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wyn-n-tonic · 1 year

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Hi! I really enjoy your Santiago Garcia stuff and was wondering if you’d write daddy Santi helping with period cramps? Like imagine those big warm hands giving you a massage. Heaven. (I was thinking normal sweet massage but when it comes to Santi it might end up becoming more than sweet ;) whatever u feel like) Thank you!

Take Care

Word Count: 1.9k+ Warnings: Daddy kink, oral sex mention (f received), unprotected period sex. Blood mention, obvs. A/N: I hope this lives up to expectations!!

Bloody and bruising.

Bowed over, taken down, and everything inside is twisting and churning like a hot tub on fucking fire.

Pain between your hips, radiating down to your knees and up to your breasts and further on into your head.

That’s where the pain receptors are, the little things inside of your head that read what your nerves are writing out. Apparently the pain pills you’re supposed to take are supposed to block that goddamn function but, yet again, here you are with your head halfway down the toilet begging God not to let you pass out on the floor like you’re a college freshman all over again.

Which would be fine, honestly, if you were living by yourself still. But you just moved in with your boyfriend after months of him begging and he has never seen you like this, you make absolute sure of that.

It’s not that Santiago can’t handle blood and puke but he shouldn’t have to handle your blood and puke. Not this early, at least.

But then the front door is closing at the bottom of the stairs and his footsteps are falling throughout the house talking to you normally until you don’t answer back. Only then does he sound a little panicked, doors opening and closing throughout the rooms downstairs until there’s heavy treading on the wood stairs.

Trying to get up, to call back to him, is goddamn useless because, every time you do, another round of vomit threatens to crawl up the length of your throat.

It doesn’t matter, though. Because he follows the sound of your cries as the muscles in every part of your body seize you again.

“Baby?” Santiago falls to his knees beside you, large hand splaying across your back in a way that makes you cry out louder until he pulls away. “What's wrong? Baby?”

This is so fucking embarrassing and you tell him as much in the small, pitiful illusion of words you manage to bite out. Barely living with him a month and your uterus decides to make you scream like you’ve been shot in stomach.

Which is exactly what he tells you he sounded like when he actually was.

“Come on, baby, what is it?” He asks, pulling himself to a squat. “Do you need to poop? Benny gets like this when he needs to poop sometimes.”

"I don’t need to take a fucking shit, Santiago!”

Head cocked, he raises an eyebrow. “Is that anyway to talk to daddy, sweetheart?”

Really, you just want him to go away. Give you another pain pill and fuck off for a few hours until you feel like a fucking human being again. It’s the second day, that’s always the worst one, it’ll pass. You know it’ll pass.

But right now?

“Tiago, baby, I love you, but I just—“ Instead of finishing your sentence, you knock him off his balance on your way back to the toilet to choke out another teaspoonful of fucking bile.

“Please get out,” you tell him through the tears and the raw throat.

He shakes his head. “Fuck you, princess, what’s wrong?”

Deep breath. “It’s my period, daddy,” you bite out at him.

“Okay,” he stands, hands up in surrender.

He walks out and you’re thankful. In the past, when you’ve been sick—truly sick—every time he walked away to get more medicine or fluids or the thermometer, you whined for him not to leave you. Now? Now you let out the first breath of relief you’ve felt all day.

Five minutes passes with your head in your hands, supporting the aching, pounding brain as you hang it between the knees drawn up to your chest.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” his voice comes out low and deep.

He’s in his undershirt when you look up, button up disposed in favor of his bare arms. There’s a mug in his hands and you can see the steam rising from the cup.

“I'm not taking my clothes off with you in here, Santi.”

His eyebrow raises again. “You think I’m scared of a little bit of blood?”

That's just the thing. At the end of the day, it’s all these theatrics for just a little bit of blood. All these cramps—all this vomit—for barely a goddamn thing.

“Take these,” he puts pills in your hand, waving you off when you tell him you’ve already taken something. “I don’t care about what little baby bitch pills you’ve picked up from the pharmacy, these are South American and you won’t feel shit after about thirty minutes.”

“Are they from some fucking narco you’ve worn the blood of?”

He huffs a laugh and squats down next to me again. “I’d like to wear your fucking blood so if you could take your clothes off and get into that shower, I’d really appreciate it.”

Cramps take you again and so, too, do his words as. “Do you think that telling me you’ll wear my blood after I’ve asked about all the people you’ve shot is funny?”

Hands to his chest, his eyes turn liquid coal. “You wound daddy, baby,” he says, tone half mocking. “Maybe the cramps and embarrassment are going to your big, beautiful, smart brain because it was actually meant to be sexy—or did you forget all the times I’ve told you I like the taste? We live together now, princesa, you don’t get to lock me out of parts of my own house and tell me not to take care of my girl.”

