#santiago x reader

[pedge-page]

Happy Hour

Part 1 to the Sharing is Caring series

Frankie Morales x F!reader free-use with the triple frontier boys

Summary: Frankie loves using and abusing his free-use pass with you. He’s got no problem introducing it to the rest of the guys.

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Voyuerism, Cucking, free use, unprotected sex, male masturbation, oral m-receiving, assisted masturbation, using beer bottles as dildos, indirect pussy eating (?), slight breeding kink, language

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Frankie invited the boys over for the summer kickoff Barbecue in your backyard. You spent all day preparing snacks and side dishes, setting up yard games and helping clean the pool, all the while getting praises by Frankie who found every opportunity to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you all over. 

"You get enough beer for tonight?" He asks, nuzzling his nose against your neck, pressing kisses over your shoulder. 

"Yup. I almost cleared out the shelf. You boys gonna have a good time, I’ll take care of everything else.” You lay your hand over top his which were caressing your lower tummy affectionately. 

With how busy things had been getting recently, you wanted Frankie to get together with his friends again. He had thrown you such a wonderful girls night-in when you had your girl friends over last month, so making sure he and his buds were well taken care of tonight was your top priority. 

“I think you'll have some fun too." 

Frankie continues to nip at your exposed skin, his hand drafting up to the exposure of your off-shoulder frilly blouse, tugging it down with one finger. "Frankie, stop, I'm still cooking."

He ignores you, slipping his hand inside the elastic band and palming your breast, his hips pinning yours to the counter as he rubbed his hard-on against your ass. "Gonna do everything I ask of you tonight, aren't you?" His breathes huskily into your ear. 

You remained tight lipped, unsure of what he had planned tonight, but having some ideas as to the sexual acts he'll want to get away with. You felt heat pool in your lower stomach at the idea of fucking in the powder room while the boys were outside, or having him finger you under the table while they ate. He's been pushing his free-use license further and further, making you simultaneously nervous and excited at how far he intends to use you for his pleasure.

"They'll...be here... any minute..." you whine, your body caving in to his touches as you breathe heavier. You feel his fat fingers dip below your naval, through the lining of your skirt and down your panties, fingering your clit softly to work your arousal.

"Nothing they haven't seen before, baby mamma," he groans. He removed his hand from between your thighs, bringing its stickiness up to dance on your lips. Your mouth happily parts at the intrusion and suck your arousal from his digits. He lifts your skirt above your hips, splaying your panty-clad ass on display, his lips never leaving your neck or cheek.

"Not a baby mamma yet, that's your job to make happen remember?" You smile, turning your head to lock your lips together. You feel a tap on your thigh and lift your leg to aid in his removal of your panties. He stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'm keeping these, need you nice and wet for us tonight."

The doorbell rings, and Frankie backs away from you abruptly, leaving you wide eyed, back now cold. The faint breeze from the open window whistling under your skirt and between your damp, exposed pussy. "Us?"

- - - - 

Frankie greets each of the guys with a long awaited hug as they enter your home together. You tried to act like you're not dripping between your thighs as you kiss and cautiously hug each of them. It was Benny who scooped you up in his arms and twirled you around, your skirt lifting enough to show the lower half of your bare ass. 

Santi bit his lip at the sight. “Keeping Fish good company I hope?” He asks as Benny set you down with a fat kiss to your cheek. 

You hastily bring your skirt lower, tugging it down. “It’s been pretty smooth sailing since the wedding, hasn’t it?” 

Frankie's hand skims the back of your rear, hand lifting your skirt back up over the side of your thigh, pulling you in to him like a little prize, fully well knowing everyone got a good look at you. “It’s been more than great,” he says. You could help but blush at the way he beamed at you with adoration. "Beer anyone?"

They pile into the backyard, sorting through the cooler of assorted bottles and cans while you sift through the kitchen drawers for an opener. You could overhear indistinguishable chatter from the group, their occasional glances back towards you in the house. 

"Found it!" You call out, skipping out to the yard. "Let me," you offer, grabbing each beer from their hand and popping off the lid. 

"Sweet of you, baby, thank you." Frankie kisses the side of your head. Then his voice changes an octave lower, whispering lowly into your ear: "Go sit on the chair right there and put your heels on the seat."

You shiver, pulling away to stare back at him incredulously. His face told you he wasn't playing, that this was the first of many things he'd be asking of you tonight. You gulp and did as he said, settling uncomfortably in the plastic lawn chair and bringing your knees up to your chest, desperate to keep your ankles together and closed so everyone couldn't see right your bare pussy behind your ankles.

Frankie leans next to you, bottle in hand. "Don't be shy. Spread 'em."

Your face felt hot red as Benny, Will, Santi and Frankie eyes bore down on your anxious figure. You muster up your courage and boldly spread your legs wide, skirt falling from your thighs entirely to your hip, glittering cunt now open wide for the entire backyard. 

Benny whistles lowly. "Never gonna get tired of that pretty view. Damn. Lucky bastard.”

Frankie grimaces proudly, his hand cupping your jaw affectionately like a pet. "Keep 'em spread for us, okay babygirl?"

You nod, clit twitching at his praise, not even noticing when he hitches the rim of his bottle at your entrance. Your brows furrow, never breaking eye contact with his beautiful brown eyes as he pushed the bottles neck into your pussy, your arousal making it easy for the object to slide right through.

"Holy fuck," Will coughs, watching the way you cunt greedily swallows the tip with ease. 

Frankie thrusts it in a bit, making you stutter your breaths with the increased fullness pressing inside, hands fisting the chair's armrests. He was coating the bottle and its contents inside with your juices, fucking you like it was a toy. He notices the resistance when your walls squeezed around its neck, smirking to himself, knowing you were comfortable and enjoying this with him.

Too soon, he slips it out of you, your hips slightly canter forward to chase the object that was just buried inside you. You felt empty, needy, denied. 

Frankie smirks at your helpless state ad he brought the beer to his lips and titled back, chugging the new flavor of alcohol. "Tastes better like that," he says, licking his lips clean of your taste. 

----

Frankie watches as you eagerly spread your legs further, leaning back in your chair with confidence so that your cunt hangs out in the open off the edge as each of the guys line up to coat their drinks in your pussy. The way your breath quickens, with each intrusion, how you lick your lips and look down at the sight of it disappearing into you, the mix of gentleness and roughness that came with each boy’s individuality—it drove him crazy how much you let him do this. 

Santi rubs your cheek soothingly, very passionately fucking his bottle into you while never breaking your eye contact. You giggle along with him, rocking your hips with his steady thrusts until he pulls out and takes a long sip. 

Will is far more gentle, rubbing the inside of your thigh with the pad of his thumb. He nudges your pearly clit with the rip, only swirling the top at the most shallow base of your walls. He likes the way you whine, wanting more, but his hand on your thigh is quick to keep you in your place. He slips the edge of the bottle along your folds to gather your dripping juices before retreat, giving you a little wink.

Benny dropsy to his knees, excited to have you so open for him.

“Be nice, Ben. That’s my wife you got there,” Frankie warns.

Benny rolls his eyes, pouting as his visible excitement tones down. You cup his face, knowing Frankie’s threat is a load of BS. “Don’t worry, Benny, you have your taste the way you like it.” You spread your legs even further, ankles now dangling over the arm rest, the cool breeze of the backyard swooshing through your folds. 

Benny pushes his beer in as far as he can, making you gasp. You grab his shoulder to steady yourself as you rock your hips back and forth, letting his hands remain where it is while you fucked your exposed pussy on the neck of the bottle. He rams further inside, the body of the bottle beginning to stretch your cunt.

Benny’s eyes were wide, unsure if he wanted to watch your facial expressions or the scene between your legs. After a few more playful dips, he pulls out, immediately mouthing around the bottle and suckling every drop of your juices around the neck, with little interest of the actual liquid in the bottle. 

The boys spend the evening standing around the grill, all taking turns to use you like a glorified bottle opener. Frankie keeps your panties tucked in the back of his pockets the entire time. He occasionally checks in on your reactions, making sure you’re still laughing and accepting their actions.

They came back after each sip, some taking extra care to fuck you with the bottle, hoping to get you to cum, other times just to get a fresh coating. Frankie watches your expressions each time, the way your jaw hangs open slightly, biting your tongue, quiet moans making their way to his ears. And each time, he forces the boys to stop, leaving your clenching around nothing, frustrated but wet beyond belief. He wanted you dripping, needy all night so they could get the most out of your gushing cunt. 

At one point, you had to get up to serve their food, making them all sit around the rounded patio table and dishing their plates one at a time. Frankie helps place the portions on each plate as you take it to the table before sitting down himself. His hand runs up along your smooth thigh, skirt lifting with his wrist as he inches high and higher, before squeezing your ass possessively, looking up at you. You pinch his nose and move around the table, making sure all the guys have filled drinks.

You didn’t have your own “seat” at the table, instead going around to each of the guy’s laps and eating bits off their plate. While they ate with one hand, the other held a bottle, thrusting in and out of your spread thighs over their leg. 

You currently had your arm draped over Will’s shoulder, spread open  next to the table as he bounced you in his lap, his bottle nudging the sweet spot inside you. He split his attention evenly between Frankie and you. 

The copious amount of alcohol in everyone’s system, including Frankie’s, made the rules of your use a little more lax. That—and they were all so pussy drunk off your juices mingling on their tongues, they couldn’t keep their hands off you.

You kissed along Will’s cheek, nipping his jawline and tracing patterns on his throat with your tongue as he fucked you on his beer. His languid thrusts making you feel hazy. The man had an exceptional talent at knowing the exact pace and pristine jolts to hold you on edge forever. He gave you soft smiles with sincere eye contact that made you flutter. “You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers in your ear. 

Santi was a little cheekier, eagerly pulling you down on his lap. He taps the inside of your thigh, urging you to spread fast so he could get his drink between your legs. “This cunt is still so tight, hermosa. Frankie Papi not taking care of you enough?” he asks brow raising with a challenge towards Fish. Before you can deny him, he blows hot breath against your ear before biting the lobe, making you squeal quietly as he quickly thrusts his 11th bottle of the night into your waiting heat. He continues to dot his lips against your skin, nipping your collar bone. You can see Frankie’s eyes narrow on you two but he doesn’t say anything, letting his conversation with Will continue. His aligns his head perfectly over your top, peering down at your tits. He groans softly at the little jiggles of your supply mounds with each little thrust in to you.

You look over to Benny, who’s got no care to Will and Frankie’s convo and is instead anxiously bouncing his leg, dying to get you on him for his turn.

“Oop, I gotta take care of the baby boy,” you say quietly into Santi’s ear. He pouts briefly, rubs your clit with his thumb under the table so no one else can see. You bite your lips, wide eyed but aroused. He eventually lets you up.

Benny grabs your waist with strong hands and lifts you on to his muscular thigh. 

“Eager?” You tease. You rub your hand over his strong abs and chest, grabbing his beef for him and putting right along your folds, waiting patiently for him to take charge. He doesn’t. “Want you to do it for me,” he says, smirking. You kiss his cheek and notch the beer into your cunt, moaning wantonly right in his ear. He shivers with arousal, bouncing the knee you’re perched on, the bottle neck slipping deeper inside you. His hand gropes your ass cheek, keeping you upright on him while his other arm feeds himself potato salad. he makes a poor attempt to shovel it in his mouth, dropping bits of it along your chest and down your tits.

“Making a mess on my girl, Benny,” Frankie chuckles.

Benny shrugs. Conveniently left with no more free hands, he dips his mouth down to your chest and licks a long stripe along the skin, slurping up the remnants of sticky food on you. You tilt back and laugh drunkly, fisting the bottle and shoving deep inside your cunt, panting breathlessly as your other hand messily rubs his blonde curls like a dog.

You suddenly glance back at Frankie, who is shaking his head at you in disapproval. Not from one of his buds eating food off your tit, but from your less than sneaky trial of trying to finally make yourself cum on the bottle. You pout, draw the neck out of your messy cunt, feeling your little nub twitch with remote. You’re making a big show of innocent eyes at your husband who’s been simultaneously ensuring you are both taken care of and neglected all night.

Frankie raises his hand and curls his finger at you in a come hither motion. You slide off of Benny’s lap guiltily, striding over to him in the sexiest walk you could muster. Chatter had died down as all eyes rested on you standing over Frankie.  

He stares up at you, rolling your skirt over your ass so everyone could see. He presses a soft kiss to your throbbing clit, tasting a mixture of your sweet juices and the different brands and flavors of beer that have been inside you all night. You whine, trying not to flinch too hard at how desperate you need him to make you cum.

He pats your ass assertively. “You been good tonight so far.”

The power he possesses over you was something to behold: despite standing over him, and looking down upon him, his voice and eyes carried such a dominant force against you that it was clear to everyone else how much you not only submit to him, but how much you like doing so.

“Everyone else getting taken care of real good except me. That doesn’t seem right, does it, Querida?”

You shake your head. You knew the drill, knew the devious look in his eyes. His darkened expression points down to the ground only once. 

Without missing a beat, you sink down to your knees on the grass, delicate hands immediately rubbings along his sturdy thighs in his khakis until you came upon the bulge in his pants. You rub your palm over, pressing your face to it, feeling the scratchiness of the material roll against your cheek. You give it a chaste kiss before unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down, freeing his erect cock. 

When you finally push his tip past your tight lips, Frankie sighs relief before starting up the group’s conversation again. The boys shifted in their seats with their evident respective bulges pressing uncomfortably between their legs. They tried to respond respectfully to Fish, occasionally darting glances at you between his legs, working his length in and out of your skilled mouth. The little sucking noises from you interrupted his speech but he made no show of acknowledging you while you sucked his fat cock deep into your throat.

You could hear little coughs and grunts from the others, none of which sounded perturbed. They were all entranced by you, your obedience, submission to Frankie. Santi “dropped” his fork below the table, hunching over to get a good look at you with his mouth agape at the sight: resting back on your haunches, your glistening pussy dripping into the grass as you bobbed your head, hands resting on his knees to keep you from taking it all and choking on it.

He licks his lips and sits up, worried he took too long. Frankie catches his eye and mouths Does she look good? 

Santi nods energetically. 

Fish smirks, taking the opportunity to push the back of your head further onto his cock, making you gag loudly in surprise. Benny and Will’s voices go quiet as Frankie starts slowly forcing his cock deeper in your mouth, making you more verbal in your choking. When he releases the pressure, you pull up so that just the tip is suctioned between your lips, moaning obscenely. Your eyes are closed in bliss, taking him back down and returning your rhythmic bobbing. 

After a few minutes, Frankie’s breaths are coming out short. He’s having a hard time paying attention to what the guys were saying. Just between the two of you, he gently caresses your jaw, letting his cock fall out of your mouth. You stare up at him, slightly teary eyed but full of lust and obsession. “My perfect little whore of a wife,” he mumbles affectionately. “Get up here and make me proud.”

You giddily climb to your feet and throw one leg over his strong thighs, sighing loudly as you straddling him. The texture of his pants feels heavenly against your neglected clit, rubbings your slick folds along his thighs with an arched back, ass peaking out for the boys to once again get a nice show.

Frankie taps your ass again, making you sit upright. He positions the swollen red tip of his member at your wet entrance. You sink down, taking his cock entirely in one motion. The hot, fat pressure of his cock stretching you fuller, deeper than any of the beer bottles could ever reach immediately has your eyes rolling, moaning out loud like a fucking whore as your body shakes, squeezing his dick tightly while your first powerful orgasm of the night washes over you. 

He holds you tight as you spasm through it. “Oh shit—she just came,” Frankie laughs.

“Oh fuck. Didn’t even have to fuck that delicious cunt.”

“That’s hot, Fish. She was so desperate for it.”

“Fuck I’m jealous. I want me a wife like that.”

You continue to gently hump him, their praises falling deaf to your ear. His large, strong body felt good to relax in, putting your weight on top of him with no care as you chase your pleasure Hips swaying of their own accord as you whimper through the aftershocks, arms thrown wrapped over his shoulders.

He strokes your back soothingly. He wants you to settle from your much needed orgasm first. Frankie sits back a little bit, letting you lean forward. The guys are practically standing over the table, desperate to see the space where their friend’s well endowed cock is joined to his wife’s tight and pretty cunt.

He has the audacity to ask the guys if they’d seen the game this past Sunday, resuming their conversation as you continue to pickup pace. You roll your hips along his length, the delicious drag of his cock sliding in and out of you leaving you dumb on him, face pressed tight against his collar while he talks casually over your shoulder. 

When Frankie starts to clench the meat of your hips and pull you down on his length a little harder, neither he nor anyone else at the table cares to talk anymore. He makes sure to fist your skirt over your waist as he drills his meaty girth up into you. They all stare, unblinking, at some point all having whipped their stiff cocks out and stroking furiously.

Frankie gets lost in your tight heat. You couldn’t care about the fact that the boys were jerking off to you and their best friend fucking—your focus was entirely on making your husband spill his sperm deep inside you. 

The squelching sound of your pussy slapping down and your breathy moans can only be heard in your private backyard among your closets guests. He can feel the dampness seeping into his pants, darkening the fabric with each splatsplatsplat of your ass slamming down on his thighs.

“Did I tell ya’ll? We’re trying to get pregnant,” Frankie boasts proudly. He doesn’t stop the way his hips canter up overly excited to share that detail, hitting that spongy spot he had been purposely avoiding all night. A surprised yell escapes your lips, tightening around him in a vice grip. Soon after, you’re both cumming together, releasing long drawn out satisfied groans into each other’s open mouths as your sweet pussy milks him, the pulses of his member filling your womb with his milky seed.

The rest of the boys cum hardly a second later, pumping their veiny cocks furiously at the sight of Frankie’s pearly spend dripping from where the two of you are still connected. Through gritted teeth, they wring out the last dribbles of their cum before everyone is sitting back, panting hard, softened and relieved dicks resting against their full bellies.  

 - - - - 

Notes: I just wanna say don’t fuck yourself with objects that aren’t specifically designed for sex, especially foods or alcohol, because you know… infections. That should be a given. 

-

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@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse

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#pedro pascal smut #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morlaes smut #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #santiago x reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller smut #santiago garcia smut #will miller smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader

[pimosworld]

Company

Pairing -triple frontier boys x f!reader

Content warnings-18+,MDNI,NSFW, piv sex,oral sex, public sex,mentions of ptsd,light angst,fluff,smut. Explicit, this is an established poly relationship

Summary- sexually frustrated reader gets lost in thoughts about her boys.

wc-3.8k

Notes- this is my first fic ever so please feel free to comment with suggestions. I’ve been putting off writing for so long and I’m nervous to post but so excited. I hope you enjoy!

