying her tits as they bounced in time to Will’s thrusts. He had kissed her, even, which hadn’t sat right with him. He tolerated it with Will or Ben, but her? She wasn’t for Frankie to love, she wasn’t for Frankie to be attracted to even. She was for Frankie and him to fill.

You were on the edge of an orgasm, but so was he, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste his godly essence on a barren hole. And he wanted to, god he wanted to. He wanted to cum so hard into his lover that Frankie swelled with child. Could it be possible? They were god, they were powerful… Maybe if he fulfilled his duty, maybe if he produced the savior with the whimpering girl impaled on his brother's dick, Mother would grant him this. If he had it his way, he’d have this child with Frankie only… but even now, even in his 30’s and the primary leader of Delta, a demi-god and son of the Holiest Mother on high, he could not control this.

With a strangled, pained groan, Santi pulled out of his most favored lover, shoving at Will as he stroked himself. Taking the hint, Will came inside you, kissing you deeply even as he pulled himself away to make room for their leader. As Santi angrily pounded your core, making your eyes roll back as he was the one to make you cum, not Will. He watches as your body writhes under him, Will’s cum coating his cock and spathering on his hips as it leaks out. Frankie joins Will in kissing you, your pleasured face chasing both their mouths until it was a blur of who was kissing who, the two mouths intertwining. 

Your moans grow louder again, chest heaving and back arching off the mattress and unable to kiss back as another orgasm began to eclipse you. That’s right, your pleasure was his. He controlled your body and what it felt, good or bad. Kneeling on either side of you, Will and Francisc straight and made out above, you sloppy and wet with Will shoving his large fingers into Frankie’s mouth. Santi wanted to cum, but his anger, his jealousy the white-hot fury that bubbled at his life-long inadequacy was holding him back. Will was practically throat fucking Frankie with his fingers, his left hand wrapped around his throat and Francisco’s whimpering moans gargled by his spit that dribbled down his chin and onto your breasts.

Pleasured sounds from your lips intensified when your hands went to your breasts, spreading the droll on your tits and playing with your nips with the slicked-up pads of your fingers. Despite fucking you, from where Santi knelt between your legs he felt on the outside of the scene, like he was the dildo and they were your porn, like he was being cucked in his own goddamn home.

Will pulled his fingers out, ordering Frankie to spit in her mouth. Santi watched in jealousy as you swallowed that part of him, quickly followed by Will’s own saliva. When Will went back to kissing Frankie, wet smacks of lips on lips, he used his dominant hand to jerk off Frankie's, throbbing, massive, uncut cock and the other shoving two fingers in your mouth. He wasn’t aggressive with you, merely giving you something to suck on as you came around Santi’s cock again. And then again. When Santiago watched Frank cum on your face, streak after streak of white liquid on your skin, Santiago couldn’t take it anymore. Angry, he reached out to fist Frank's brown curls and yank him towards him, lips crashing together. 

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM he thrust his hips into Madonna until she screamed a final orgasm with the help of Will's lips lapping at her nipples. As Santi came into your womb with fury, biting down on Frankie’s lips until he tasted blood. When it was done, he shoved Frankie to lay down where Santi joined him, lapping at the tangy blood and sucking on hip lip to draw more out. Will laid down by you, kissing you in a stark contrast. It was gentle and soft, making you smile. 

Santiago reached out repeatedly, scooping up the cum on your face and shoving it inside your sore, puffy pussy.

“Can’t be wasting a single drop, Frankie.”

WHAT ARE WE THINK WHAT ARE WE THINKING WHAT ARE WE THINKING

I don't know what came over me with that smut bro, I blacked out and wrote it. im on my period a lot is happening.

Oh Frankie.... c'mon dude, don't do Jonah like that :((((

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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[ruthplaysthesims]

MY WORST SIM NIGHTMARE JUST HAPPENED!

So as I was getting ready to narrate the next part of Kaori's story, I came to the dreadful realization... My screenshots weren't saving! So all I was preparing was for nothing! Well, good thing I am a writer. I'm not gonna leave y'all hanging. Good news is I was able to find the last two shots I took before closing the game. So those two will be used as the cover of this chapter (or part or whatever you want to call it) With that being out of the way, I will go ahead and write the story out for you all.

Part Nine: Face to face

As the girls arrived at the charter, they couldn't help but feel uneasy about the amount of security that was there.

Amani: Whoa. This is a lot of people..

Siddhartha: I know. You'd think the president is coming over. Are the Itos REALLY that wealthy.

Kaori stays silent.

Amani: Oh look, there's agent Morales.

Kaori quickly throws on her shades.

Siddhartha: Amor, don't be ridiculous. I'm sure he'll barely say anything about it. You're fine.

Amani: Who's that chick beside him??

They all look at the brunette standing next to Carlos.

Siddhartha: That's agent Deaton. She's a DDA too.

Kaori : Oh cool.

They showed their badges and headed onward to where the jets were supposed to land. The girls were idly waiting. Kaori couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. She knew Gatsby had sent Carlos to especially watch over her. But would she really be able to hold it in??

Kaori (Come on, Kaori. Pull yourself together!!!)

Morales : Agent Nishidake.

She looked up and saw Carlos looking at her.

Kaori : Agent Morales... A pleasure to meet you.

Carlos: Likewise...

*awkward silence*

Carlos: Gatsby would like to talk to you privately later. Be on the lookout for his phone call.

Kaori : I see.

**AN HOUR LATER**

After what felt like a forever wait, the first plane had landed and everyone began to adjust themselves.

When the doors to the plane opened, Nanami stepped out. She looked around and took a deep breath before descending the steps.

Nanami: Home at long last…

She looked around and smiled politely before Agent Morales walked up to her.

Morales: Welcome back, Ms. Ito. I hope your flight wasn't too much trouble.

Nanami: Hi. Is my brother here yet?

Morales: Your brother will be landing shortly.

Nanami: Can I wait here and see him? I haven’t seen him in forever.

Agent Grant walks up to her.

Grant: Ms. Ito, we are under strict rules to bring you home as soon as you land.

Nanami: But my brother -

Grant: I can assure you you'll see him once he gets home. Your ride is waiting for you. Agent Santiago and I will be riding home with you.

Nanami sighs, disappointed that she doesn't get to see Kiyoshi until he gets home. She reluctantly went into the car. Her luggage was put behind and the driver drove them to the Ito residence.

Kaori watched as she was led away to the car. Nanami looked more proper, was more polite and reserved. She had also grown to be just as beautiful as her mother. Kaori remembered just how much of a kleptomaniac she was when she was a kid. Looking at her now, she was sure she had grown past that phase.

A few minutes had passed and the other plane landed. Kaori could feel her heart racing. When the door opened, there he was… He looked even more handsome than she remembered. He had cut his hair, looked a lot more fit, taller… He walked down the steps of the plane and looked around before sighing..

Kiyoshi: Show off..

Kaori could not bring herself to move. She just stared as he made his way down the stairs. Agent Morales looked at her before nudging her.

Morales: Agent Nishidake.

Kaori looked over at Carlos.

Morales: Are you sure you can do this?

Kaori: I’m not a child. Yes, I can do this.

Agent Morales walked up to Kiyoshi.

Morales: Welcome back to Mt. Komorebi, Mr Ito..

Kiyoshi: Thank you.

Morales: I am Agent Morales. Agent Deaton and I will be escorting you back.

Kiyoshi nodded. He picked up a backpack and threw it over his shoulder. He walked toward the limo, though he noticed Kaori standing there, he couldn't recognize her because she was wearing shades. Kaori entered the Range Rover and at Carlos'signal, all dove to the Ito residence.