His hands are large and careful as he helps you up, holding you close to him as he helps you brush your teeth and wash your mouth out. “I wish you would’ve called me at work, baby,” he whispers as he starts to strip you down. “Would've rushed straight home and done this already; been downstairs and making dinner while you slept off the pills in a fucked out high.”

Your muscles are betraying you again but in the way that they’re reacting to every single word of his honey thick voice. “I love you, Santi.”

He says nothing, just kisses your temple and puts you in the shower to start letting the warmth run over you as he strips down to join you.

He tries nothing in the shower, his only focus on holding you up while the pills kick in and the only lingering touches of his fingers between your legs come in the form of washing you beneath the spray.

It’s when he gets you out from the water that he gets handsy, small words checking in with you and asking how your body feels. He grabs a towel and lays it out on the bed before encouraging you to lay facedown.

“I should really put panties on, Santiago,” you say. “I”m going to make a mess on the bed.”

Shushes fall from his mouth as he presses kisses into your spine, large hands kneading into your flesh as he works his way down. “Do you mind the idea of period sex, by the way, baby girl? Or do you just want me to keep massaging this beautiful back of yours and let you be?”

Lifting your head up, you do your best to look back at him. “I don’t mind the idea,” you tell him. “I've never done it before though.”

He laughs. "Yeah, because you never let daddy stick his big, fat cock inside of you during it.”

“You know it’s weird that you call yourself daddy more than I call you daddy, right?” You ask him. “You're so desperate, it’s cute—“

A loud smack runs ripples up your spine but he was right about those pills—you don’t feel a goddamn thing but the shivers and the lightheadedness of a turned on buzz.

“So, can I put it in you?” He asks, hand smoothing across the swell of your ass. “Please, baby? You can make any kind of mess you want but it’ll feel better when the pills wear off, I promise.”

He pulls your ass up towards him as you nod, laying another smack across the flesh of your backside as you pull a pillow towards you, and he wastes no fucking time in pushing himself inside of you—all the way down with no effort and a low groan of deep satisfaction.

“It's funny because I know how horny you get on your period, princess,” he says with another hand clapped down on your ass. “Sext me like a pent up virgin who’s read far too much erotica with your shit Spanish and—“

“Does insulting me make you feel like a bigger man, daddy?” You throw back to him. “Because if that’s the case, you can get the fuck out of me and relieve yourself in the shower, my vibrator will do just fine.”

Leaning over you, he presses his lips into your shoulder. “It actually makes me feel bigger when you give me shit back, princesa.”

Your fucking head is lost in the way he sinks his teeth into your neck, the skin pulled taut as he bites down and sucks.

It could be the high of the pills or his cologne but that doesn’t take away how right he is—how good he feels inside of you. You never let him see you like he did earlier; you did lock him out and keep yourself away all those months you kept separate spaces. Because while you knew how good he was when you were sick, all past experiences with boyfriends and blood involved ended in tears and not the kind you’ve fallen face first into as he punches louder and louder cries out of you.

“You feel that?” He asks, voice so low—mocking—and you can feel his eyes raking down your spine as his hand runs up and around to squeeze at your breast. “Feel your muscles tightening up? Or can you not? Are daddy’s pills blocking this warm”—he thrusts harder—“thick”—harder—“orgasm I’m pulling out of this slick little cunt?”

There’s laughter in your throat over the absurdity of it all; that you were crying and choking back vomit not even an hour ago and now you’re clenching in some fucked up state of euphoria; that your muscles were tightening in betrayal of your body and now they’re tightening for your body’s pleasure.

That you were full of tears of pain and now are full of tears of pleasure as he squeeze and kneads and pumps harder but slower to drag out the strokes of this full feeling he puts all throughout you.

You don’t even realize you’re crying out his name until he’s shushing you, cooing out with soft mouth sounds after pushing in and letting go on a hard, guttural grunt.

“Do you still hurt, baby?” He asks, lips pressed into your temple as he leans over you. You can feel him twitching inside of you with every breath. “Or are you ready to nap up here in your fucked out little state of mind while I make you dinner?”

He doesn’t even let you fully answer before he’s smacking your ass again as he pulls himself out of you.

“Stay here with this cute little ass up in the air,” he says. “I'll be back after I put dinner in the oven to eat my dessert.”

#soft santi sunday #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #o writes

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 2 years

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[ID: Porthos is in the foreground, walking determinedly down a luxurious corridor. Behind him, in the background, Aramis flips his hat along his forearm with one hand and puts it on his head./end ID]

My umpteenth rewatch, and I'd never noticed Aramis doing his little hat trick in the background again!