You’re not sure why the drive home is so quiet, Benny had won his fight after all. Even though it was off a technicality, he still won fair and square. Usually he’s buzzing with excitement after a win but right now, as you’re sandwiched between him and Santi in the backseat of the Jeep, you can tell he’s fuming. The heat radiating off his body should have long dissipated it’s been nearly an hour since he’d won.

Earlier in the locker room

“I know it’s not the way you wanted to win but we’re all still proud of you babe.”

It’s just him and you leaning against the wall inside the locker rooms. The rest of the boys are out grabbing beers, and are likely having the same conversation you’re having right now. He’s got a far away stare in his eyes that you’ve seen before, but not since your days in delta. That was years ago, and now you just want to kiss his face and tell him everything is okay. You won’t though because even though he won and he knows you always take care of him after a win, the only thing he’s said to you since you joined him in the locker room was that he didn’t want any company tonight.

It stings a little even though it shouldn’t. He’s entitled to want some space, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you are being a little selfish brat at the moment. It’s not entirely your fault when after a win he’s usually got you pressed against the lockers with your skirt bunched up around your torso, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands on his bare shoulders. His strength after a fight is always surprising. Normally at this point, he’s holding you up with ease as he roughly fucks you against the lockers with your muffled cries of pleasure getting lost into the crook of his neck. His cock would be slammings into you over and over until you both reach your peak together. Jesus Christ you need to get a grip because you're having flashbacks about the man that is right next to you, and clearly upset.

Is your brain seriously letting you be this ridiculous? You live with 3 other men who are fully capable of keeping you company tonight. There’s just something about Benny after a fight that you can’t shake the feeling, the craving you have for him. That hungry look in his eyes when he has you laid out on the bench with his head between your thighs. He kisses your thighs and runs his tongue slowly up to your aching center,as if he’s forgotten he’s in a locker room and you most definitely can’t take your time. But he always does with you, he slowly licks your folds, his tongue feels hot compared to the cold bench on your back. The duael sensations are driving you mad. He nips at your clit and you look down at him almost in protest but those piercing blue eyes look back at you and he has this shit eating grin on his face. It’s the one you love and know when he’s being playful, he just wants to make sure you’re still here with him. He continues circling your clit with his tongue and you know you’re dripping down onto the bench beneath you. You’re desperately trying to be quiet but he adds a finger into you and you lose all train of thought as he fucks into you at a rapid pace, his tongue flicks your clit and a chill runs down your spine as you lose all sense of where you are. Your quiet whimpers have now turned into louder moans of his name.

Jesus fucking Christ you’re doing it again, get a grip. You can survive one night without Benny.

You will just have to torture one of the others with your frustrations, and how fun might that be?

As your thoughts drift back to the present, you’re in the car and you can see that Will has fallen asleep in the front seat. He’s been training Ben all week and is likely exhausted and a bit frustrated as well with the results. Will hates technicality wins because it messes with his overall record. Ben has been fighting for so long now it’s mostly knockouts across the board. Will is calculated and calm, he always has been. He’s the perfect trainer to juxtapose Benny’s fired up demeanor.

He was very calculated just two mornings ago when he fucked you in the kitchen. You both had a restless night sleep so you found yourselves bright and early in the kitchen enjoying your coffee together like a domestic couple in the suburbs. Except you weren’t a domestic couple by any means were you? No, both of you are in a full on relationship with 3 other people, both e your black coffee in your shared home at 5 am because you both had nightmares ( you all have nightmares) from your time in delta, and from your various other illegal activities after leaving the service.

You hate the restless nights but you love mornings like this, where the two of you, and sometimes all five of you,can enjoy your black coffee in silence, like the silent trained killers that you are (were?). That doesn’t matter, that’s just a joke between you and Santiago anyway.

“Are you done with your coffee?” Will asks with that sultry drawl of his voice still lazy with the lack of sleep.

You don’t answer but you slowly set your cup down on the granite countertop. He tilts his head and levels you with those blue eyes you’ve grown to love over the years. He’s let his hair grow out since leaving the service and his beard comes in nicely just slightly darker than his blonde hair that you love to pull when things get intimate. He stalks towards you in his gray sweatpants and crisp white, and too tight, t-shirt. You still haven’t answered him as he cages you against the cold counter top. You can feel the hard press of his cock against your abdomen in your thin oversized army T shirt. Is it yours? You’re not even sure anymore, it’s probably Frankie’s shirt but Will doesn’t care. He obviously doesn’t mind sharing.

He slowly grabs the hem of the shirt, his fingers dancing against your thighs. He raises his eyebrow at you asking for permission because of course it’s Will. You take his hands away from your shirt and quickly toss it over your head as it lands somewhere to your left to be found later. He stills in front of you taking in your naked form.

“ No panties or bra?” He asks you another question as if you’ve answered the first question.

What was the first question? He wastes no time lifting you onto the cold counter top. He kisses your neck and slowly drags his tongue down the line until he reaches your nipple, taking his time sucking and using his hand to grab the other breast and squeeze, brushing his thumb across your nipple. Your whole body is alight with goosebumps now, and pretty much anytime, Will ever touches you.

Before you can finish recanting your thoughts of the other morning you’re rudely interrupted by Santi poking you in the rib.

“Ouch what the fuck!”

“Calm down Honey I barely poked you!”

Even in the darkness of the car you can see his piercing gaze and his shit eating grin.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out why you poked me?” You say sassier than you wanted and return the grin in favor with slightly more of a smile than you wanted .

Frankie chimes in from the drive’rs seat

He asked you a question? When? You can’t even remember with your thoughts so caught up in fantasizing about the men you lived with.

“Hermosaaaaa, are you still with us?” Frankie’s eyes are somehow on you in the rear view mirror and paying attention to the road at the same time.

“We’ll I’ve got your attention now so I’ll ask again” Pope says in a bit of high pitched annoyance. “Which one of us is your favorite?”

You scoff at the idea that you would even answer let alone think that this stupid question is what pulled you from your thoughts of you and Will the other morning.

“ Do you actually think she would answer that?” Ben chimes in from beside you and you notice some of the heat and annoyance has dissipated from his demeanor.

He now seems more relaxed, shoulders less tense. You relax a little at the sight of your Benny returning to you. Still, you will give him his space tonight because he asked and you will always respect their space. That’s the only way this all works…respect.

“ You know I’m not answering that, and besides you all annoy me with equal vigor so I couldn’t possibly have a favorite.””.

Without turning to face Santi, you dart out your right hand to poke him in the ribs but he catches your wrist and stops you full force. You wouldn’t dare turn your head to see the fucking Cheshire Cat smiling back at you in the darkness of the car. You already know he’s proud of himself because his chuckling is reverberating through your hand that he still has clasped in his grip.

He leans in real close to your ear ( not helping your predicament) you can smell the musky cologne and the faint smell of beer.

“Ah ah ah, gotta be quicker than that,” he says playfully, still sensing your annoyance.

You rip your wrist out of his grasp and huff in frustration, as you glance back at the front seat and see Will still sound asleep. It warms your heart because sleep is hard to come by sometimes, and Will could certainly use some shut-eye.

So you’re obviously checking Will off your list of who will be your victim tonight. Between his long week and the way Frankie drives, anyone was bound to fall asleep.

Your thoughts perk up thinking of Frankie, as you watch him drive with such ease and control. The broadness of his shoulders as he lazily turns the wheel onto a familiar street. He always has such control when it comes to anything besides you. He would gladly lose control for you. Just the thought of the first time you saw him fly a helicopter can make you cum. That’s what attracted you to him in the first place. Although you couldn’t believe how you had managed to be placed in delta force with the four hottest men in the world. it wasn’t really fair. You supposed that Tom kept things equal, statistically speaking, being the least attractive of them all.

Frankie could definitely ease your frustrations tonight. He could never say no to you, it seemed there wasn’t a time when he didn’t want you. Once again you find your thoughts drifting off to the other day. It was a hot humid day in Florida. The kind you hated because everything stuck to you in all the wrong places. The sweat seems never ending on days like this and the bugs won’t leave you alone. Benny and Will were busy training at the gym and Santi was holed up in his office. You didn’t bother him on those days because you knew his mind would often take him to dark places. It had rained quite a bit the night before, and you knew the rain always brought thoughts of Columbia. He always took it the hardest and so you would leave him be for now.

That left you and Frankie to make what you could of this day and you knew he would do anything for you, and with you. The day had started off innocently enough, the two of you deciding to go to the beach.

Once you’ve arrived at the beach you quickly realize your mistake…everyone else in Florida had the same idea, and you and Frankie audibly groan at the sight of what feels likea thousand cars and a million people. Neither of you are in the mood for large crowds .

“What do you think Honey?”

You glance at Frankie in the driver’s seat and can’t help but smile. He tries so hard for you, you can see his smile lines have deepened over the years and his cap that perfectly frames his curls has faded slightly. You place your hand gently on his arm that’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight and notice the blue shirt he’s wearing hugging his bicep.

“Let’s go home “ you try to say with conviction so that he thinks you’re not upset in the slightest.

“I feel bad we came all this way,” “ he says as he pulls onto the road and you notice his frown. You just want to pull him into a kiss so that he never makes that face again.

“ I really am enjoying watching you drive so it’s not a total waste.””. You throw a wink his way and see that smile return that you love so much. You decide to just enjoy the drive and the only breeze you’ll get all day with the windows down.

He keeps glancing over at you but you’re not sure he knows you can tell. You did wear his favorite sundress. It’s red with little blue flowers on it, t. Thin straps and a very low neckline that perfectly frames your breasts. The hem hits just above the knee, but with the way you’rer seated in the front, it’s slightly higher. He chances one more glance at you and you can’t help but tease a little.

“See something you like Morales?”

He doesn’t answer you but places his warm palm on your upper thigh. You’re both facing forward because you don’t dare look at him now, and of course he’s focused on the road. He inches his hand higher until his fingers dance across your aching center. Your breath hitches in your throat when he starts to rub circles on your clit with his calloused fingers.

“You’re so wet for me hermosa, just watching me drive get you like this?”

You don’t answer him but you slowly spread your thighs wider to give him room. He groans at the gesture and moves your panties to the side to drag a finger slowly up and down, your slick now coating his hand. He stills his movement at your slight whimper and chances a glance in your direction. Your breathing has become ragged and he watches your chest rise quickly trying to calm yourself. Reluctantly he pulls his hand away but you watch as he slowly brings his hand to his mouth and liocks his finger.

He looks back at the road and says in the most sultry tone you’ve ever heard grace his lips.

“If I don’t pull over I’m going to crash this fucking car.”

You smile to yourself, you don’t have much of an ego but it’s erotic to know how much you turn him on by just wearing a dress. They all can be very simple that way, and sometimes you find yourself drunk on the power that knowledge holds.

He drives for a while and you think maybe he was just talking but you start to not recognize your surroundings. The beach long in your rear view has now turned into long leaf pine trees, the smell is intoxicating. He’s definitely taking the long way home and you don’t mind at all. Before you can get caught up in scenery you notice he’s pulled off the main road, he nestled the Jeep between some trees. Just enough cover you think for what he has planned.

Between the nearly illegal tint on the Jeep and the trees you have plenty of privacy, although at the moment you don’t really care with how keyed up you are just from his fingers. Something about them being a vet lets them evade the tickets they would normally get for the darker than limo tint on the windows.

He carefully takes the keys out of the ignition, still not looking at you and carefully sets them in the cup holder. He slides his seat back to give you room (you assume). A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Something you’re grateful for amongst all of them. They always make you feel comforted without speaking. Yyou can be yourself and just sit in the silence. Their presence is a blanket of protection that washes over you each and every day.

“Come here” he says in his low, husky tone. ,iIt’s not a question, but more of a command.

In less time than it takes you to blink you’re in his lap, your thighs on either side of his. You make quick work of his belt and he lifts you with him to slide his pants down. Each time you see his impressive length it takes your breath away. Frankie usually takes his time working you up but you’re already so wet you don’t want to waste anymore time, or risk getting caught. He gasps at the touch of your soft hand as you line yourself up to slide down his cock. The stretch has you both panting like you’ve run for miles. You rest your head against his broad chest, while he grips your waist as tight as he was holding the steering wheel just moments ago.

“Pleas-“ you both pant in unison. Which causes a chuckle from both of you. Neither of you know what you’re asking of the other. Is he asking you to move? Are you asking him to move?

Suddenly a sharp pain in your ribs has ripped you from your thoughts of Frankie and harshly thrust you back into reality, ( which you think you’re starting to lose your grip on).

“Earth to honey” Santi says in a sing-song tone.

You don’t normally mind that they call you by your call sign, it’s always sweet and endearing. Right now though, with the way Santi has interrupted your lewd thoughts not once but twice you want to break the finger that keeps poking you in the ribs.

Just as you’re about to give him a piece of your mind, you hear a loud groan from the driver’s seat.

“You good Fish?” Santi asks with concern for his best friend, the person he would do anything in the world for.

“Ya hermano it’s fine, it’s just my back is killing me and I’m ready to get home and lay out.”

You internally groan…well shit Frankie is off the list of victims. You would never disturb him on a night where he’s in pain. You all have been through the ringer between the service and your post service activities, and it’s definitely taken a toll on your bodies…some more than others.

You turn to look at Santi and resume your conversation about what his problem is with your ribs when suddenly it dawns on you.

He should’ve been your chosen victim from the start, he’s always so smug and you rarely get the chance to return the favor of him edging you for what can seem like hours. It usually doesn’t take much temptation from you to get him going.

You slowly start to slide your hand up his thigh, running your fingers along the seam of his tight jeans that always show off his great ass. You’re inching higher and without looking at you, you can tell he’s letting you as he slowly spreads his leg. You palm at his half hard cock through his jeans and you hear a low groan from somewhere deep in his throat.

You just want to tease him until you get home and then you can do with him what you want for as long as you deem necessary.

He adjusts his feet to give you more room and suddenly you hear a hiss come from him. You withdraw your hand immediately, fearing that you hurt him somehow.

“Did I hurt you?” You whisper into his ear so that the others can’t hear you.

“No carinño, it’s just my knees are killing me after last night,” he says apologetically.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you say out loud accidentally instead of in your head, like you meant to.

The look of shock and horror is etched onto Santi’s face and you just want the car to swallow you whole. You glance at Frankie in the rear view mirror and he has a look of concern and shock as well. You look to your right at Benny and the look of amusement is spread wide across his face. At least something good has come out of your outburst . It seems that the Benny you know and love is back and is loving the predicament you’ve most certainly got yourself into.

He crosses his arms and levels you with a grin and he just knows somehow where your thoughts have been this entire trip home.

“Care to share your thoughts with the class hermosa?” Frankie says slightly less concerned, now that he can see the embarrassment written across your face.

“No,no it’s fine….I’m fine, I’ll be okay “ you’re trying to convince yourself. “I just need a really cold shower.””. You say as you let your head drop onto Benny’s shoulder.

“Well we’re almost home, do you think you can survive until then? He asks now completely amused with this whole situation that he’s clearly missed because he’s been safely trying to get you all home.

Probably not, you think to yourself this time instead of saying it out loud.

Who could survive being surrounded by these four men who on any occasion you could have your way with yet tonight, as if it’s some horrible joke, you can’t have any of them. You start to think that you’re being a bit of a brat again, but you’re too far gone to care.

You feel like a fairytale gone horribly wrong, instead of Snow White and the seven dwarves it’s Honey and the four mercenaries. Mopey, Sleepy, Achey, and Breaky.

You’re now audibly laughing and concern washes over the car again.

“What did I miss, what’s so funny?” Will chimes in from the front seat, now wide awake.

“Nothing, I just think we broke her.” Santi states from beside you, careful to watch your movements for any sudden jabs to the rib. He thinks your laughter is a distraction to sneak attack him but you’ve long forgotten all about him interrupting your thoughts.

As Frankie turns the last corner onto your street, you silently resign to yourself.

You’ll just have to keep your own company tonight.

@melodygatesauthor Thank you so much for proofreading and adding your lovely comments. It means so much to me 🥰

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[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

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

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

w/c: 6.6k

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

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

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

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

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

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

You readjust yourself nervously.

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

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

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

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

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

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

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

“Copy that.” 

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

“Stay sharp.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

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

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

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

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

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

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

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

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

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

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

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

“He needs help!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

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

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

“I’m going in.” 

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

Low blow, Midge. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

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

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

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

“How?” 

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

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

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

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

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

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

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

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

“Minor wounds.” 

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

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

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

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

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

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

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

“Yes, sir!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

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

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

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

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

“So wet. So needy.”

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

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

“Santiago, please.” 

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

“No, but--” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I know.” 

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

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

This again. “But Frankie--” 

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

“But I didn’t die.” 

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

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

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

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

“I promise.” 

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

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

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

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x you #santiago x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac smut #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfiction #moon knight #the thin line betweem victory and survival

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 20

You thought it would be just another dinner with Santiago, but it doesn't end like you expected it to.

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst. Hurtful words are thrown around. Themes of abandonment. Swearing. Mentions of unsupportive family members. I actually proofread this! But there’s probably still mistakes that I missed 😂. Word count: 3,304 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 19 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 21

It was supposed to be a usual dinner with Santiago.

But you knew something was off the moment he opened the door to his apartment, inviting you in. He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. He wasn’t talking much, and when he did respond to you, you were met with one-word answers, or just a grunt. You tried not to let it get to you, but you felt like you were imposing on his time, despite the fact that he had asked you to dinner.

It was weird. But he had been acting weird for weeks. Maybe it was because you were so close to giving birth. You only had two weeks left, after all, your lives were about to change forever. He even said so himself, he wasn’t ever expecting to have a family of his own. He was happy to just be by himself, so…maybe he was just nervous. There was no need to worry about it, he’d been there the whole time for you.

But it was obvious something was bothering him (and not just tonight, it had been going on for a while), and he felt like he couldn’t tell you, which hurt. You thought you were closer than that. You were supposed to trust each other with anything, since you’re going to be co-parenting. You didn’t want your kids to think that their mom and dad couldn’t talk to each other.

There was no avoiding it, you were going to ask him what was wrong. Tonight.