#musketumblr #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #aramis #santiago cabrera #a late addition to santi sunday #porthos #howard charles

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zporphyrogenita · 2 years

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nyaueth riam by santi de hita for sunday times style uk, march 2022

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syndesinae · 1 month

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i'm so homesick i'm gonna snort a line of lawrys orange pepper off a cottonmouth's back

#i do love it here i do #just #there's no cool bugs #you can't swim in the ocean #the food is mid #don't even get me started on the fruit #i havent tasted a real peach in five fucking years #i want CEVICHE i want MARGARITAS WITH FRESH KEY LIMES i want GUMBO FROM A WOMAN WHO FAINTS IN CHURCH EVERY SUNDAY #I WANT TO GO TO A PUERTO RICAN DELI #amusement parks.... pretending to hate tourist shit but still going and having the time of your life.... taking gator pics.......#fuck de santis. i want to go home.#i just want to go home

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radioprinz · 7 months

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The real tragedy of Season 2 is that Pauline Mackenzie was killed just when Darius wanted to resign as VP. I can't help but feel forever sorry for him.

#darius tanz #santiago cabrera #salvation #cbs salvation #salvation cbs #salvation season 2 #salvation 2x06 #vice president tanz #pauline mckenzie #tovah feldshuh #he wanted to get rid of that job so badly #instead he got it even worse #the most useless job in American history #santi sunday

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canadiangirl-82 · 9 months

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Happy Santi Sunday everyone!

Credit to Original Creator

#santiago cabrera #men we love #characters we love #santi sunday

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msarams · 2 years

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Why. Is. He. So. Fucking. Beautiful?

Happy Santi Sunday!

#santiago cabrera #santi sunday #why is he so fucking beautiful #digging the salt and peppering

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thanatophobia-thoughts · 2 years

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#wholesome news #going green #wholesome sunday #ana santi

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witnbeauty · 1 year

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Santiago Cabrera...just because...

#santiago cabrera #santi sunday #he's so fucking beautiful #men we love

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lewisvinga · 1 month

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Dios mío! | toto wolff x latina! reader x susie wolff !

summary; in which the young single mother of one of jack’s friends catches the attention of toto and susie

warnings; age gap

word count; 1.05k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote

note; requested ! my fave dilf n milf tbh , my requests are CLOSED ATM!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Santiago! Adónde vas?” [where are you going?]

Y/n sighed as she followed the tan, curly-haired boy who just laughed in response. She held onto her bag in one hand and his helmet in the other as she ran after him. She huffed as she noticed other parents stare at her chasing her son around the track.

“Santiago! Ya vas a ver.” [you’ll see]

Santiago finally stops in front of another boy with brown hair. He greeted the young boy and the two immediately started conversing about whatever they usually chatted about.

Y/n finally caught up to her son and was completely out of breath. She bent down and grabbed Santiago’s arm. “Santiago, what did we talk about?”

“Stay by Mamás side.” The curly-haired boy mumbled.

“Exacto!” [exactly]

“But I wanted to see my friend Jack!”

“I know you’re excited, papito, but that doesn’t mean you can run off on your own. I don’t want you getting lost.”

Y/n sighed as she stood back up, finally realizing that Santiago’s friend and his parents were in front of them. Her face started to heat up from embarrassment. She let out a nervous chuckle as she brushed off her jeans. “I’m so sorry about Santiago.”

She finally got to take a closer look at Jack’s parents. They both seemed older compared to Y/n who had Santiago as a teenager. Jack’s father was tall, way taller than her or his mother. He had black frames and a smirk adorning his face.

Jack’s mother was shorter but seemed to have a strong aura. Her hair was short and blonde. The smile she wore matched her husband's. Both combined emitted an aura that Y/n couldn’t help but feel attracted to.

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it.” The blonde exclaims with a laugh. “Jack always talks about him.”

“Where are my manners?” Y/n suddenly gasped as she flattened her baby hairs that escaped from her ponytail. She holds her hand out with a smile, “I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

Jack's mother flashes her a smile before quickly shaking her hand. “Susie.”

Her husband was quick to shake Y/n’s hand after, the smile still evident on his lips. “Toto Wolff. Your son seems amazing, Jack is always talking about his best friend Santiago.”

Y/n lets out a laugh as she gently pats Santiago’s dark curls. “He’s the only one I got here. My family is back home in Latin America, so I always try to raise my boy the best I can.”

Susie nods sympathetically before her head tilts to the side out of curiosity. “And his father? Does he help?”