You make general small talk, which is weird for the two of you. You follow him into his kitchen where he offers you a water (he’s ran out of Diet Coke), and he turns his back to you to the sauce bubbling on the stove. You quietly sip at your drink as you watch him stir. Even now, as he’s just making food, he’s tense; his shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, and he’s holding that spoon just a bit too tightly.

“Santi, is everything okay?” you ask him, already knowing that it wasn’t.

He winces at your voice, almost as if he forgot you were there. He still doesn’t look at you as he answers, “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Fine.

There’s that word again. Every time you ask him if something is going on, it’s always ‘fine’.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think it is, Santi. You’ve been weird for weeks, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he says, finally looking at you with an uneasy look on his face.

“There is, Santi. Come on, you can tell me. We’ve talked about communication – “

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want you to know?”

Yikes, that stung. You blink at him a little, taken aback. “I-I mean, sure, but I just want you to know that you can be open with me and talk to me.”

He studies you for a moment before he shakes his head. “I can’t talk to you about this.”

He turns back to the sauce.

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t the right time.”

You frown at him and place your glass on the counter. You fold your arms as you watch him for a few moments. The silence in the kitchen weighs heavy before you break it with, “Okay.”

You don’t accept his answer, not one bit.

After a few more awkward minutes, the pasta is ready, and Santi is preparing a plate for you. He asks you shortly if you want cheese, or if you want another drink, and you shake your head at him before following him to his dining table. You sit opposite him, eating slowly as you keep glancing at him.

He’s asking you one-word questions on the food, not meeting your eyes when he does. It makes your heart sink. The last time he acted like this was when he thought you wanted to date and he was holding you back, back when you went shopping for baby clothes together and ran into Craig.

Surely now he still doesn’t think he was holding you back. But then why would he be arguing with his friends over something like that? Why would they even care about it? Unless Santi had told them something, or they have been pressuring him in some way. Why else would he engage in such heated discussions if there wasn't some underlying concern or conflict? The questions swirl in your mind, leaving you to ponder if they are somehow connected to your relationship with Santi, and its impact on yours and your babies’ life.

After a few more moments contemplating, you place your fork down before clearing your throat. “Santi, I only want to know what’s bothering you.”

“Por el amor de Dios,” Santi mutters, rolling his eyes as he slams the fork down on the table. He gives you a hard stare. “Just drop it, okay?”

“I don’t want to drop it,” you say, giving him a concerned look and you lean towards him slightly. “I’m worried about you! You’ve been arguing with Frankie and Will, that’s not like you – “

“How would you know, you’ve only known me eight months,” he snaps at you.

You balk at his reaction, leaning back from him. “That’s a long time, Santi, I like to think I know you pretty well.”

“No, eight months is in fact not a long time,” he snapped at you. There are a few moments of silence as you stare at one another, before Santi closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat. He buried his head in his hands, his elbows leaning on the table.

You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. You bite your lip and look down at your plate, all of a sudden not even remotely hungry. You look back up at him before going to stand. “I’ll get going, we can catch up again another time, when you’re feeling better.”

He doesn’t say anything to stop you as you gather your things, before you spot something at the end of the corridor. The nursery door, Santi’s old spare room, was slightly open, and you could just see a pile of unopened boxes. Your brow furrows before you glance at Santiago, and suddenly make your way down the hallway.

The calls of your name go ignored as you push open the nursery door, only to find that…it wasn’t ready. Sure, it had been painted like Santiago said it had been, and there was a feature wall of some jungle themed wallpaper, but…that was it. The room was bare. The furniture you had shopped for together was still in the boxes, collecting dust. You looked around the room, sudden tears in your eyes as you take in the fact that the room felt cold, and nowhere near as if a new family would be using it.

You turn quickly to look at Santiago, who had followed you down the hall. He had an exhausted look on his face as he awkwardly tucked his hands into his jean's pockets.

You take in a shaky breath from the tears and look back at the room. “It’s not done.” You look at him, worry sitting densely in your stomach. “It’s not done, Santi. They’re going to be here in two weeks, and you haven’t fixed up their room. Why isn’t it done?”

Santiago doesn’t answer for a moment before he sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

Your heart sinks. You try to regulate your breathing as you turn back and ask him, “Tell me what?”

He sighs before running a hand through his hair, looking at anything but you. He can’t seem to stop fidgeting. “I can’t do this.”

Oh…no.

He can’t mean what you thought, right? He just meant dinner tonight, he couldn’t do dinner. Maybe he wasn’t well and felt bad about cancelling. Yeah, that’s what he meant. It has to be.

But you know, deep down, you were wrong.

You try and play dumb. To give him the chance to take it back, to rethink what he just said, because really, he can’t be saying this to you right now. Not now. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t…do that,” he said, looking back at you with a stern look in his eyes as he shakes his head. “Don’t be an idiot, you know what I mean.”

He’s never been so harsh with you before. You give one final look around the room before squaring your shoulders and turning back to him. “So, what, you…you don’t want to be involved anymore? Is that what you’re saying?”

He hesitates for a moment before giving a single nod.

You can feel the slow anger building in your chest, your skin practically prickling with tension. How could he do this to you, now? The air becomes thick with unspoken words, each heartbeat within you resonates with the weight of the betrayal that has unfolded before you.

As Santiago’s gaze falters and you both just stare at each other with nothing to say, you find yourself grappling with the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you. The trust you once held for him now hangs precariously in the balance, and the echoes of disbelief reverberate through the room.

You had never imagined that this moment would arrive, not now, not at a time when trust and loyalty were vital. You look back on the last few months, trying to see where it had all gone wrong. Was it back when you discussed your dating life? From what you knew, he hadn’t been seeing anyone, seriously or otherwise. Did he feel trapped? Was it the almost kiss on Halloween? No, he started acting weird after Thanksgiving. So what brought him to this conclusion, that he didn’t want to be a father anymore, that you had spent all this time together planning, and working on yourselves and together to become parents? Was it the scare that you’d had?

You loved this man. Loved him. Oh, God, you can feel your heart breaking into a million pieces.

“This just…came at an inconvenient time – “ he starts again, the prolonged silence evidently becoming too much.

Your jaw sets and you glare at him, the bubbling in your chest erupting. “Oh, I'm so sorry, when would this,” you gesture to your bump. “Have been more convenient for you?”

He closes his eyes for a moment in exasperation. “Don’t be like that – “

“Be like what?” you ask, your gaze still hard on him. “Don’t be upset? Don’t be angry? You’ve just told me you don’t want to be a father to our kids anymore! How am I not supposed to be upset?”

“I know it…it’s bad, honey, I know – “

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you…you…” you gasp as you realise you’re crying. You reach up and touch your cheek, almost as if you’re shocked that you’re crying.

You’d never truly cried over a man before.

But it wasn’t just a man. It was your kids. Your babies, who would be here in two weeks, ones who you had planned a whole life for; to raise them in households full of love and warmth, where you thought their father would be a part of their lives. Where they would have three amazing uncles, who had welcomed you with open arms, who had helped you with your house.

Your heart stutters as you realise; they must have known. They must have known how Santiago was feeling when they organised your baby shower, when they were actually at your baby shower, when you were at Santiago’s place for Christmas…God, you bet they had a good laugh, knowing that you were being strung along. They knew he was planning on leaving you.

“When did…when did you plan to do this? When did you plan to leave me?” you ask him, wiping at your eyes harshly.

He swallows thickly before shaking his head. “I didn’t plan anything. It…look, it’s not important - “

“Yes, it is, Santiago,” you snap, pointing to your chest. “It’s important to me, to my kids!”

He watches you again, and you grit your teeth, trying not to look away from him. He looks you up and down before he matches your heated and tense energy, his arms crossing over his chest.

You scoff at him. “Really? You’re choosing to be quiet now?”

“I’m not cut out for this,” he says. “I’m not used to staying in one place for so long, and you’re a good ten years younger than me, you should be with someone your own age. This just wasn’t how I planned my life going, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you think I planned my life to go this way?” you ask him, starting to pace the small width of the hallway. “To get pregnant from a stranger after a one-night stand? I gave you every opportunity to leave when we found out about this – “

“Yeah, well, I should have left when you told me I could.”

You stop your pacing to look at him in disbelief. “Really?”

“You – and them – would be better off without me.”

“Oh don’t you spout that martyr bullshit on me,” you snap, finally stopping your pacing. You know you sound like a petulant teenager. But you’re angry. You’re fuming. “Is this because of Halloween? When we almost kissed?”

You see how he tenses. Neither of you had mentioned that night since it happened, having silently decided that it was the alcohol, that it wasn’t anything more to it than that.

He shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with Halloween.”

“Then it was Thanksgiving,” you say. “I took you away from your family, who you hadn’t seen in a while – “

“It has…” he starts, but he stops himself, running his hands down his face in frustration. “There is nothing specific that has happened, I’ve just had more time to think about it. And I don’t want it. I don’t want to be a dad.”

You’re crying again. “So all these months were just a lie? You were leading me on?”

“That is not what I was doing!” Santiago says defensively. “Don’t twist my words around!”

“I am two weeks away from having a C-section,” you cry. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!”

“I – “

“I should have fucking listened to you on our date. I should have seen this coming, really,” you say, giving a small, humourless laugh as you shake your head at yourself. “That you weren’t looking for anything serious, and there’s nothing more serious than two kids! And how you wouldn’t get rid of the truck – “

Santiago gives a loud, annoyed groan. “Again with the truck. Why does it always come back to the fucking truck? You’ve upturned my life enough, can I not keep something for myself?”

Something seems to snap in him then.

“You throw this huge bombshell on me, that not only are you pregnant, but it’s twins,” he says. “I had just come back to Florida after the worst year of my life, ready to have some normalcy, and I’m suddenly going to be a dad, with a woman who I barely know! And everyone seems to think I should be okay with it, to accept that this is my life now! And now my spare room is full of baby shit, my friends won’t stop talking about how much my life is going to change, and everyone keeps bombarding me about my truck. It’s my fucking truck, and it’s the only thing that I own that doesn’t even remotely have anything to do with a fucking baby!”

He stops, a little breathless. You stay silent after his outburst, and you look at each other silently before you both physically deflate. This is it. It’s over.

“So what?” you ask him. “It’s too much responsibility for you, and you’re starting to feel trapped? You don’t have your life anymore?”

He hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.”

You wipe at your eyes furiously. Jesus, why can’t you stop crying? This is embarrassing enough.

You nod at him with finality. “Okay then. Fine. I’ll just go.”

You wipe your eyes once again before walking past him, giving him a wide berth, because if you even so much as brush against him, to feel his touch, you’re going to break all over again. You make it to the front door before pausing. Is this really how this ends? With bitter words and your heart broken? You can’t believe this man, who you adored, loved with all your being, was doing this to you.

Your parents and sisters were right. He did decide to leave once he realised he didn’t want them. And you didn’t want them to be right, you wanted to be able to prove your family wrong, just like you had proved everyone else wrong whenever they made a judgement about you. How stupid and naïve you were.

No, you’re not stupid. Or naïve. You’re hopeful, and you had a great support system without Santiago, or your family.

Fuck your family and fuck him.

“You know what?” you ask, suddenly spinning around to look at Santiago. He looks at you, the exhausted look back on his face. “I don’t need you. They don’t need you. They don’t need to know that their dad didn’t want them. Do you know why? Because they have me. They will never know the feeling of being unwanted or abandoned. I will shower them with the love they deserve, and they will be surrounded by happiness.”

You didn’t stick around long enough for him to give a response. You slammed the door loudly on your way out, suddenly glad that you had driven here (although he hadn’t offered you a ride, which he usually did, but now you realise why he didn’t). All the things from the past few months were suddenly falling into place; he hadn’t called you corazón in forever, evidently realising the nickname didn’t have as much as a meaning to it as he thought. He hadn’t even taken much part in the baby shower your friends had thrown together for you. And of course, the stupid truck; you should have seen the signs long ago.

You reach your car and climb in. Taking a moment to yourself, the confined space offering a temporary sanctuary from the outside world, you finally let the fresh wave of tears stream down your face, leaving salty trails on your cheeks. Your shoulders heave with each ragged breath as you don’t bother holding back the sobs that had been pushing to escape.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly. The air inside the car feels heavy, saturated with the weight of your emotions. The warmth of the seat contrasts sharply with the chill that has settled in your chest. Time seems to lose its meaning as you sit there, caught in the grip of your emotions.

In this cocoon of seclusion, you fight with the complex feelings of a mix of sorrow and frustration, and you mourn the end of your relationship with Santiago.

After a few moments, you give one final sob, before taking yet another shaky deep breath. You wipe at your eyes again ferociously, before giving yourself a look in your mirror. You’re a mess. You don’t even recognise yourself in the mirror.

You flinch as a neighbour comes out one of the neighbouring apartments, a reminder of a world that continues to move forward while you're stuck in this bubble of despair. They don’t seem to notice you having a complete meltdown in your car. You best get going, you’ll look like a mad woman…and Santiago might be watching.

You start your car, and with one final look at Santiago’s apartment, you leave. For good.

• Por el amor de Dios - For the love of God

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader

[beezusvreeland]

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously. 

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Being back at my parents’ house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa. 

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one. 

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

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A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

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author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #triple frontier fic #bee writes

[spaceagerabbit]

listen, the pedro characters and the oscar isaac characters would find you so pretty even when you’re just doing mundane things

like you’ll be laying in bed in a big t-shirt and pajama pants eating a bedtime snack (like a leftover cupcake or something), and he’ll just look at you with stars in his eyes and a small, soft smile.

you’ll look up from your snack and into his eyes, asking him why he was looking at you like that.

“you look so hot baby”, he would say, letting out a big loving sigh as he places his cheek to his palm.

your face is full of surprise for a brief moment before a soft smile is brought to your face as well, and you move your face down to the snack in your hand. you continue smiling as you eat and he lets out another dreamy sigh.

at one point he turns your head towards him, gently brushing a few crumbs off of your lips and then licking those crumbs off his fingers cheekily.

you can decide where this goes ;)

#pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus pike x reader #ezra x reader #maxwell lord x reader #frankie morales x reader #catfish x reader #gn!reader #oscar isaac characters #steven grant x reader #poe dameron x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #mr knight x reader #santiago x reader #fem!reader #male!reader #black!reader #asian!reader #plus size!reader

[bits-and-babs]

Oh if you’re accepting requests would you do thigh riding with Santi? 😳🫣🫣 man has very rideable thighs…

16. thigh riding I| santi masterlist |I main masterlist

"Santiago," you speak his name lowly as he pulls you from the passenger seat of the car. It’s dark, the vehicle hidden in the blackness of the night in an attempt to evade detection during your surveillance of the building that the cartel had set up drugs-shop in. “We’re working-“

“There’s nothing to ‘surveil’, hasn’t been all night,” he mumbles, pulling you over the car’s console and setting you on one of his thighs. Santi looked agitated, frustration painting his under-eyes a tired blue-purple. Dead end after dead end wifh Lorea seemed to be pushing him to the limits of his patience. “I’d prefer to watch you get off on my thigh, Hermosa.”

Santi’s hands grip ahold of your hips now, dragging them across his thigh with ease. He flexes the muscle, tightening it up beneath your clit as he rolls your pelvis forward.

“Pope-“ you sigh, lips parting as he presses kisses to your throat. Santi’s stubble scratches up against your soft skin, making a soft scraping sound and leaving an almost staticky feeling behind.

He nips at the skin just beneath your earlobe, cruelly targeting the parts of you that he knows will get you riled up. Soon you don’t need his help, rocking your hips against his muscular thigh and gripping at his tshirt as arousal floods between your thighs.

“Fu-“

“Pope,” a pointed voice sounds from the radio set on the dashboard of the car, causing you both to jump. Catfish. “You might want to cut the line.”

Santi smirks at that, seeing blush flood across your cheeks at the realisation that the boys could hear you.

“Let’s give ‘em a show.”

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia imagine #santiago pope garcia x y/n #santiago pope garcia drabble #santiago pope garcia smut #santiago pope garcia oneshot #santiago pope garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago x you #santiago x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #જ⁀➴ mail: received

[astroboots]

Roadtrip

Summary: You and Frankie go on a roadtrip and Santiago tags along.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Frankie x female reader (you) x Santi

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: really explicit sex, anal play, heavy m/m dynamics, twinge of angst if you squint? imagined voyeurism... is that even a kink? Idk... At this point you guys know what I'm all about.

Homesick Masterlist | Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It’s a weekend getaway to Frankie’s late uncle’s cabin by the lakeside that you had been meaning to do for months, just a small weekend trip with the two.

Then Pope comes to town, without any warning or any preamble save for a text the night before his flight, asking if the two of you were in town—the way he does. And there was no way that the two of you would leave town for the weekend without him when he was visiting. 

God knows how many months or even years it would take before he’d be back home next. So you take him with you. 

It’s a seven hour drive to South Carolina, but only if you manage to escape the worst of the morning traffic. It means the three of you wake up at the crack of dawn and while you are all in agreement that this was sensible, come morning as the alarm clocks go off you both treat Frankie like he’s a war criminal for dragging you out of bed. 

As soon as Pope steps out of the front door, he is already bitching about how there’s no need to wake up this fucking early because, “fucking Christ, Fish, they didn’t even wake us up this early in the fucking Army. I thought this was a vacation, why am I waking up in the middle of the fucking night?”

Then he’s cursing Frankie out in three languages, bitching about how he’s not even had time to have his first sip of coffee yet. 

Frankie ignores him in favor of throwing your weekender bags into the back of his truck. The man is being a drama queen and it’s too early for Frankie to find the patience and calm to deal with his smart mouth and multilingual insults. 

There’s a slow, clumsy sound of metal scraping against the front door, and it sounds like you’re struggling to lock it. You’re so bleary eyed, brain still in zombie-mode that your mind clearly has not properly paired up with your hands and feet—and yeah, Frankie feels a little bit bad about that. 

Especially when you approach the car and he can spot the way your feet are wobbling and swaying. 

“Vamos Cariño, let’s get in the car so we can get coffee on the way,” Pope hollers at you, without any regards for how his voice carries at this quiet hour. It’s enough to wake up the neihghbour’s Rottweiler that starts to bark from behind the neighbouring gate. 

As you approach the car, the tip of your shoe snags on the curb to the driveway. It is a split of a second, before you would have faceplanted on the curb. But even with his half-awake reflexes, Pope’s arm slings out in the last second to catch you by the waist. 

“Careful princesa,” Pope warns in that mock reverent tone, as he steadies you on your feet. “Let’s try not to get ourselves hurt first thing in the morning yeah? If you knock out your front teeth, we’ll have to take you to the hospital and then Frankie will have tortured us for nothing.” 

Smart ass. Think he’s so fucking funny. 

Pope’s hand comes to rest on your waist as he leads you to the backseat and Frankie almost wants to protest. Usually you always sit with him in the passenger seat, but half awake as you were, he doesn’t have the heart to make you get up when Pope’s already got you buckled you in. 

It also doesn’t help that Pope is clearly in a mood this morning, and Frankie knows the man well enough that it means he will pounce at any small opportunity to be petty. Frankie has no idea how he could possibly negotiate that you should sit next to him, without sounding like a petulant child and not have Pope make fun of him the whole of the weekend. 

So he lets it go. Sighing to himself as he prepares himself for the six hour car trip upstate. 

The silver lining is that he barely has to pull the car out of your block, before the quiet hum and low vibration from the motor has both you and Pope dead asleep in the car within minutes. It means that Frankie can pick his music without any quippy remarks from Pope about his taste, or worse, have Pope request that Frankie should put on Metallica at 03:26 in the morning. Despite Pope’s insistence otherwise, James Hatfield screeching through heavy drums and guitar is not ‘sleep music’. 

Frankie even takes the more scenic route, the Florida landscape whizzing by the window that quickly calms whatever irritable nerves he had from waking up so early. Occasionally, he steals glances in the rearview mirror to check the traffic behind him. Everytime he does, he catches the glimpse of the two of you within that small silver square. 

Your face is tucked into the crook of Santi’s neck, his cheek nestled against the top of your head, arm slung over your waist. It’s a serene, polaroid moment, that is perfectly framed within the mirror. Part of Frankie almost wants to stop and take a picture. Memorialise it somehow, because lately it feels like these moments are rarer and fewer in between. The stretches of time when Pope would come back home grows wider between each visit. 

From the highway, Frankie can see a road sign announcing there’s a pitstop rest and diner approaching at the next turn. 

Neither of you had eaten, and a diner is bound to have some coffee that Frankie could buy for the road when Pope eventually wakes up. 

Diner coffee is hardly known for its quality, and it is a surefire way to start Pope on another long-running rant the moment he wakes up. Frankie bets good money on that it will be something along the lines of “fuck this tastes like piss. It’s cold Frank.”

But Frankie knows that if he tried to take it away from him, Pope would inevitably pull the styrofoam cup back to his chest like it’s a family heirloom. You’d laugh at them both from the sidelines, then end up eating everyone’s portions of fries while they were distracted by bickering. It’s how these car trips always used to go. 

As Frankie takes the exit turn, and pulls into the parking lot of the diner, the car slowly comes to a stop. He takes one last look at the rear mirror before exiting. 

The two of you are still bundled up against each other. Something about it makes him stop. Instead of getting out of the car, he unbuckles and turns away from the mirror to observe you in full.

Frankie’s known Pope for over a decade by now, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen his expression this calm, awake or sleeping, as he is now, asleep with you nestled into his chest. For once Pope’s brows are not knitted in concentration or arched with challenge. His pink mouth slack, falling slightly open instead of stretched into a thin line— looking impossible soft. The whole of him seems unravelled instead of the tightly wounded ball of constant action that Frankie has grown so used to. 

There’s an errant lock of curls that falls into Santi’s brow, and Frankie’s fingers itch with intent, wanting to reach over and brush it back into place so as not to wake either of you. 

Before he has the chance to, Santi’s eyelids flutter open. 

“What time is it?” he murmurs, sleep-slurred. 

“Just past seven,” Frankie answers. “I was thinking of getting us some breakfast and coffee for the road.” 

Pope doesn’t complain, just rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Then he untangles himself from you, taking care to not wake you, despite the fact that you’re a heavy sleeper. But as soon as his arms leave your shoulder, you whine at the loss of warmth. 

“Such a baby,” Pope teases, even though you’re sound asleep and can’t possibly hear him. Then he takes off his jacket and wraps it over your shoulder, tucking in the sides against you. There’s a gentleness to it that makes Frankie rub a hand across his chest over his shirt, as though he could rub away the strange ache that’s settled there at the sight. 

Not quite jealousy. Though he can’t exactly pinpoint what this is.

Frankie and Pope get out of the car, and there’s a silence that settles between them, as they walk up to the diner and wait for their orders. This is nothing new between them. The amount of time they have spent in each other’s wordless company over the years, over missions, over stake-outs, over long flights and treks. Frankie has always been grateful over the ease that settles without question when it’s silent between them. 

When they get back to the car with coffee and greased up diner breakfast wrapped up in paper bags, instead of settling in the back seat, Pope comes to the passenger’s side. 

Frankie shoots him a look, and Pope shrugs his shoulders with a casual smile. “She always gets to sit in the front, I have to take my opportunity when she’s knocked out.”

Frankie gets into the car, and Pope quickly follows, drawing the styrofoam cup to his mouth and taking a small sip. His face pulls into a disgusted grimace. 

“The coffee tastes like piss, Frank”

“Yeah? Should I take it then?” 

Frankie stretches out his hand and just as he predicted, Pope pulls away, hugging the small cup tightly to his chest like he’s guarding a treasure. It’s so predictable that Frankie can’t help but laugh. 

The truck barely makes it out of the parking lot, before Santi’s grubby hands are digging into the paper bag, grabbing a handful of fries that he shoves into his mouth. 

“You have to save some for her,” Frankie warns, “otherwise she’ll have your head.” 

“That monster always eats my fries, this is me collecting interest for the last couple of decades.” 

He reaches back into the paper bag grabbing another handful, and this time it spills onto the floor of the car. “Shit! The fries!” 

“Garcia, I swear to god. Do not make a mess of my truck.” 

“Don’t get your panties twisted Fish, calm the fuck down, I’ll clean it up now” Pope says, as he leans over to reach under his seat, planting a hand on Frankie’s thigh in the process. 

The weight of it scalds and burns, in a way Frankie doesn’t expect. The surprise of it makes him jolt, his knee jerking up, right foot kicking down on the pedal that lunges the car forward. There’s a loud honk, and it’s a split of a second as Frankie spots the oncoming car and swerves the steering wheel. 

His heart is pounding loudly in the sternum of his chest as he swears under his breath, then with his remaining wits, he pulls over to the side of the road. 

Before the car has even halted, Pope is already popping off. 

“Jesus fucking christ! What the hell! What the hell happened? Was there something on the road?” 

And Frankie isn’t entirely sure himself, mind grappling to fix together the pieces of what had caused him to lose control, why on earth he had reacted the way he did. 

From the rear mirror, he can see his his own reflection, face bright red and he doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on with him, but there’s a stirring heat in in his groin that has him growing a semi in his jeans. 

All the commotion has woken you up. He can see your eyes and how they are fixed downwards, glued to his seat. He follows your gaze to his knees, to where Santi’s left hand is still gripping his knee. 

Without saying a single word, he can see from the intent look in your eyes. 

You know why. 

You and Santiago are both awake for the rest of the trip. The two of you fight for dominance over the stereo:  play mindless road trip games that end up in verbal brawls and accusations of the other cheating; and you insist on stopping at every road-side attraction to Pope’s unenthusiastic moaning.  

Georgia’s best fried chicken.

Boa, we just ate. 

A giant ball of twine.

Please, no! It’s so tacky. 

A roadside stand selling peaches from the back of a truck? 

They’re overpriced! 

Frankie’s grateful for the distraction as he drives down the changing road of changing landscapes. It helps him take his mind off the minor incident that almost had him pummeling the truck head first towards another car on the highway.

He's supposed to be over this damn it. He's married now. He's made his choice. He has you and he’s happy, happier than he ever thought he deserved to be.

By the time you finally arrive at the cabin, Frankie is knackered. With all the distractions and roadstrips (that he happily indulged just to see you beaming with that smile) the trip ended up far longer than he had anticipated. 

You’re unpacking the bags, dumping the contents haphazardly against the bed, and he can’t help the way fatigue rises in his throat and he lets out a cartoonishly loud yawn. 

It’s so noisy that both you and Santi’s head turn towards him. 

“Wanna take a nap Frankie?” You ask. 

Pope grins, “A nap? It’s 2pm. Are you geriatric now? Fish, if you two wanna sneak away for a quickie, there are better excuses than that.” 

Except Frankie really had just meant to take a nap. He had been driving the whole of the morning while Pope at least got to catch some sleep in the backseat with you. 

A pillow flies across the room and lands smack on Santiago’s head. 

“Go and get some sleep Santiago,” you order. “We have dinner reservations in town at 7pm and if you fall asleep on me then, I swear to God.” 

That finally seems to shut Pope up. You’re the only one on this green earth that has the ability to do that. It doesn’t mean he goes entirely without protest though, Pope makes a big show of sighing as he picks up the pillow and walks towards his bedroom. But for all of his smart-ass comments about Frankie’s age, Pope’s snoring starts not two  minutes after his door closed. 

Frankie doesn’t know how he ends up here. Sitting at the edge of the small bed, his pants pulled down to his ankles. 

The window is open and from outside the cabin, there’s only the rustle of trees and chatter of tiny wildlife — Pope is in the other room, these wooden walls so thin that he can almost hear the man’s soft quiet snores. 

It had started innocently. 

You’d climbed into his lap. Smooth warm thighs straddling him, and it doesn’t take long, when you’re in that position, all of you pressed up against him. plump and soft and so fucking perfect. Of course his body is going to react. It’s a Pavlovian reaction at this stage. It doesn’t matter that you barely move at all. Just the heat of your legs pressed against him makes his cock hard and heavy with an urgent ache. Before he knows it he can feel the hard outline of his insistent erection pressed into the softness of your thighs. 

You let out a small quiet laughter against his forehead as you press your lips there. 

“That didn’t take much. You got yourself really worked up in the car didn’t you?”

For a moment he wonders if this is a test. Doesn’t dare to look you in the eyes to confirm. Then your fingers lift him by his chin, dragging his eyes to yours. There’s no judgment in your eyes. No anger. 

It’s just an acceptance as you press your soft lips to his. There’s soft hums and tender caresses of your hands along his thighs as you scoot down his body to nuzzle the slope of his belly. It’s almost sweet, the way you leave open mouthed kisses along the length of his cock as it twitches and jerks against your soft cheeks. Then you slide off the bed, your knees digging into the chipped wooden floor. 

He reaches for the pillow to make it a bit more comfortable for you, but you stop him, tugging at his wrists. 

“It’s fine baby, leave it.” 

Your soft hands and fingers are circled around the base of his cock, lips wrapping around the tip of him as your tongue gently laps up the runner of fluid. Sharp heat and electricity courses through his spine and chest pushing up against his throat. He bites his lip to suppress it but it’s already too late, he hears the choked strangled moan rumble in the room. 

“Frankie, if you don’t quiet down we might get caught,” you say, voice a sweet, hazy coo. “You’ll wake Santiago. You don’t want that do you?” 

There is heat and sharpness that resides in your eyes as he looks down at you. Eyes observant, with a cutting sharpness that sinks into him, rips him open and lets you see him for who he is. 

His breath hitches at the sight of it and there’s a knowing smile that slowly unfurls on your lips. It tells him that you both know exactly what he wants. 

And Jesus Christ, that’s what makes all of this so very fucking wrong. 

Pope is right next door. Not even five feet away, and maybe it’s the guilt that is crowding Frankie’s chest that makes all his senses more sensitive. But he swears that the sloppy, debauched wet sounds of your mouth as you’re working his cock is so loud that it must echo through the mountain. 

There’s something wrong with him, the way his heart races at the idea of Pope being so close. Soft black curls and challenging eyes with that insufferable competitive grin, flash in fragments before him. 

He thinks of your soft form tucked into Pope’s. How at peace you both looked curled up in each other’s arms. 

Frankie’s cock throbs and pulses with an ache so strong that is almost painful. 

Your fingers are a circle around the tip of his cock, stroking downwards in a slick long movement that has the entirety of his back tingling as he slowly cants his hip upwards to meet you. The warmth of your mouth as you slides down on him, it’s ache and pleasure all blended into one with each devastating thrust. 

Your other hand is on his knee to steady yourself, and wires are being crossed in his brain. Frankie starts to compare the weight of your soft hand against the pressure of Pope’s on his knee. All he can think about is how he wants both—and as much as he tries not to, his cock twitches and pulses at the thought of it. 

The back of your knuckles brush up against that sensitive skin tucked behind his cock close to the cleft of his ass and he jolts into your hand. 

You clock in his eagerness, and already you’re pulling your hand away as you meet his gaze with a knowing smile. 

“Do you need a bit more Frankie?” 

He bites his lips, heart hammering in his chest so hard it feels like it has got to bruise. 

Fuck, this is so wrong. 

“Words, Francisco. Got to hear you say it.”

“Ye—Yes baby, yes…” he stammers, “please.” 

You bring your index finger to your parted lips slicking it with your saliva, and Frankie is unable to look away. His face is burning, blood thrashing in his ears so loudly he thinks he’s going to go deaf with it. Everything seems to be going in slow motion as you bring your fingers back down.

At the first barely there touch of your fingertip to his entrance, live electricity spears his stomach. His hands resting at his side flexes and grips against the sheets to will himself to still. 

“Does that feel good?” 

“Ye—Yes,” Frankie manages to choke out between stifled moans and even that single syllable is a struggle for him right now. 

You hum, a satisfied tone hidden underneath that pleasant sound, as you slowly ease yourself further inside of him. 

“Still need more?” you ask, and there’s a playfulness to it. Your other hand is still stroking his cock with utter control and it has him surrender to you. “Not quite enough though is it baby? You need something else don’t you?” 

He nods, and that’s all the answer you need. Your finger slides out as you wet your middle and ring finger as well, the very same finger you’re wearing a thin gold band wrapped around your finger. That ring that says more than he’d ever allow himself to say out loud: mine.

The bright gold glints against the sunlight of the room. Makes his chest ache with a longing, right before it disappears from his sight, down between his legs. 

Then he feels it, the insistent pressure as you slide into him, and fuck, it’s so much. Your fingers are slim, but with three of them the combined girth provides a heavy pressure in him. He doesn’t know what it says about him, if he’s just that eager, but despite the fullness of it, all he wants is more. More. Deeper somehow. 

“You like feeling full, don’t you? Always want more, always want me deeper. But it’s never quite enough is it?... Should I maybe ask Santiago to come in here and help?” 

His breath draws sharp at your words. The look in your eyes, the shade of victory that flashes in them, makes his cheeks flush hot with the realisation that you have his numbers. 

He’s trying to inhale, the air feels eerily thin and he gets lightheaded with it. Before he has a moment to gather himself and calm down, you continue. 

“I bet Santiago’s cock would be so much thicker than my fingers,” your voice is melted with sweet heat. There’s no cruelty there, not mocking or goading. His desires born from years of stored away guilt is being dragged out by you into the broad daylight where it’s plain for you both to see.  

His eyes squeezes tight, trying to shut out your words. Trying not to think about the feeling of fullness of the three fingers you have inside of him and exactly how much thicker Santiago would be. 

“His cock would reach deeper too, make you feel so full baby.”

And fuck, it’s like whole head is splitting into two, lungs collapsing like you’ve torn the oxygen from his very insides. Everything is painfully tight, and he can’t help but squeeze down around your fingers, savouring the fullness of you inside of him. It’s so good, it’s so perfect, and deep down there’s a small quiet voice in him that tells him he still wants more. 

“That’s what you want isn’t it Francisco? You want Santiago to fill you up just right?”  

It’s a dangerous game that the two of you are playing. Someone is bound to get hurt one of these days. 

He wants to tell you to stop, but he can’t. Because if he uttered so much as a word, he’d risk waking Pope. 

He’s sure that’s the reason he doesn’t stop you.

He barely even notices that your hand is barely touching his cock anymore, just your knuckles brushing against the slick head that’s dripping and oozing with his precome. Your fingers curl perfectly inside him as you press against the devastating spot. It feels like a fuse has blown. He can’t feel his arms or his face, everything is drawing tight within. For a second he is sure that he is experiencing a heart attack. 

The floor and mattress underneath him sinks and pulls him under. It’s the loss of gravity one experiences before a helicopter crash. In his panic, he grabs your shoulder to brace himself, tighter than he had meant to. There’s a dormant part of him that wants to let go, but he can’t, because he’s convinced he’s gonna fall off the edge of the world if he does. 

Everything inside him burns, sweet and urgent. The pressure inside is building to an unbearable point and all he’s aware of is the throbbing need inside him. He comes with a raw sobbing cry that burns his throat. It’s all white pleasure and blinding heat, so overwhelming that it nearly blinds him. 

When he comes to, he’s a complete twitching, dripping wreck. Come streaking his chest and stomach and when he looks up, there’s a clear pearly streak of it marking your collarbone. 

“Fuck. baby I—I’m so sorry, I—” he starts, but you cut him off by sealing your mouth over his. Tongue sliding in, all warm and heat as he moans into your mouth. 

It’s a lucky thing he’s sitting down otherwise his knees would have given under. 

When you pull away from him there is still that loving warmth reflected in your eyes. 

“Don’t be sorry Frankie. It’s okay.”

Your right hand comes to stroke his cheeks, a sweet smile on your face. 

He doesn’t quite understand it himself. How even something this wrong, you can make it feel right. Maybe it’s the understanding you have, maybe it’s the sheer lack of judgment in a way that he’s never had with anyone else. 

“Let’s get cleaned up before Santiago wakes up okay?”

Frankie nods, and lets himself believe your words, even if he knows this is everything but okay. 

Dedication & Credits: To the one and only and the person who is the most constant in my life, @thirstworldproblemss (I don't care what my husband says he's second fiddle). I love you ever so. Thank you for letting me share your everyday with you. I am so happy that I get to spend time with you the way we do talking about everything and nothing. You are shrimpy the best if you can beleaf it.

Authors note: It's been 84 years. I know. I know Rose! Keep your diamond necklace on. Ages ago, when I first posted part 1, someone asked me if reader and Frankie had ever talked about Santiago watching them before, here's the answer to that... This takes place before the main timeline of the Homecoming series. I hope you guys enjoy mwah!

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia #frankie morales #santiago x reader #frankie x reader #cici writes

[pedge-page]

Sharing is Caring - Series

Frankie Morales x F!Reader, featuring triple frontier boys (Will, Benny, and Santiago)

Summary: Frankie has established a Free Use kink with you--and he's excited to extend that to his friends. So much so that he's willing to let them help make your family grow.