Y/n let out a disappointed sigh. “Nope. It’s just me and Santi in this world.” She chuckled and shrugged, “It’s better off just us two.” Her confirmation that she was indeed single made the married couple share a glance.

They’ve seen her several times at Jack’s school before while picking up Santiago. They never got a clear look at her until right before one of Jack’s races where her son ran up to their son. She caught their attention immediately, especially with the way she seemed so careful of Santiago.

Toto and Susie had shared multiple knowing looks while the young mother was talking to her son just moments earlier. They were attracted to her no doubt.

“Mamá,” Santiago’s soft voice interrupted them. He stared at Toto with wide eyes. “He’s the team principal of Mercedes.” He thought he was whispering but in fact, he was talking really loud.

His failed attempt at whispering caused Toto to let out a deep laugh, his hand ruffling up the boys’ curls. “Indeed I am, Santiago.”

At the realization, Y/n let out a gasp. She wasn’t into Formula One but he son was. She often spent Sundays making carne asada and watching races with Santiago even if she wasn’t interested. She had only seen Toto and Susie on screen once or twice, but she failed to recognize them until her son mentioned it.

“My abuelo [grandpa] likes Mercedes! He says I'm gonna be like Lewis!” The young boy continued to rant as Y/n watched, furrowing up her eyebrows.

“Dios mío, [my God] I didn’t realize at all.” She sighed with wide eyes. She had an apologetic smile as her hands rested on her son's shoulders. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Toto interrupted her, waving his hand around as he turned to Santiago. “When you’re old enough, tell your pretty mamá to give me a call, hm? Maybe you and Jack can be teammates.”

Ar the mention of being teammates with his best friend, Santiago let out a cheer as the youngest Wolff followed him in cheer. The sudden compliment caused Y/n’s cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

“I-uh-,” She coughed to clear her throat, “We have to go. Gotta make sure Santiago is all prepared before the race, right?” She chuckled, watching the curly-haired boy chat away with Jack.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” Susie quickly said before the young mother could leave. Y/n hums in response as the blonde glances at her husband and back at her. “Are you busy tonight?”

“After the race? No.” Y/n replied, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Was just gonna order takeout for Santi and me. Why?”

“Come over for dinner at ours.” Toto quickly offered. His offer made her raise her eyebrows in shock as their two sons looked up excitedly.

“A gorgeous lady like you shouldn’t be alone. Come by ours, yeah?” Susie said with a smile, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle as she nodded in agreement, keeping her eyes on Susie and Toto. “Y-yeah! That sounds amazing.“ She reached into her bag and found a pen and a random piece of paper. She scribbled her number down quickly before handing it to the blonde.

“Just call me. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely call,” Toto said, another smirk appearing on his lips as he looked over Susie’s shoulder at the paper.

Y/n shared another smile with them before grabbing Santiago. The two quickly said goodbye before walking off to prepare the young boy for his race. In reality, she was also preparing herself for dinner with the attractive older couple she just met at her son's karting race. She mumbled to herself, “Ay Dios mío.” [oh my God]

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff scenarios #toto wolff x reader x susie wolff

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wyn-n-tonic · 2 years

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I'm No Saint

Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Smut but not, like, explicit smut I don't think. Author's Note: Right, so like... it's not xReader because it's not written in second person but, like, it's still a pretty blank slate and I personally feel like first person tense is easier to imagine yourself in as the I and me statements make me feel like I have ownership and autonomy in the story? Anyway, if you enjoy this and would like to check out more of my writing, please check out my MASTERLIST and my original story available on Kindle Vella: Flash In the Pan (a new chapter comes out 8/1)! *narrator voice* She's back on her bullshit, lads.

"Mm, 'tiago, baby," I reach out for him, my finger tips brushing the scar that runs the length of his neck. "What's wrong?"

The mattress shifts beneath his weight and I watch through half opened eyes as he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Go back to sleep, mi amor," he says as he turns towards me. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Uneven breathing and tossing and turning? Darling, don't lie to me."

"Don't." He huffs a laugh and his head shakes. "Don't you start with that darling nonsense because—“

"Because what?" I sit up, holding onto the sheet across my bare chest with one hand as the other supports my weight.

Dim light flows from the bathroom and catches on the silver of his hair, more of which pops up every day with each new stressor or heartbreak or bad dream. I hate how much I love them, knowing it's not just his age that causes them but his pain too.

"Because first it starts with darling," he says, silhouette turning towards me. "And then it becomes honey and sweetheart and let me make you some tea. I can't take it, not tonight. I can't take being—“

"Loved, Santiago?" I ask him.

"Babied," he insists.

"Babied?!" I push myself up further and let the sheet slip as I reach for his shoulder. "How do I baby you, Santiago?"

"Because you won't stop trying to take care of me," he bites back. "Always, with your soft hands and soft voice. I'm not broken."

"Nobody ever said you were broken, my love. Maybe you did, maybe you do. But not me. If you were broken—somebody I thought I had to spend my life fixing—I would not have married you, I would have—“

"Put me in a fucking psych ward. Or a prison. Where I belong."

"You're being dramatic, Santi. Fucking prison? Really? The people who belong in prison are the ones who called the shots, not the ones who had to deliver them. Do I wish you had never enlisted? Do I miss the sweet boy I fell in love with at sixteen?" I pull him back flush against my chest, wrap my arms around him and press my lips into his cheek. "Yes, my love. To both questions. But I wouldn't give you up for anything. But I have to wonder...if you hadn't enlisted, would we be here right now? Would I have ever found my way back to you?"

He pulls away and turns to look at me with those deep brown eyes, so full of warmth and glassy with pain. "You're not the cold man you think everybody thinks you are, Santiago."

Silence falls between us and I watch as he scrubs a hand down his face, finally releasing a deeply held breath. "I'm kind of cold right now actually," he says while a smile cracks across his face. "Why do you insist on keeping it freezing in here?"

"You're changing the subject."

"I know but I can tell I said something that hurt you so I'm trying to walk away from it right now, okay?"

"Okay."

He looks me up and down and his smile stretches wider. "I can tell you're kind of cold too, sweetheart."

"Really?" I ask him. "You're turning this into a sex thing?"

He twists and leans forward, pressing his lips into mine. "Don't all my bad dreams end between your legs though?"

"That makes me sound like I'm your nightmare," I tell him. "Is that really how you expect to get in pants right now?"

Santiago pushes me back into the mattress and crawls above my body, bracing himself on his forearms. He's so beautiful and so... bent in places he wasn't when we were children. His hand smooths my hair back, thumb rubbing gently against my forehead and I can feel him growing against my hip.

"I'm telling you that you're the good that came out of my worst nightmare and you're the good that greets me at the end of every single one."

"And, yet," I begin, tracing the soft lines at the corner of his eye with my thumb, "here you are telling me I baby you because I love you."

"Because I don't deserve it."

I shake my head. "Maybe not." I run my finger around his orbital bone and up to the bridge of his nose before following the curve of it all the way down to the tip. "But that's not exactly your decision to make now is it?"

"Well then maybe I just think you don't deserve the shit I put you through."

I scrunch my nose. "Again, not really your decision to make. Like it or not, you're stuck with me so, are you gonna do anything with that dick or are you gonna tell me what a sad boy you are all night?"

"Screw you, sweetheart."

"That's what I said."

He buries his face into my neck, shifting all his weight into one side of his body and runs one hand down the length of mine. He stops when he comes to the hinge in my knee, fingers curling around and dipping into my flesh and he pulls until I'm hooked around his hip. Leapfrog. He calls it leapfrog whenever my leg is raised like this. Tells me how cute it is that I just naturally lay in this position that opens my hip so perfectly for him to just slide in.

"Made for me," he speaks into my neck. "Like it or not."

His hips move against mine, lifting slightly as he readjusts himself to rest his tip at my entrance and his grip on my leg tightens. "So wet already."

"I never dried up."

"That shouldn't have been so fucking hot," he says, biting into my neck as he pushes into me in one fluid motion.

"Is your solution to hurting," I wince slightly, "to make me hurt as well?"

He laughs, lips dragging up my jawline and to my lips. "Play with my hair," he tells me as he starts building pace in his small movements.

His hair is soft between my fingers, his overgrown curls running wild. I flex my nails along his scalp and pull the strands taut at the top of his crown as he grinds his hips down against mine.

His mind is still in that dream though, that terror. I can see it in his eyes. Because I can't fix this, I can only be his bandaid to the bad days. My body goes rigid and I push a hard breath out before he's shuddering against me, collapsing against me.

I've been a lot of bandaids lately.

"Santiago, my love," I cradle his head against my chest and feel him twitch inside of me at the endearment, "I think we should talk to that therapist again."

He nods as best he can and sniffs loudly as he maneuvers his arms to encircle my body. "Yeah, we can do that."

Silence falls between us again and his breathing evens out. I think he's asleep and I'm about to coax him awake when he looks up at me.

"Hey, baby?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I liked it when you called me Tiago earlier." I feel my eyebrows pinch and he stutters over his words to continue. "When you were barely awake," he says, "you called me Tiago. I liked that."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because," he takes a breath, "I'm no saint."

#santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #soft santi sunday

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