Overall Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, free use, group sex, fivesome, eventual pregnancies, breeding kink, exhibitionism, cucking, infertility

* contains explicit content 18+ ONLY

1. Happy Hour *

2. Appetizer *

3. Four Course Meal *

4. Dessert *

5. Leftovers *

#pedro pascal smut #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morlaes smut #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #santiago x reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller smut #santiago garcia smut #will miller smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader

[pimosworld]

The story of us chapter 7

Pairing-Triple Frontier boys x f!reader

Chapter summary-Santiago is forced to make a decision.

CW- 18+,MDNI,Explicit. A link will be posted going forward to avoid spoilers.

WK-5.8K

Notes-See series master list for full story notes. This is the chapter that started it all. Santiago the final boss. Also mentioned is hc that Pope has a nightlight thanks to @melodygatesauthor link.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter VII Weak in the knees

———————————

You stretch comfortably relishing in the softness of your sheets. Rarely do you have the chance to indulge in uninterrupted slumber. You know all too well the nightmares that plague you and your boys from years in the service and the events in Colombia. 

  Your ex never had much of a tolerance for helping you through them, often jostling you awake to stop your soft whines. Being horribly ripped from your nightmares was better than having to sleep through them when he opted to head to the couch instead. 

  Despite sleeping alone, it was much more peaceful knowing you had someone who truly cared for you. As though the universe could read your mind you can feel the light buzz of your phone under your pillow. Your stomach flutters at the prospect of which one could be calling you this early in the morning. 

  Ben’s face lights up your screen, a photo you took of him after his first knockout win, you’ve never seen him happier than he was in that moment. Surrounded by all the people he loved most doing the thing he was so passionate about. 

  Good morning honey. You want to scream into your pillow at his sleepy deep voice but you calm your nerves and do your best to reply. 

  “Good morning babe.” 

  If you call me babe again I’m driving over there right now. It’s not surprising that you’re having the same effect on him but it makes you happy all the same.

  Listen I know it’s last minute but I wanted to invite you to my fight tonight. It’s out of town so we’re spending the night.

  “Sorry I promised some coworkers I’d go out tonight for their birthday.” 

  Be safe please and call Santi if you need anything. 

  “Oh…he’s not going with you?”

  No it’s just me,Fish and Will. Santi said he was busy but he’s probably just gonna sulk in his apartment. 

  You decide not to pry into what that means. You knew he needed his space from time to time so it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  “Good luck tonight babe. I’ll see you guys when you get back.” You giggle at the groan he lets out on the other end.

  You’re a tease, you know that. 

  You hang up smiling down at your phone. You know the two of you could spend an ungodly amount of time talking about nothing and arguing about who should hang up first. You roll over clutching the phone to your chest wondering how you got so lucky. Maybe this was just a dream that you’d wake up from one day but for now you’d enjoy it in whatever form it came.

  ****

  You don’t remember the last time you had this much fun dancing. It was true that you had neglected several relationships in lieu of that asshole and you were grateful that you hadn’t completely ruined those connections. 

  You’re on the dance floor with the birthday girl and a few other coworkers when you glance over at the bar. The floor feels like it’s going to give out as all the air leaves your lungs. Maybe it was the drinks or your mind playing cruel tricks on you but you swear you saw your ex.

  “You ok hon.” Angela yells over the music in your ear bringing you back to the moment. 

  “Ya…I think I just need to sit down for a minute.” You walk to the table on shaky legs as you try and get a grip on reality. 

  You needed to calm down, it probably wasn’t him. Even if it was, he had every right to be in this public place. You’re trying to silence the alarm bells in your brain telling you he was following you. Ptsd does horrible things to your mental state. You’re trying to remember some of the things Will told you. Ground yourself, 4 things you can touch,3 things you can hear,2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste. 

  This is quite possibly the worst place to ground yourself. All you can feel is the stickiness of the table in front of you, you can’t hear anything beyond the music and the loud voices echoing over it. The smell of cheap liquor and heavy cologne permeate your senses and the last thing you want to taste right now is the watered down drink that was left unattended while you were dancing.

  Your chest is getting tight and the bar seems to be darker than it was 5 minutes ago. You have to get out of here.

  You don’t want to bother Santi and you don’t think you could even wait long enough for him to arrive before you pass out from a full blown panic attack.

  You pull out your phone to call an Uber and head outside as you text your friends that you were feeling sick and had to leave. You hover close to the bouncer outside as you wait briefly for it to arrive.

  The humid air outside does nothing to calm your nerves as the small black sedan pulls up and you double check the license plate to make sure it’s your driver. 

  You take the first deep breath in a while as you enter the car and an older woman offers you her name and smiles. 

  You can feel the soft cloth seats beneath your fingers and the cool metal of the buckle as you secure your seatbelt. You set your phone and purse down beside you as you rest your head back against the seat. You can hear the ac blasting, the sounds of the soft jazz on her radio, the thrumming of the car's engine. It smells like a new car and her fresh pine air freshener she has hanging on the rear view mirror. 

  “I have some water in a cooler back there if you want some hon.” You open your eyes and try to choke back the tears that have been threatening to spill since you left the bar. It’s not like she knew your nickname, it's just a term of endearment. 

  “Thank you.” You gratefully accept the water as your panic subsides, thanking whoever out there sent your guardian angel to pick you up. 

  You don’t know when you closed your eyes again but a bright flashing light startles you awake. You can tell you’re almost home as you try and gain your bearings but the vehicle behind you is so close it’s impossible to see.

  “Excuse my language but this person is driving like an asshole.” You chuckle at the older woman’s response as the car pulls around you speeding aggressively by. 

  “Almost home hon…” She smiles sweetly to you in the mirror as you try to school your expression. You’d recognize that truck anywhere and suddenly your suspicions from the bar were all but confirmed. 

  Fuck

  ****

Just pick up the phone and call her, if only it were that simple for Santiago as he sits alone in his apartment staring down at the blank phone screen like it’s going to spontaneously call you. 

Will's words echoed in his mind, playing on a constant loop. Why was he denying himself happiness? That stubborn part of his brain always goes to the worst case scenario. If it doesn’t work out he could lose you forever. 

Somehow he forgets how many times he’s been here before with you. He won’t admit to the guys how many times you’ve waded into that territory. You confessed your love so many times only to be met with his stupid avoidances or the casual ‘ love you too’. 

Everything was different after Colombia, after that night you spent in the hotel just holding each other. No words were spoken but feelings were exchanged. In true Santiago fashion you returned to the states and he acted as if nothing had happened. You didn’t want to admit how much it broke you. 

He was always running from his feelings but he kept your heart on a string from the moment you met. The string would get closer or further away depending on how he was feeling but that was the closest it’s been to snapping. 

He could say what he wanted about the other guys but he broke the rules more than anyone. Always toting the line of no one can have you if I can’t. He never made an attempt over the years to like your boyfriends, it didn’t bother you much, you knew how protective he was in more ways than one. 

You however would do your best to like his girlfriends or the ones that actually stuck around for more than a month. He would find some excuse to break it off when she started getting too close to the group. Any serious relationship threatening what you had made him feel uneasy. 

Little did you know he could never have someone he loved so close to someone he was pretending to love. 

After Colombia he thought you were just coping like you usually did. Find some shitty guy for a few weeks to occupy your mind and then everything would go back to the way it was. You stopped responding to texts, stopped showing up to the bar, stopped showing up to Benny's fights. Maybe this time he finally pushed you over the edge. Into the arms of someone unworthy of your love and genuine kindness. 

He could call himself a hypocrite for even having these thoughts. He was too stubborn for that. He couldn’t see that he was being just as shitty to you as any of the guys you’ve dated. He wouldn’t commit but he wouldn’t let you get far enough to forget that he was an option. 

Why couldn’t he just say he loved you? 

The night before they confronted Mike was the first panic attack he’d had in a very long time. His chest  was growing tighter each time he couldn’t see you, his emotions threatening to boil over and affecting his daily life. He couldn’t focus or think about anything besides you. 

He didn’t regret coming over, but everyday since then not telling you how he truly felt was making the gaping hole in his heart even bigger. He convinced himself that he would just bide his time until the whole thing blew up in their faces. Now seeing you all so happy including Will he was starting to feel like an outcast. 

Incoming call

“Santi…I didn’t know who else to call.” Your frantic voice on the other line has him in full blown panic.

“Are you okay, what’s happening?” Silence on the other end. His feet are taking him out the door before he knows what’s happening. 

“Talk to me cariño.” 

“I’m sorry I dropped my phone…I was out with some friends and I thought I saw him at the bar but I couldn’t be sure but just now I think he drove by my house.”He can hear your sniffles and heavy breathing and the faint sound of keys. 

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t even need to ask who you’re referring to. 

“Santiago, have you seen his truck!” Of course the most obnoxious monstrosity known to man that screams I’m a douchebag. 

“Yes I’m sorry, I’m on my way right now, stay put.”

“I’m coming to you-.”

“No, you’ve been drinking, make sure the doors are locked and grab your gun. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” You know he lives at least ten minutes away but you don’t doubt he’ll be here in 5.

“Stay on the phone with me please.” You’ve never heard him so desperate in your life. You almost feel bad for calling him until you see the signature camo wrap truck slowly driving by your house. 

You run to your room and open the closet, placing your finger on the lock box where your gun is held. It’s always loaded but you never thought you might have to use it on someone you know. 

In all your years of training, an elite special ops soldier. The first time in your life not being looked at as a woman who managed to climb this high but a person with a certain skill set that was unmatched for most. You had the steadiest hands but right now your hands are shaking as you stare at the gun knelt in your closet. 

You can hear the front door open and you quickly place the gun back in the lock box. His heavy footsteps echo down the hall as he reaches your room before you can stand from your floor. 

He drops to his knees as he grabs you, pulling you into him. 

“Santi your knees.” He sits back surveying you as if you were an illusion in front of him. 

“I don’t give a shit about my knees, are you okay?” 

Your immediate reaction is to say no, no you’re not okay because all you want to do right now is kiss him and that would be highly inappropriate given the current circumstances. 

“Yes…I’m fine.Can you stay with me tonight?”

You can see the wheels turning in his head. Is he contemplating what you just asked or questioning why he’s even here in the first place?

“No…we should go to my place. He doesn’t know where I live and I would sleep better if we weren’t here.” 

You don’t take long to grab a few things and head out. Santi double and triple checking that he locked your door as you make your way to his jeep. Your street is eerily quiet as you look it over wondering if he was bold enough to drive down it. 

He opens the door for you as you briefly lock eyes. There’s so much unspoken between the two of you, you haven’t been alone with him in months and you can feel the tension rolling off your body. 

He holds your hand the entire way to his apartment. He can barely keep his eyes on the road as he stares back and forth between you and the rearview mirror. As much as you enjoyed being in his company you couldn’t escape the nagging feeling of him ignoring you for days. 

“I’m going to put up some extra surveillance outside your house this week. It would make me feel better.” 

You contemplated your next words. Arguing with them when they had their mind set on something never went well for you and you didn’t want to push him away for being helpful. 

“Thank you, I would really appreciate it.” He looks over at you like he half expected you to protest and now he’s stuck. There was no rebuttal, no back and forth. You simply just agreed to let him help you. 

****

Maybe it was the horrible lighting in Santi’s spare bathroom or the fact that you were crying and smeared your makeup before he got to your house, but you’ve definitely looked better. 

You splash some water on your face and fix your hair as best you could. Your nerves were shot from the events of the night and being here in his apartment with this tension boiling below the surface has you a little on edge. In your panic you didn’t realize you grabbed one of his shirts to change into along with your sleep shorts. 

It would have to do since you couldn’t spend the rest of the night in your dress and the world's most uncomfortable bra. You give yourself a final once over before stepping out into the living room. He was seated on the couch with his arm draped over the back and his legs spread wide in a relaxed state. 

You thought he might want to go to bed with how late it was and you would just sleep on the couch but you can feel your heart rate picking up at the prospect of actually getting to talk to him. 

He turns around as he senses you, his body tenses slightly as his eyes trail down your form. He doesn’t know if you’ve always been this beautiful or if it’s you in his shirt, legs exposed and fresh faced. Emerging from his bathroom smiling at him like it’s some domesticated thing you do everyday. 

“If you’re tired you can sleep in my bed but we can watch a movie if you want to stay up a little.” His eyes flit back and forth between your face and your body. 

“First of all I’d love to watch a movie and second of all I’m not taking your bed Santiago.” He lets out a frustrated sigh as he pats the space next to him. 

“How many of my shirts have you stolen?”

“Borrowed…a few.” You sit next to him just close enough to touch legs but still giving him space.

“So which Star Wars are we watching this time?” He leans forward to grab the remote and pulls you into his side as he gets comfortable again. 

“Empire strikes back?” You knew that wasn’t his favorite but you figured tonight he was either feeling sorry for you or extremely generous. 

“Fine…only because I love you .” He didn’t mean it like that so just calm down. 

You watch the movie as you usually do-with much commentary from Santi about how messed up the order is and if he was a Jedi he would have more self control. Blah blah blah. You’ve heard it a thousand times but it still makes you laugh with how serious he is about it. 

His heart is aching for you, as you genuinely laugh at his jokes that he knows he’s bored you with before. Your giggles echo through his body as your head is laid on his chest. All the worries of the night or the next day melting away with every minute that passes you by. 

If every night was like this he could die a happy man. You curled up next to him, in his shirt,going to sleep in his bed…with him. Except it’s not, he’s fantasizing about things that aren’t real, it’s almost too much as you look up at him sweetly. Your lips are so close to his as his breath fans hot against yours. Why can’t he just shut his brain off. 

He stands abruptly from the couch almost knocking you over. You watch him stomp towards the kitchen unsure of what just transpired. You were certain he was going to kiss you. How could you have misread that?

You were sick of this tip toeing around him and dealing with his mood swings. You traipsed after him determined to figure this out. 

“Is everything okay?” He’s facing away from you as he grips the counter top staring out the kitchen window into the darkness. 

“No.” His hands shake slightly as he grabs a glass to fill with water from the tap. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“No.” You didn’t think the tension boiling over all night would result in this but you’ve had it with him. 

“What’s your problem Pope?!” He turns to look at you, his pupils are blown wide and you’ve only ever seen him look like this on intense missions. 

“You!…you’re my problem.” You’re trying desperately to swallow the lump in your throat,fighting back the tears that he did not get to see you shed. 

“Maybe I should go.I don’t want to ruin your night any further.” You turn to head towards the bathroom to gather your things. This was a mistake calling him,you pushed your luck thinking this would work. 

“You know what there is something you can do for me.” He’s practically yelling as you spin on your heels. 

“Please enlighten me.”

He stalks towards you until you’re backed against the wall. His face is so close to yours as he places his hands beside your head, his chest is heaving against you as you search his eyes for an answer. 

“You can stop looking at me like that, stop being so perfect, stop wearing those jeans that make your ass look great-.”

“Santiago.” He places his fingers on your lips.

“Stop saying my name like a goddamn prayer.” His eyes are feral and you don’t chance interrupting him again because his brain might catch up with his mouth and he’ll stop saying everything you’ve wanted to hear since the day you met him.

“Stop consuming my sleep and waking thoughts.” He drops his forehead to yours as he tries to catch his breath. “Stop making me love you.” His eyes are so tightly shut it pains you.

“Stop anticipating my every move because you can read me like a fucking book.” You bring your hands to his face willing him to look at you. 

You don’t even remember when your tears started flowing. “Santi I love you too.”

“Just stop.” His voice is hoarse and barely above a whisper. 

“Listen to me, I love you.” He finally lets the damn break as he takes in your words. You kiss his cheeks and taste the salty tears rolling down. 

“I won’t stop doing any of those things, because I love-.”

He cuts your words off with a bruising kiss as he cups the back of your neck. The forceful yet tender pressure of his lips against yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Tell me what you want cariño.” He pants into your mouth as you both steal breaths from each other.

“I want you.”

“You’ve had me for longer than you know.” 

Your fingers trace the outline of his jaw as you hang in this moment. The anticipation in the air is palpable as he grabs your hand and leads you down the dimly lit hallway. Each step feels like a heartbeat, synchronized with the rush of emotion coursing through you. 

As you enter his bedroom the soft glow of his night light casts shadows among the room. You can still make out his sickeningly beautiful face as he traces a delicate path down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He grabs the hem of your shirt slowly raising it up above your stomach and you take a deep breath as he pulls it over your head. Your nipples harden as they’re exposed to the cold air of the room and he inhales sharply. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

“I want to see you.” He quickly removes his shirt revealing his tan toned body. Your fingertips lightly trace the scars across his chest that you’ve seen so many times before. 

He dips his head to your neck,his lips ghost over your pulse point as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. As he slides them down he drags his tongue along your chest, kissing the valley between your breasts as he comes face to face with your mound. 

You silently curse yourself that he’s on his knees again for you but you’re only momentarily upset as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. Your breathing has picked up as he places soft kisses along your thigh. He growls at the sight of your dripping folds as his finger teases through your slit. 

He licks a stripe so slow your knees almost buckle but he has a firm grip on your thigh. You whimper above him and grip his hair as he blows cold air onto your exposed mound. 

He laps at you hungrily as his tongue circles your clit. You’re soaking his face as he licks and sucks like it’s the only thing he’s wanted in the world. He can tell you’re close as your grip tightens in his hair pulling him into you. 

“Santiago-“ Your name on his lips while he’s buried in your cunt has his cock straining in his jeans.

“Say it again.” 

“Santiago…please.” His nose grinds against your clit as his tongue prods your entrance,you’re a whimpering mess as you gush into his mouth. He lets out a deep groan into your pussy taking down every drop as you fight to stay standing. 

He grips your hips as he lowers your leg,he stands before you crashing his lips to yours as he licks your bottom lip. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s primal the way it makes you feel. He’s all over you like you could change your mind at any moment and he wants to claim as much as he can before it’s over. 

His eyes go wide as you push him back onto the bed. You wondered how often he let himself relinquish control and the sight of him laid out in front of you has a fresh wave of slick coating your thighs. 

You slowly unbuckle his jeans as he lifts his hips for you, never breaking eye contact. His thick cock bobs against his stomach as you pull his jeans and boxers off. You’re practically drooling as you run your hands up his thighs. He shivers beneath you as you take him in your hand stroking him lazily. You trail your thumb at the tip collecting the precum steadily leaking out.

He’s gripping the sheets as he lets out a string of English and Spanish curses under his breath. He gently grabs your hand and he looks like he’s fighting with himself to keep it together. 

“Please…I need you.” Santiago Garcia is begging for you. 

You both have done enough teasing for a lifetime and you won’t make him beg any longer. You straddle his thighs on the bed as you line your entrance with his cock. He grips the base and guides you as you sink down onto him. 

You both still for a moment as you catch your breath. He has a firm grip on your waist as you give an experimental roll of your hips. “Oh fuck.” He’s moving you back and forth in rhythm and you’ve never felt so full. You brace your hands on his chest as you pick up the pace. 

You look like a goddess above him as he watches you ride him. Your noises and chants of his name only spur him on further. He sits up wrapping an arm around your waist and you clench down on him hard as he bounces you on his cock. “Fuck this pussy’s so tight.” 

“Santi..oh.. my god.” He’s going to see god if you don’t stop saying his name like that. 

Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as you drop your head to his shoulder. He thrusts his hips up as he slams you down and your vision goes white as he punches something deep inside. You bite down hard on his shoulder as you come down from your climax sending him over the edge. A loud groan rips through his chest as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your pussy clenches with aftershocks as he pulses in your dripping cunt. 

“That was….” He’s panting on your chest as you nod your head. You can’t even begin to attempt words but he knows what you’re feeling. 

You both let out a long sigh that perhaps you’d been holding for an eternity. You both burst out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. 

He rolls you over and pulls out, he spreads your legs wide watching your combined spend dripping out of you. You knew he was possessive but this is a side of him that has you wanting more. 

“Stay here,I’ll be right back.” You never thought you’d be in this position as you watch his perfect ass walk towards his bathroom. 

The water runs briefly before he returns with a washcloth, carefully cleaning your thighs and your swollen folds. 

A brief moment of insecurity flashes through you. As if he can sense it, he leans over you planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Under the covers miel, we need to get some sleep.” He pats your thigh playfully as you scramble back to get comfortable. 

He slides in next to you, pulling you up on his chest. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek as you start to drift off to sleep. 

He can faintly make out your quiet giggles as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

“Something funny?” You shift slightly to look up at him, it’s hard to see in the darkness but he looks so relaxed. 

“Yes…the nightlight I got you.”

“Mhmm.” He rubs your arm trying to stay awake but your soft warm skin pressed against him is winning the battle. 

“I didn’t think you’d use it.” He may not need it anymore if he can have you like this. 

“It helps me in the dark.” Just like you. 

****

The soft morning light is peeking through the blinds in his room. You look over to see his face buried in the pillow and his arm draped across your stomach.  

The old analog clock he refused to get rid of from your military days says it’s far too early to be getting your day started. You turn over on your side to chase the warmth of his body and hopefully get a few more hours of restful sleep. 

A small folded paper on his nightstand catches your eye. It looks like it’s been handled quite a bit and a black ball point pen is strategically placed next to it. You often wondered what Santiago thought about while sleep eluded him and your curiosity is getting the best of you. 

You slowly reach out trying not to disturb the gorgeous man behind you. Just as your fingers reach it he pulls you back into him. You hold your breath for a moment and then hear the light snores again. 

Of course he made a pros and cons list. 

Pros

Not being alone

Protection

Shared experiences 

More of your needs met

No boredom

Sex

Group sex?

Children? 4?

Cons

Jealousy

Living situations 

Outside judgment

Parents 

Keeping the friendship intact

Splitting your time

Group sex

Children

Heartbreak

The list was nothing if not precise and a little funny. You definitely had some questions but it didn’t upset you. Santiago was rational, logical and very analytical. It’s hard to snap out of something that was your job for the better part of your adult life. 

He couldn’t open his heart up without thinking of every possible scenario. That’s what attracted you to them in the first place. They were all so different and you could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. 

You’ve already been partners for years essentially without the sexual aspect. It took a lot of trust to put your life in someone’s hands and you all have done that a hundred times over. The hard part for him it seemed was what came next. 

Everything on both lists makes complete sense. You noticed he crossed out parents since most of you either didn’t have much of a relationship with them or you didn’t care what they thought of your lives. 

“How much of that have you read?” His sleepy voice in your ear startles you. 

“Jesus Christ Santiago.” You roll over to face him as he peers at you through his thick curly lashes. It’s criminal for anyone to look this good first thing in the morning. 

“It seems you’re a thief and nosy.” He kisses your nose as he rolls on top of you, caging you in with his arms.

“I just have a few questions.” You try to focus on his face and not the way his naked body feels on top of you. 

“I’m sure it’s about group sex and children.” You raise your eyebrows at him waiting for him to continue.

“I figured I was jumping the gun on both topics so I took it off the cons list.” 

“We don’t have to figure all of it out on day one.” 

You can see him contemplating and weighing your words. Always thinking. 

“Listen…if you don’t hear from me over the next few weeks,please don’t be upset.” You stare at him confused as a knot begins to form in your stomach. 

“It’s not because I regret any of this cariño, I just need to take care of some things.” He attempts a distraction as he kisses your neck. You love and hate the way your body so easily responds to him as you feel the wetness between your legs. 

You tug on his hair as he growls into your ear. “Why do you always have to be so vague when you don’t want me to know something?”

“Just trust me please…it’s for your protection.” You can tell in his eyes he is being sincere. 

“Well speaking of protection, I'm on birth control. We kind of skipped passed that last night.”

“I wasn’t really worried about it miel.” Your eyes go wide at the revelation. This honest side of Santiago would take some getting used to. 

“I guess I’m not surprised based on the 4 children on the pros list.” He groans again as he drops his head to your shoulder.

“Please don’t mention that to anyone.”

“Not a chance, Daddy Santi.” His body betrays him as you feel his bulge pressed against you growing harder. 

He instinctively grinds his hips into yours eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses you slow and deep, his hard cock dragging through your dripping folds.The memory of the previous night sparking something between you. 

“You know…we could always pretend we’re trying.” You want to roll your eyes at how alike they all are the great pretenders.

You don’t mind spending the rest of the morning pretending until you have to pry yourselves from the bed.

After breakfast he takes you home with promises of what the future holds. You decided to borrow the list, keeping it tucked away for safekeeping. 

****

Your phone buzzes on your bathroom countertop as you step out of the shower. 

DF4L

Santiago: We need to talk about honey.

You just dropped me off?

Francisco:Everything ok?

Santiago:Sorry wrong chat.

You have a group chat without me?

Benjamin:Pope had a rash one time he didn’t want to send the picture to you😜.

What’s the name of the group chat?

Santiago: callate pendejo. 

Benjamin:No one tell her 🤫

William: You know Ben can’t speak Spanish. 

Francisco:He just dropped you off? It’s 1pm

I’m literally a nurse. You should send me rash photos. 

Santiago:Fuck you Ben I never had a rash. Don’t worry cariño just wanted to go over details for your birthday😘

Benjamin:Holy man just sent a kiss emoji 😂

Ok don’t plan anything crazy love you

That was meant for all not anyone in particular 

—— 

Santiago fumbles with his phone cursing under his breath. He was obviously distracted and he shouldn’t be texting and driving but he had to handle this now. 

Golden Girls

We seriously need to talk 

The kid 🥊:I knew you were the weak link

What?

Will:Congratulations 

I don’t know what you’re talking about

🐈🐠: slow clap for the man who got laid last night.

The kid 🥊: and probably this morning 😂

I’ll be at your house in 5

Will: What are we talking about?

Mike

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@luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @meveispunk @casa-boiardi @evyiione @littlenosoul @the-fox-den @saturn-rings-writes @romanarose @wandasbitch22 @spngingerbread21 @spookyxsam @summer-may @imonmykneessir @avastrasposts @fishingforpike @laaundromat @tanzthompson

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago x reader #frankie morales x reader #benny miller x female reader #will miller x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x fem reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x ooc #triple frontier smut #tf poly x reader #tf boys x reader #triple frontier poly #triple frontier boys x reader #triple frontier x you #francisco morales x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║Ⅵ

pairing: santiago garcia x f!reader x frankie morales

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.8k

summary: frankie has a proposal for you that you're eager to accept.

warnings: cuckolding, fingering, degradation, handjob, piv, established relationship with frankie, dirty talking

a/n: I'm dedicating this to @astroboots because homecoming is an absolute gem and the series that urged me to go and watch triple frontier, love you loads and thank you for all the amazing fics 💜💜 also quick side note so no one gets confused this is completely unrelated to the homecoming universe just a random fic with frankie and santi

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST . KINKTOBER '22

When Frankie had told you about his little plan that would include his best friend, you were game almost immediately. You knew that Santi was visiting tonight and that he would inevitably pop by even if there wasn’t a specific time set for his arrival. You had eagerly accepted Frankie’s offer but you had no idea when he would actually broach the subject to Santi, how would that conversation even go? Would he ask him infront of you? Your body heated up at the thought. 

Eventually Santi did come over. The three of you dined regularly, talking and chattering along with music playing in the background. You’d already forgotten about what Frankie said earlier this morning. You just assumed your boyfriend didn’t manage to tell Santi about it, or Santi had simply refused. You didn’t really want to think about the latter. 

But then, rather visibly if you might add, Santi threw his arm around your shoulder and squeezed your right tit. Just like that. Right in front of Frankie’s puppy dog eyes.  

You froze for a brief moment, the talk you had with Frankie escaping your mind as panic settled in your chest. Frankie’s dark gaze flickered between Santi’s hand and your shocked gaze. Then, seeing how nervous you were, Frankie winked at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on top of Santi’s lap, his cock buried deep inside with Frankie sitting right next to you two, watching. 

“Come on cariño, spread those legs. Show your man how good it feels to be fucked with a cock other than his,” 

You shiver at the way he whispers in your ear. Voice gravelly and thick with lust, his hips snap up, a gasp rips away from your lips. He wraps his fingers around your throat, the curve of his nose nestled against your cheek. Santi spreads your thighs even further apart with his own. The view of his cock sliding in and out of you is being devoured by Frankie’s hungry gaze, he licks his lips, leaning closer to get a better view. You moan, head falling back. Santi’s cock glistens with slick, a white ring circling the base of his cock. His nails bite into the skin of your throat as a warning. 

“Look at him,” he growls. “Look at him and say who’s cock you prefer,” 

You bite your tongue, thinking that saying such a thing might cross a certain, invisible line. 

However, your mind is quick to change when you take note of Frankie’s expression. His eyes are clouded with a layer of lust, lips parted, swallowing thick when you meet his gaze. A soft whine escapes him and your pussy clenches around Santi’s cock, making the other man groan in response. 

“I-I–” you squeeze your eyes shut. As if to push the words out, Santi slams into you, the shaft of his cock stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again. You cry out. “I prefer your cock–” 

You swallow down the guilt that’s been accumulating in your chest, Frankie’s hips jolt up and you see him pushing down his sweatpants. Your vision is blurred from the tears gathering in your eyes. Santi grins into your skin, his fingers loosening around your throat. 

“Who’s cock?” he asks, his tone cruel and teasing. “Say the name, mi vida. Who’s cock is making you feel this good? Tell him, he wants to know,” 

“Your cock Santi– I fucking love your cock– Just, please–” 

“Shhh,” he covers your mouth, silencing your pleas and looks at Frankie. A mischievous glint lighting his gorgeous brown eyes. “Hear that Fish? You need to learn how to satisfy your woman. I barely fucked her and she’s already drunk on my cock, thought you were better in bed,” 

Beads of sweat burst from your forehead. Santi sensually grinds his hips into you, grinning as you moan into the palm of his hand. Brows knit together, your eyes drop to Frankie. His cheeks are dusted with a dark shade of red, teeth deep into his bottom lip as he stares at you wide-eyed. There’s something intoxicating about him watching you come apart like this. Your gaze drops to his cock, the tip is an angry shade of red but he refuses to touch himself. Santi pushes your head back, mouthing the underside of your jaw while his gaze is glued to Frankie. His hips are completely still now, the ache in your lower stomach growing by each passing minute. Whimpering, you wiggle your hips in a weak attempt to satisfy yourself. Santi ignores you completely. 

“You want to fuck this pussy don’t you,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Too bad I’m not done with her yet. But–” 

The tone of his voice is higher, more joyful, and you just know that he has something planned. 

“You can use my hand to jerk yourself off if you want to. You don’t deserve to fuck the real thing,” 

Your eyes widen with surprise when Frankie whimpers. His broad shoulders slumping, he averts his gaze then he mutters something neither you nor Santi can hear. Santi inhales you, darting his pink tongue to taste the salt of your skin. 

“I didn’t quite catch that Frankie. What did you say you wanted?” 

Frankie avoids Santi’s gaze like the plague. His bottom lip trembles one last time before answering in one, quick breath. 

“I want to fuck you hand,” 

Before either of them can add to that your moan cuts through the air like a dagger. Your head falls back, cunt fluttering around Santi’s cock as slick drips down his length. He hisses at how tight you get, his gaze finds Frankie’s, lips curled in an awkward smile. 

“I think she likes to hear you beg,” he pants, you involuntarily squeeze around him again. 

Franki’s eyes move up and down your writhing figure, lingering where your body connects with Santi’s. Some part of him wants to get on his knees and watch up close, maybe have a little taste. Instead he sighs, cock twitching impatiently as he thinks up the words. 

“Please,” he starts, swallowing and licking his lips. “I’ll take anything just let me– let US– come Santi– Please–” 

Santi’s face contorts in faux thoughtfulness. He finally frees your mouth and grips your chin, twisting your head in a way that he could see you clearly. You look at him between half lidded eyes, spit dribbling from the corner of your kiss swollen lips, a whimper ripples in your throat. His heart suddenly swelling, he leans and gives your cheek a fleeting kiss. He doesn’t miss the way your lips ever so slightly curl upwards. 

“Fine,” he grins, letting go of your chin and reaching out to Frankie’s cock. “You can use my hand, that’s probably enough for you, yeah? You just need something resembling a hole and you’re good? No wonder she’s so thrilled to have another cock filling her up. It’s a shame really, you’re quite big there Fish. Technically speaking, you should be able to satisfy her–” 

You and Frankie moan in unison, both of you loud, both of you on the verge of breaking. The sound drowns out the rest of his sentence, but his tone suggests that  it must be filthy. Between eyelashes, you see Santi stroking your boyfriend with eager hand movements. Frankie’s head falls back, his cheeks red and tears stinging the corner of his eyes. And while Santi gives his best friend the greatest handjob of his life, his hips cant up into yours. You know you’re going to feel the ghost of his cock inside the next day. Santi’s relentless, his brows furrowed with concentration as he jerks Frankie off and fucks you. 

He bites into your shoulder, an acute hiss parting from between your gritted teeth. Suddenly a sharp spike of pleasure electrifies your skin, eyes wide, you look down to see Frankie furiously rubbing your clit. He gathers the slick that accumulated around Santi’s cock and drags the digits back to the sensitive bundle of nerves. The way he draws quick circles is much smoother now. Santi chuckles, his fingers squeezing around Frankie’s cock, he groans at the strain. 

“I guess you do know a thing or two,” Santi keens. “Good boy Fish,” 

“Don’t sound so goddamn impressed,” Frankie huffs out a laugh. Whatever haze he was in earlier, the thing that made him meek and submissive for Santi, had started to dissipate. “Now make us cum– that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

You genuinely have no idea what pushes you over the edge. It might’ve been Frankie’s skillful fingers, or Santi’s fat cock– Or the brilliant noises Frankie’s is making– hell it might’ve been all of it combined, but whatever caused it, a flash of white burns into the back of your eyelids. Your body stilling and tensing as both men continue their ministrations across your worn out body. Santi’s hisses at the way you clench around him, and Frankie moans at the way Santi dips his thumb into his slit. Frankie’s quick to follow you into the depth of ecstasy. He grinds his hips into Santi’s hand, coming with a sharp cry that sends goosebumps across your body. He comes in thick ropes, staining Santi’s hand and the floor. 

Santi’s lips find the crook of your neck, sucking your skin gently as he brings up his cum stained fingers to your mouth. You clean him eagerly. The taste of Frankie makes your eyes roll back. During all of this you seem to miss Santi pulling out, his length rubs along the softness of your stomach, cumming as soon as your tongue touches his fingers to clean them. 

The three of you breathe heavy breaths. Frankie falls back to the bed, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. He lets out a loud groan, which in return makes Santi chuckle. Your legs tremble as Santi lays you next to Frankie, and by instinct you nuzzle into him, nose inhaling his scent. It soothes you in an instant, your body singing with love and adoration you feel for him. Frankie’s arm finds your waist. While he pulls you closer, Santi stands up, looking down at you both with a fond expression. 

“Where’s the spare towels?” he asks, presumably Frankie since you’re too far gone to actually remember. 

“Bathroom. Bottom shelf.” 

“Alright, be right back to clean you both up.” just as he’s about to leave, he turns to you, eyes locking with Frankie’s. “Thanks for trusting me with all of this Fish,” 

“Of course,” Frankie sheepishly grins. “Who else would I trust? Benny?” 

Both of them laugh at the thought, you simply smile into Frankie’s skin. You’re drunk with pleasure and happiness, skin tingling. 

You’re already counting the days where the three of you can do this all over again. 

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch, @queenofthecloudss , @prettyouttherethoughts , @reaperofmen , @partr1dge , @bbyanarchist , @alwaysdjarin , @thevoiceinyourheadx , @absurdthirst , @levi-llama

#santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x f!reader x santiago #frankie x reader x santiago #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #kinktober #smutober #kinktober '22 #kinktober 2022

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 22 (finale)

Holy shit...now what?

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of unsupportive family members. Thanks again to the Sims for determining the outcome of this pregnancy. Mentions of breast feeding (a fed baby is a happy baby, no matter where it comes from!). Mentions of being in pain and on pain killers (C-section). Hospital setting but it's not too obvious. Mention of drinking wine. Like one swear word. Not proofread (what a surprise). Word count: 4,256 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This is it! The last chapter! Thank you again to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged any parts of this fic along the way, even when I took a 3 month break. It's been an experience writing this, but I've enjoyed every second of it 😊

Also, the poll figures showed that you mostly thought the twins would be girls!

Part 21 ● Series Masterlist

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the sting in your abdomen from your Caesarean wound and fresh stitches, where the painkillers were starting to wear off.

The second thing you notice is that it’s still dark outside, meaning it’s either very late at night, or very early in the morning.

The third thing you notice is, although it’s dark out, your room is softly illuminated by a small lamp in one corner of the room. You see Santi sat in the chair in the corner, looking down at the bundle in his arms, who was sleeping soundly, the second bundle sleeping equally as soundly in the plastic hospital bassinet by you.

You slowly sit up in your bed, hissing at the pain in your abdomen. You see Santi from the corner of your eye look over at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Do you need me to call for a doctor?” he whispered, still sounding too loud in the quiet room.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” Santi nods at you before turning back to the baby in his arms. You watch them for a minute, a fond smile on your face before you ask, “Is she okay?”

Santi gives his own smile before nodding. “She was fussing a little, but she went right back to sleep.”

You nod, looking at your new family.

Your daughters (daughters!) came into the world screaming and kicking. Isabela María, named after Santi’s mother, was born at 7:03pm, weighing 5lbs and 7oz. Her identical sister, Jasmine Terese, followed no more than six minutes later, entering the world at 7:09pm at 6lbs exactly. Dr Montgomery was impressed with their weights and sang your praises as she held them over the partition to show you each time, and they were the most perfect things you had ever seen. You had immediately burst into tears as soon as you saw the two of them.

They both had a head of dark hair, thanks to their daddy, and even as they scrunched their little faces as they cried, you thought they were the most beautiful things to have ever graced your life. Once they were measured and checked over, and wrapped up in some blankets, Dr Montgomery had them brought over to you and Santiago (who had been quietly sobbing to himself, but you’ll pretend you never noticed until the day you died).

The next hour or so was a blur to you as you were stitched up and the twins were taken away to the NICU for monitoring, to see how well they were breathing. With some reassurance from yourself that you would be fine, Santi never left the girls’ sides, keeping a watch over them. You saw him sneak some photos of the girls on his phone, looking like a proud dad.

You were wheeled out of theatre and were heading back to you room where you sent a text message to your friends, explaining that your babies were sent for monitoring. Santi was with them, and if they wanted to wait, they could, but it might be better for them to come back tomorrow. Your friends came to see you anyway, just for a few minutes, where Beth was FaceTiming Gabrielle to keep her in the loop.

As soon as Beth and Courtney saw you, they burst into tears, making their way over to you and enveloping you in a hug, telling you how proud they were of you and how amazing you did. You fought back tears of your own, telling them that you had had girls, which they both somehow cried even harder at, commenting on how you were all convinced you were having boys.

After some more fussing, and Courtney gathering her things, they promised that they’d be back the next day to meet them, and they would bring you some food from home because they knew how terrible hospital food was. You give them a goodbye, telling them to let Santi’s friends know that he wasn’t going to be out for a while, to which Courtney said that Santi had already text his friends to let them know to come back in the morning, and the guys left not that long ago. Knowing them, they’d be back the next day too.

Santi was back within an hour of your friends leaving with Dr Montgomery, wheeling your girls (your girls!) in their bassinets. Dr Montgomery gave you a smile, telling you that your daughters were perfect, that there were no issues, and you would probably be home in the next few days. You thank her profusely, before you and Santi are finally left alone for the first time as a new family. Santi dressed the twins which took longer than it should have (“They’re delicate! Have you seen the size of them!?”), and your heart fluttered in your chest at seeing them in their little outfits, looking soft and cosy.

A breastfeeding consultant was sent to your room to guide you through your first feed with your daughters, who took to it like a duck to water. You wanted to cry with pride, since they were doing so well already, being barely two hours old. You saw Santi look away with a slight blush on his face, causing you to smirk and make a quip about how he’s seen you naked (to which he gave you a look before turning away again, to strip out of his scrubs). He made a comment about going getting his overnight bag from the car, and quickly making his way out.

You felt a little bad that he felt uncomfortable around you still, but it was something you would both just have to work on.

Which brings you to now, where you watch Santi from his place in the armchair, holding Isabela as she slept. You frown at him. “Have you gotten any sleep at all?”

Santi hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not yet.”

“Santi,” you gently chastise. “Put her down and get some sleep.”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, I’m fine. Besides, what if she needs me again?”

Oh, be still your beating heart.

“I’m sure she’ll wake us up if she needs anything, and Jasmine,” you say gently.

With a final look at Isabela, Santi gives a sigh before carefully standing and taking her to her bassinet. He stands at the bassinet for a moment, just looking at her before he gently places her down. She made the smallest whimper before settling back to sleep with a big sigh. He slowly moves her bassinet to join Jasmine’s, before stopping and looking down at them both.

Santi doesn’t move immediately, just staring at his daughters, before he finally breaks the silence in the room.

“I can’t believe I almost gave this up,” Santi said quietly, sadly, without looking away from your babies.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy with the weight of Santi's confession. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a mixture of regret and self-doubt as he uttered those words that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of uncertainty, and you felt your heart break for him.

As you shook your head gently, your eyes met his. “Don't...don't think about that, okay?” you murmured softly, with a mixture of understanding and compassion. “You're here now.”

The silence lingered. Santi's gaze shifted, descending upon the tiny figures nestled in their bassinets, their innocence a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I was in special ops,” he says, his voice tinged with just the smallest hint of disbelief. “And that was less scary than this.”

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, the admission of his innermost fears laid bare before you. With a sympathetic gaze, you say, “Being a new parent isn't something that people just know what to do,” you reassured him gently. “We'll learn as we go, and it's okay to be a little scared.”

As you looked at Isabela and Jasmine, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a beacon of hope amidst his darkness of doubt. “They'll be so happy you stayed,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “They're going to love you, so much.”

Just as much as I love you.

You swallow against the words, knowing now isn’t the right time.

A fragile smile graced Santi's lips at your words, where he gives you a quick glance before his gaze falls back on the sleeping forms of his daughters, the most fragile beings in the entire world. Damn, no-one warned him they’d be so tiny. They were so peaceful and asleep, and they were so small! They were the most fragile things in the world. There was no way he was letting anything happen to them. They had to stay little forever so he could do everything for them.

“I want to be the father they deserve,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a newfound resolve. “To be the man they can look up to.”

“You already are,” you assured him, your words almost stern. He looks up at you, his eyes intense. “I know you’re doubting yourself, but you’ve got a great support system; you have me, Frankie, Will, and God knows Benny is already in love with these two.”

Santi gave a snort of amusement. “He’s gonna cry as soon as he lays his eyes on them.”

You give a small laugh before looking at him again with a soft look on your face. “You know, when you left after saying you didn't want to be involved...it hurt. It hurt more than I can put into words," you began, your tone mix of vulnerability and strength. “I felt abandoned, alone, and completely overwhelmed, but I was determined to do it alone, for our girls.”

Santi tenses, a look of shame overcoming him, but you continue before he could say anything.

“But you came back," you say. “And for that, I'm incredibly grateful. I’m happy that you chose to step up, to be here, to be a father to our kids.” You smile at him, seeing his shoulders relax a touch. “Though I’m still a little pissed that you left, I'm also thankful that you came back. I’m glad that we can navigate this crazy, beautiful mess together.”

Santi give a small chuckle before he reaches out to you, and you reach out to hold his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, for leaving. For making you feel like that, after everything we’d been through to get here,” he said. “I’m going to live with the guilt for the rest of my life, but fuck, knowing I made the right decision to come back was so worth it.”

And in that moment, amidst the commotion of your new reality, you finally felt a sense of unity with Santi, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You don’t know what the future held for the two of you, if you’d ever admit your feelings for him, of if you’ll eventually move on and find someone else, but despite that, you were bound together by the unbreakable bond of parenthood, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

However, in that fleeting moment, amidst the silence of the early morning hours in that hospital room, there was a small feeling of hope, slowly blossoming like a fragile flower.

“Watch her head, Benny.”

“I know how to hold a baby,” said Benny, giving Will a firm look before his expression softened as he looked down at Jasmine, who was sleeping soundly after you had just fed her and Isabela.

Isabela was settled in the arms of Frankie, who was lightly swaying as he grinned at the bickering brothers. Santi had left the room to take a phone call with his sister, Mariana, who had been checking up on him every few hours and was trying to organise a day where she and his other sister, Carmen, could come and visit and meet you and the kids. He was trying to put her off for at least a few weeks, until there was some sort of routine.

After your talk during the very early hours of the morning, Santi had decided to stay at your place, to help with the girls why you recovered, just until you were back on your feet. You’d protested, telling him that he really didn’t have to that, that you’d need him to do that, but he immediately shot you down. You tearily looked at him and thanked him, before Jasmine had started crying, to which Santi had no hesitation in picking her up.

“How you holding up?” Frankie asked you, still swaying Isabela. You weren’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not. “You know, after the whole…”

He goes quiet, nodding his head towards the door where Santi had walked out of. You smiled at him. “I’m doing okay. Glad he pulled his head out of his ass in time.”

Frankie grinned. “Took a bit of a verbal beating from us, after he told us he was leaving. The fucking idiot – oop, sorry.” He pulled a sheepish face as he looked down at Isabela, who had eventually fallen asleep during Frankie’s swaying.

You gave a small laugh of amusement as Benny looks up from Jasmine. “Your girls been yet?”

You shrug at him. “Just Beth. She came this morning with Georgia, they left not long before you got here. Gabs and Courtney are gonna come by later when Courtney’s finished work. Gabs has the kids again.”

Benny seemed to stop for a moment, in thought, before he finally nodded and turned back to Jasmine. You don’t ask him why he asked about your friends, you just assume he was being friendly since he was sat with Beth and Courtney in the waiting room last night.

When Beth had arrived that morning, she’d immediately fawned over your children, bursting into tears at how ‘beautiful they were’, and congratulating you and Santi. She’d even given Santi a hug, then threatened him to never leave you after the first time. He’d admitted he was an idiot, and it wouldn’t happen again. She’d accepted that answer, but still gave you a look as she picked up Jasmine for a cuddle.

After a while, as she and Georgia swapped the twins around, she’d asked about your family, and if you’d told them you’d had the babies. You paused before you eventually shake your head at her, telling her that they hadn’t bothered to respond to your messages or contact you at any point during your pregnancy, so you decided to just…let it go.

Even if it tore you up inside.

At least you weren’t crying about it anymore.

Beth had pulled a face and told them it was their loss anyway, that they’re going to be missing out on knowing the best little girls around. You agreed with her.

Santi made his way back in the room, hanging up his phone. He sighed, before running his hand through his hair. “So my sisters will be arriving next week.”

“Ay, hermano,” said Frankie, smirking. “Grow a backbone.”

Santi wordlessly gave Frankie a gentle swat on the arm, being careful of Isabela, before leaning down to you and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Sorry I was gone so long, corazón, Carmen wouldn’t get off the phone.”

You ignored how your heart leaped at the feel of his lips on you. You weren’t going to think too hard about it, it was just because of the babies, it has nothing to do with you. You’re the mother of his kids, he’s going to be affectionate with you, especially when you had just given birth. He was just being nice. Protective.

Like you said, you weren’t going to think too much about it.

“I’ll get her and Mariana to stay at my place,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay at my place, Santi, really – “

“No, stop fighting me on this, I’m helping out with the girls.” Santi gave you a stern look. “You can barely walk, I’ll stay, it’s fine.”

Frankie gives you an amused look over Santi’s shoulder, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at him. You end up looking back at Santi, before giving a shy smile. “Okay.”

He grins at your relenting. “Thank you. I’m trying to make it up to you for being a dick to you, but you’re being too nice.”

“You weren’t – “

“No, he was,” said Will before you could finish your sentence, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was a dick.”

“The biggest,” agreed Benny, looking away from Jasmine to nod at you.

“Okay, okay,” Santi called, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not in front of my girls, please.”

You watch in amusement as Santi get’s ribbed by his friends, but he gave just as good as he got.

As the banter between Santi and his friends continues, you can't help but feel a warmth in your chest, seeing the camaraderie and genuine connection they share. Despite the teasing and playful jabs, there's an underlying bond that speaks volumes about their friendship. You know that your girls were going to grow up to be the most protected kids in the world.

In that moment, you realize how far you’ve come in the past few months; to an unplanned pregnancy and finding the love of your life (even if he doesn’t know it), and growing yourself as a person (and growing two persons of your own!). As you gaze around the room, your heart swells with gratitude for the connections forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances. How you truly know who your family is, and a part of them are in this very hospital room.

The guys leave after another hour, telling you that they were happy to help you out whenever you needed, before they were herded out the door by Santi, saying you needed rest since your friends were arriving later.

You bask in the suddenly quiet room after Santi closes the door after him. You look at Isabela and Jasmine asleep in their bassinets. Santi soon came back in the room, smiling softly at you before checking over the girls. “You okay?” he eventually asked you, digging around in his bag for a moment.

“Yeah. Tired,” you replied.

“Get some sleep, I can look after them,” said Santi. “But first…”

He pulled out a familiar paper bag from his bag, and a small box. You look at him curiously. “Is that the bag that Frankie bought?”

“After Ikea? It is,” he said, perching himself next to you on the bed. He passed you the bag. “I had these commissioned by Sarah when I found out we were having girls, which was why you couldn’t look at them. Then when we finally decided on names, I had her change them a little.”

You open the bag, pausing before tears fill your eyes. You give him a watery smile before you pull out the two matching, pale pink, and lavender patchwork blankets, decorated with embroidered white and yellow flowers. You run your fingers over the stitching, feeling how soft the blankets were. You look over them before your gaze lands on the bottom corner, where you trace your fingers over their names that had been embroidered in the corners. “Santi, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to use them!”

“Stop, they’re supposed to be used,” he said. “Even if they puke all over them, or other bodily fluids.”

You laugh at that.

“And these,” he said, handing you the box. “Are for you.”

You take the box, which fit in the palm of your hand. You recognised it immediately, and you opened them to see the two charms, in the letters I and J, with a red gemstone in each of them.

“Garnets,” he said.

“January birth stone,” you said, smiling at him as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You laugh at yourself. “I am far too emotional for you to be giving me things like this.”

“Stop, I planned to give these to you, I want to give these things to you,” he said. “I need you to understand that I made a bad judgement and a stupid mistake, and I’ll be trying to make things right for the rest of my life, for you and our girls. You’re important to me.”

You swallow against your tears, but you sob anyway, giving a watery smile. “You’re important to me too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, bringing you into his arms gently.

And you believed him.

“Careful, careful!”

“I am being careful, Santi,” you say, making your way towards your house from his car (his car!).

“I’m going to have to level these flags out, they’re a trip hazard – “

“You will do no such thing, Santiago, not with your knees,” you say to him, raising your eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge you.

He mutters something in Spanish as he carries the car seats containing your girls, who had fallen asleep from the movements of the car, to your front door, where he unlocked it and stepped in.

You had finally been discharged from the hospital, and you were able to go home. It had been a trying afternoon, with lots of tears as you tried to manoeuvre yourself with a C-section wound, and two very needy babies who just wanted to be on you all the time. You had to take a time out getting to the wheelchair, where Santi did his best to calm the girls, and to calm you.

Eventually, you made it out of the hospital and into Santi’s car, where he’d wrestled a little bit with the car seats before finally having the girls secure safely in the back of the car. Once you were settled in, Santi proceeded to drive well under the speed limit on the way back to your house. He glared at anyone who even gave him a funny look for driving so slowly, which made you giggle and make the quip that he could drive a bit quicker.

“No,” he’s said firmly. “You’re delicate, and they’re delicate. I am not driving any faster.”

You followed Santi into your house, where he was taking the girls out of their car seats. Gabrielle had been over to your house that morning, on your request, to arrange your house a little for your arrival. She’d bought some playmats down from the girls’ bedroom, and set up their bassinets in the living room so you didn’t have to tackle the stairs as soon as you got home.

Santi settled your babies in the bassinets before sighing, seemingly glad that everyone was safe and sound. “I’ll go and get our bags from the car, and we can have some dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Sushi,” you reply with no hesitation.

Santi gives an amused snort before nodding. “Sushi it is.”

“And I might have a teeny tiny glass of wine,” you say, grinning. “Just a small one.” You put your thumb and forefinger together, with just a tiny gap between them.

Santi laughs. “You deserve it.”

He disappeared outside, getting the bags from the car. You gently lower yourself down on your couch, sighing in relief as you get off your feet. Dr Montgomery had prescribed you some painkillers for you C-section for as and when you needed, and you know it’s going to be a tough recovery but with Santi’s help, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

He comes back in the house, laden with bags, before he sets them down by your front door, and closes it. He takes a look around your living room properly, saying, “You’ve made this place pretty nice.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands last week,” you say. “I needed something to do.”

Santi nodded, before his eyes drift over to Jasmine, who started fussing in her bassinet. As you went to stand, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you back down, before pulling his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Here, have a look at what you want to eat, I’ll settle her.”

You take his phone and thank him as he made his way over to Jasmine, cooing at her, asking her what’s wrong as he lifted her from her bassinet. He set about to change her diaper. You scroll through the food app for a moment before your eyes drifted over to him, admiring him without his knowledge.

You felt happy. Content. This wasn’t what you imagined your life would turn out like, and sure, you and Santi did things a little unconventionally, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Everything worked out in the end, even if Santi did have a wobble about becoming a dad, even if your feelings for him will go unsaid and kept to yourself. You were okay with that, as long as he was there for your girls.

You sigh as you smile at the scene before you, of Santi telling Jasmine about his early days in the army, how he met Uncle Frank, and how loved they already were. Even though you did everything backwards with Santi and your girls, you look forward to the next chapter of your life and couldn’t wait to see what it brought.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia is a girl dad #change my mind

[geo-winchester]

Prompt 48 with Santi?

THE KEY

A/N: hi lovely anon, thank you so much for your request I hope this is what you want, I hope you don’t mind that this took me a lot of time to write but I have a few melt downs and I’m deeply sorry, uh I hope that you like it! Lots of loves.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia masterlist

—————————

When the doors of the elevator got open you knew that something bad happened, Santiago was sitting outside your door, he look at you when he heard your groceries falling from your hands, he got close to you, he hold the groceries from the floor, he took his time to looked at you, when he did you could see the pain and shame in his eyes, he was about to talk but you shook your head. 

-No, I don’t want to hear it here- you said. 

He silently followed you through the hallway and into your apartment, the two of you sat on the island of the kitchen, for a few minutes none of you said a word, it was just the two of you looking at your hands until you sighed and looked at him.

-Is he…- you couldn’t finish your sentence, Santiago took the dog tags of your brother.

-I know he wants you to have this- the tears start to fall from your cheeks -Lo siento mucho…

-mierda, this can’t be happening, he was excited for your trip to Colombia…- then it hit you -It wasn’t a simple trip right?- he shook his head -did… did he suffer?- Santiago didn’t know how to answer that question but before he could, you couldn’t hold it anymore and started crying, he held you in his arms as you cried for your brother -does Molly and the girls know?- he nodded and started to search for something in his pockets.

-I know this isn’t going to bring him back but this is for you- he said giving you part of the money they stole, you look at it as if it was dangerous.

-I can’t take it…

-¿por que no?

-because I can’t- you said.

-You can buy a better place, go on a trip, relax…

-Then you take it, do all those things- you said a little angry, you sighed before you look at him -I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be mean to you- you said as you play with your brothers ID -do you have somewhere to stay? 

-I’m going to find a hotel…

-I have a spare room, it’s not a hotel but it’s clean and I just buy some food so if you want, you can stay here.

-I don’t want to bother you, I’m planning to stay for a couple of days… 

-It’s no bother Santi- you said and noticed that he was smiling at you -what?

-It’s the first time you said my name- he said, making you blush for some reason.

-I used it before, you on the other hand always called me.

-Bean- he said with a smile -I remember how excited you were when you make a plant grown from a bean- you laugh.

-It was bigger than any other plant from my classmates- you said proudly -but my point is that I say your name more than you said my name.

-That’s because you only used it when you got mad because I dragged your brother into something- your smile dropped -I… I’m really sorry, Bean.

-For what?- suddenly you noticed that he was struggling with something.

-It’s my fault- he said -Tom is dead because of me- you look at him -It was my mission, I knew how dangerous it was, but we all need the money and… I should stop him when I could, I should know that someone was following us- he cleaned the few tears. 

-I…

-I’ll go- he said as he stood up but you took his hand before he was able to walk away.

-Please don’t- you said - I actually don’t want to be alone right now- he nods.

After that night the two of you started to spend a lot of time together, he was there every time you needed it, just as you were there all those nights when he woke up with a nightmare. One of those nights he held you close and whispered how much he loved you, you didn’t hesitate to say it back. It’s been a few months since you started dating, as any other night when you had to work late, he waited for you outside of your work, he put an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple. 

-how was your day, amor?- he asked, you shrugged.

-It was busy, I had a meeting with Collin for an hour, then Maxine needed my help with a few numbers and my coffee got cold like three times…

-Did you have time to eat?- he asked you, you tried to remember. 

-I think I ate a salad. 

-Crees?- he asked. 

-Well I remember eating something but I’m not sure what- he shook his head before he took your hand -where are you taking me?

-vamos- he said -I know a place- you walk for a couple of minutes before he stops an infant in a hot dog car, you couldn’t help but laugh -que? I didn’t say it was a fancy one, he gave you your meal, he smiled at you with the little moan that you gave when you took the first bite. 

-Thank you- you said. 

-I also have something for you- he said before he gave you a key, you looked at him confused.

-What is this?

-It’s a key for my new place- he said as it was obvious.

-If you didn’t like my place you could just say it- you joked making him roll his eyes.

-Actually I was hoping that you would move in with me- he said -vamos, I want to show you this place- he took your hand. 

-You know this could wait for tomorrow right?

-lo se, but we're close so why wait?

He wasn’t wrong, it was close, but this place wasn’t what you expect, you saw a building with a couple of apartments but the building in front of you was a house, if you were honest it was how you picture your place, a small house with a brick wall, with that glow of home. You notice that he was looking at you expecting your reaction. 

-Santi… this is a house, I thought you got an apartment. 

-¿No te gusta?…

-No is not that, actually I love it…

-Pero?- he said.

-But I thought that you wanted an apartment, I wasn’t expecting this- he looks at the house and you notice the soft smile that appears in his face. 

-Actually I saw this place a few years ago, when me and Redfly came to visit you, we walk in front of this place and I saw it was on sale, I didn’t know why but I got the feeling that this would be my home, a place where I’ll grow old with the woman I love, maybe we’ll have a pet and if we want them a few kids, running through the house…. I picture everything and then I walk this street last week and I remember that crazy dream I had and if you’re wondering who I picture growing old it was you- he said looking at you, you could feel the blush growing in your face- I want all of that with you, amor.

-Santi, is this your way to propose?

-Depends- you scoffed. 

-On what? 

-On if you’ll say yes- he said as he showed you a small ring. 

-Santi…

-So what do you say?

-Yes- you said as the two of you smiled and kissed. 

-So, Mr Garcia, are you going to show me our future home?- he nodded before he kissed your hand. 

-Come on Bean, I’ll give all the decorations to you…

-What about that pet?- He thought for a second. 

-I’ll think about it- he said with a grin as he dragged you to the house. 

Xxxxxxxx

Tag list: @writefightandflightclub @mariesackler @multifandomlife22 @mattmurdocksscars @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @ofstarsandvibranium @santigarcia @itspdameronthings @ahookedheroespureheart @later-gators12 @22carolina08 @poppyflower-22

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#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia imagine #santiago x reader

[kittyofalltrades]

Last Minute Under the Table

You get a last minute invite to a work party. But under the table is where all the action is. Thanks to @welcometostayingawake for enabling me and keeping me motivated. :)

Words:1607

Rating: Explicit 18+ ONLY MDNI

Characters: Benny Miller, Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Reader (No use of Y/N)

Beta: Me I still can't spell lol (literally if you catch a mistake let me know)

WARNINGS: Hint a knife kink (no blood and no blade applied to skin), Food play (licking off fingers and chest), Public/Semi public sex, fingering, handjob, profanity NOT A DARK FIC I REPEAT NOT A DARK FIC

!!!!!!!!!!!!NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!

You sat at a table in the back of the large party room nursing your beer, and glaring at the men brave enough to come near. You’d received a last-minute invitation from Will, your supervisor, after he failed to send out a guest list. And so far all the other guest where drunk retirees with nothing to do with themselves or people that acted like they had better things to do than to attend. 

Except those three, his friends and brother, he’d said when he introduced them to you. Benny Miller tall, blond, athletic and sexy, with smoldering blue eyes. Santiago “Pope” Garcia salt and pepper curls, great ass and a quick smile after a beer or two. Frankie “Catfish” Morales, tall, patchy facial hair but sweet. You listed their names in your head as you watched them surround Will. If you hadn’t had your eyes trained on Benny, you might have missed the nudge and nod in your direction he gave Santi. An action that made you roll your eyes at them.

Benny watched the woman Will worked with roll her eyes and head to a deserted table in the back. That gave him hope that tonight he’d actually be able to make a move. He’d seen her around, but Will had given him strict orders to stay away. Something about not fucking his coworkers and him being a womanizer. He hadn’t given that same speech to Santi, who was just as much a womanizer as he was. 

When Benny made his move, Santi followed closely at his heels. He was determined to take this girl home before Benny scooped another girl from under him. He refused to be left high and dry again. So where Benny went tonight he was going to follow, even if it meant zig zagging through a crowd of drunks. 

You took a sip of your lukewarm beer with a grimace when they finally reached your table. One man sitting on each side of you giving you smiles that came off lecherous instead of friendly. 

“What can I help you with?” you asked. May as well try polite since neither man seemed the type to be bullied by you.

“We just want to talk darlin’. Maybe make friends,” Benny drawled softly. 

You blinked at him in surprise. That was not the voice you’d expected out of him. Maybe a pack a day smokers rasp, but not the deep voice that sounded like it was built for reading filth. The twang he had added depth to this voice making you shiver a little under his blue—eyed gaze.

“We could be good friends,” Santi added, making you turn to him. 

His brown eyes twinkled with mischief as he dragged his tongue over his full lips, drawing your eyes downward. You watched as his lips quirked up in a smile before he dragged his tongue over his lips again, sinfully slowly. 

You barely managed to tear your eyes away from his mouth to take another sip of your beer. “Do you two always attempt to hit on girls together, or am I just special?”

Both men laughed, making you feel silly for assuming they were hitting on you. Until they both turned their eyes back on you, telling you that your assumption was correct, they both wanted you. You ignored the thought, deciding to engage the beautiful men in conversation, even as Will shot daggers at them from across the room.

Soon you were lost in the thrum of music and pleasant conversation with Santi. Finding out he had bad knees, but that never stopped him from putting in the work. Benny was a decent cage fighter, and could do his share of manhandling. You ignored the flare of want that rolled through you at both comments, trying to keep things civil and above board.

You were working your way through a slice of angel food cake, soft airy and heavily coated in whipped cream while you talked. Lost in conversation about the merit of video game movies when you missed your mouth with your fork. The missed bite sent the cake tumbling into your cleavage and left a smear of whipped cream on your face. Shame set in quickly and your cheeks warmed. 

You reached to pluck the cake off your tits when Benny caught your hand stopping you. 

“Look at our girl covered in cream, Pope. Doesn’t she look lovely,” Benny purred at you.

“Gorgeous,” Santi agreed. 

Santi dragged his thumb through the smear of whipped cream on your cheek and brought it to his lips. You watched as he licked it off with a small moan that sounded entirely too sexual for food. Benny removed the cake from where it sat forgotten on your chest and gave you a sinful look. 

“May I darlin’?” He asked with a downward nod, indicating the leftover whipped cream. 

You nodded mutely, thinking he was going to do what Santi had done and swipe his fingers through the mess. You let out a moan when he applied his tongue to the tops of your breast licking and sucking the whipped cream from your skin. 

Santi slapped a hand over your mouth. “Quiet hermosa, we wouldn’t want to draw attention, would we?”

Before you could acknowledge his words, his free hand dropped to your thigh. He dragged his blunt nails up your thigh, sending sparks of arousal in the wake of his touch. He paused when he reached the hem of your skirt waiting, for what you never found out because Benny’s sucking a hickey on your left breast drew your attention to him.

“Don’t hog her Benny,” Santi hissed while he pushed your legs apart. He worked his hands higher, coming in contact with your panty covered cunt. He ran his thick finger over your slit, smiling at the wetness he’d encountered. “She’s fucking soaked.”

Benny groaned against your tits, sending a shiver through you. He pulled Santi’s hand away from your mouth, giving you a hot sloppy kiss while Santi growled his frustration at your panties. You were so lost to Benny’s mouth on yours that you missed the snick of a pocket knife being opened. You felt the cool metal briefly kiss your skin as Santi carefully cut the delicate fabric away, exposing your cunt to open air. 

“There we are, princesa,” Santi breathed into your ear while he pocketed the tattered fabric. 

Benny pulled his lips away from yours and glanced around before guiding your hand to his cock under the table. “If you’d be so kind darlin’.”

You fumbled Benny’s cock out of his pants while Santi worked his hand back up your thigh. You stroked Benny’s cock, slowly marveling at his size and girth. If you sucked him off, you wondered if you could fit him in your mouth. Your thoughts shattered in an instant when Santi’s fingers found your clit rubbing in small, quick circles. 

You pulled your lip between your teeth, cutting off the moan that was building in your throat while Santi put his fingers to good use. Benny growled his impatience and gripped your hand and thrust upward, fucking your fist. You whined loudly when Santi plunged two of his fingers into your warm cunt, groaning himself at how tightly your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck you should feel her Benny. Her sweet pussy is holding me so tight,” Santi whispered and his breath ghosted across your skin, making you shiver. 

“Gonna let us fuck your tight little pussy babydoll?” Benny asked harshly as his voice and accent deepened with pleasure. 

“And my ass,” you moaned softly, imagining them stuffing your holes full at the same time.

Santi’s fingers stuttered for a second as what you said hit him. He couldn’t believe you’d offered your ass up to them. “Tell me what you want again, hermosa.”

“I want you and Benny to fuck my ass and my pussy,” you moaned softly.

The words had Benny’s cock twitching,, and he brought his fist to his mouth to cover the loud moan that was trying to escape as he spilled into your hand. The sound of Benny moaning and his cock twitching in your hand was enough to pull you under. The band of arousal that pulsed just under your skin snapped and you gripped Santi tightly as your whole body trembled with the force of your orgasm. Santi pulled his fingers out your wrecked hole and brought his fingers to his lips, earning a moan from both you and Benny. You released Benny’s cock and brought his spill to your mouth. You took your time licking his spend from your fingers, earning a moan from both men. 

Benny lazily tucked himself away and leaned against you with a smile. You pressed a soft kiss against his forehead just as Will approached, giving the three of you a stern look. You didn’t know what you did to earn the stern gaze,, but you wilted. 

“Really Benjamin, the one girl I told you to keep away from,” Will growled. “And you Pope. Why must you two make my life hard?”

“Something i is hard alright,” Benny said lazily. The joke made you, and Santi giggled at the pure childishness of it. A quick glance at Santi’s crotch showed he wasn’t wrong. 

“When they break your heart, don’t come crying to me,” Will grumbled before storming off. 

“The only thing we are going to break is your bed, hermosa.”

“And probably Pope’s shitty knees.”

You chuckled at the banter between the men you sat between. As soon as Benny recovered, the rest of the night was going to be interesting. 

Thanks for reading comments and reblogs will literally have me spinning in a circle like an excited dog...so feel free to do that

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[mlmxreader]

The End of Love | Santiago Pope Garcia x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Could u write for reader who's in army with the triple frontier. Frankie always caring u and u thought maybe he does like me too. And when y'all succeed the mission frankie catfish invite the triple frontier gang and u to his house, so u planningto confessur feeling. But turns out he did that to introduce u all to his fiancé.

U heart broken and being depressed (sorry for being drama but dude it does hurt so bad) and santi pope always there next to u accompany u to accept the reality until one day he confess his feelings and how he likes u since the first time he saw u??? Please

summary: he's doting, he's caring, he's kind, and he's always there when you need him... it's just a shame that you have no idea how he feels about you.

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of death and torture (it's the American military. they're war criminals.)

When you first joined the army, you thought it would be all fun and games; just messing around and being the big man on the battlefield. Nobody ever told you what it would really be like. Seeing Americans murder children in the streets and find the most cruel and unjust ways to kill those they saw as the enemy. Seeing the American army weep over civilians they willingly chose to brutalise and slaughter, treating them like less than animals and speaking of them as if they were little more than objects. You could never go back; even when Catfish and Pope asked you to go along with them, you refused at first, point blank telling them to shove it. You didn't want to see more civilians die. You didn't want to see soldiers begging for their lives as they looked at the barrel of an AK-47. Tears in their eyes as they pleaded with an army who was more than merciless towards them; pleading with an army who were little more than monsters. Nightmarish bastards sent over seas for little more than to secure oil and power and wealth, at all costs. You didn't want to go back to that at all.

You were glad Catfish was there, same as you were glad that Pope was there, as the two of them had always looked after you and had always been your support systems more than anyone else; you wanted to think that there was something there between you and Catfish, as you had always caught the lingering glances and the softer touches. You thought maybe once all this was done and over with, you could finally confess to him that you thought there might be more to your relationship than what was on the surface; when things were finally over, mostly everybody back home, you had hoped that you could get that chance when he invited you to his home for a party.

You were devastated and gutted when he gleefully introduced his fiancé; he was clearly in love with them, from the way he kissed them and the way he was so doting towards them. You couldn't bring yourself to stick around, and left the party before things had really even begun. You didn't speak to anyone for weeks afterwards. For weeks, all you had was Pope coming over to see you; he would cook and clean and wash your clothes and do all those things you just couldn't bring yourself to do during the day, and at night, he would watch a film with you, cuddled into your side, before kissing your forehead and promising to be back the next day.

He always arrived at eight hundred hours, sharp.

He always brought daffodils, bright yellow ones, and he always brought cans of Monster energy with him; once a week, he would bring thirty grams of Golden Virginia tobacco. If anyone looked after you, doted on you, it was Pope; he didn't even ask if he could, he immediately took it upon himself when he realised that something wasn't right after you didn't call him on your way home from work. You always called him after work, even when you were shivering and being battered by wind and rain. You always called when you were walking home. Always.

You were always in bed when he arrived, except today; while he was putting the hoover around in the kitchen, you had dared to escape your bed, and crept around for a cigarette. Pope couldn't help but to smile as he watched you for a moment; getting up on the stool at the breakfast bar as you lit up your cigarette and looked at him with a cocked brow.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, still smiling. "It's just nice to see you out of bed."

You nodded, grumbling softly as you sighed and stared at the ashtray. "Was I an idiot?"

Turning the hoover off, Pope sat up on the breakfast bar as he looked at you, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. "What do you mean?"

"I really thought there was something going on between me and Frankie," you explained quietly, "and then he introduced his partner and I'm... just thinking maybe I was a fucking twat for thinking that way."

He shook his head, humming softly as he chewed at the inside of his lip and dared to reach for your free hand, holding it tightly as he cleared his throat. "I don't think you're an idiot... not in this case."

"Really?"

"Really," Pope agreed softly. "You just fell for the wrong person, happens all the time... I did it, too."

"No, you haven't," you scoffed. "You're perfect, Santi, who the fuck is ever gonna reject you?"

"Well, there was one person," he started, "from the moment I saw them, I fucking knew I loved them, but then they fell in love with someone else. I still love them, though."

"They're an idiot," you grumbled. "A guy like you... I'd be surprised if nobody fancied you."

"Trust me," Pope stole the cigarette from you and took a long drag before giving it back. "There's one person."

"Why haven't you told them?" You asked. "I mean, surely, you'd want 'em to know, right?"

"They're not in the right place," he admitted. "They've just had their heart broken and... y'know. Y'know how these things go."

"Oh..." you fell quiet, leaning against his thigh as you sighed and gently patted his knee. "Y'know, if you ask me, I'd say all your shirts are made from boyfriend material."

Pope rolled his eyes, even if he couldn't keep the smile from his face, as he leaned back a little and let out a quiet yawn; you were so oblivious, and maybe he liked it that way, maybe he liked you thinking that he had his eyes on someone else. But it wouldn't be fair to leave you in the dark for too long. It just wouldn't be right. So he cleared his throat, and he ran his hand down his face.

"Just for the record... I was talking about you... I get it, if you need more time."

"I do," you admitted quietly. "But, uhm... but I could always, y'know... fuck. Maybe if we could go slow?"

"I can do slow."

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✰ 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐎 '𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐄' 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐀 ✰

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✶ BUNNY-GIRL (9.5k) ⁞ 18+ When convinced to retrieve the money left by Frankie and his team left at the bottom of a canyon in Peru, you have to deal with the most annoying person you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. 

✶ INTERDICKT (3.8k) ⁞ 18+ Your father invites Santiago around for dinner every Thursday, but he’s far more interested in eating you.

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