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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hurry Home

Frankie Morales x female reader x Santiago Garcia

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Reader is described as wearing feminine clothing and having hair long enough to run fingers through. Fluff. Domesticity. Food/alcohol. Oral sex (m receiving), mention of shower sex. Summary: A small snapshot of an established poly relationship. Notes: There is no world in which I do not want to be in a poly marriage with Frankie and Pope. End of story. I hope you enjoy!

The light in the living room is still on when you come through the door; the smell of long-cooked chili wafting from the kitchen where unwashed dishes sit waiting for the morning. You drop your purse in its traditional place on the little table by the door and immediately reach down to pry the high heels off your aching feet. Too many damned meetings have fried your brain and left you craving a hot dinner and sweet cuddles. Thankfully, that delicious smell from the kitchen and the sound of Yellowstone on the television in the living room mean that Santiago is home. Alas, the gentle snoring means he has fallen asleep on the sofa.

Intent on not waking him up, you decide not to turn on the light and move soundlessly around the kitchen in your stockings and dress, glad to have rejected your heels at the door. Santi’s chili is your favourite comfort food. It’s spicy enough to clean out your sinuses but so complexly flavored that he completely betrays his years of culinary school every time he makes it. And he never minds that you scoop it up in half a bag’s worth of convenience store tortilla chips every time you need that next level comfort. Tonight, you pour absurd amounts of cheap tequila and margarita mix into a novelty pint glass and tap the microwave button to stop the heating cycle before it beeps too loudly across the apartment.

You reach blindly over to grab a spoon out of the drawer and have one plopped into your hand instead. “Jesus Christ!” You hiss, snatching your hand away and just barely managing not to drop the flatware.

The snickering giggle from your right isn’t Santi’s.

“Frankie!” You almost shriek, face splitting into an immediate smile and throwing your arms around his neck without a second lost.

“Shh! Shhhh, love.” Frankie wraps his arms tight around your waist, breathing in the faded strains of your expensive perfume. “Santi’s sleeping.”

“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin. He’s already stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers from whatever he’d put on that morning and he looks good enough to eat. Damn the chili, Frankie is a whole three course meal in his own right.

“I rescheduled for an earlier flight.” It sounds almost confessional, the way he quietly whispers in your ear. “I missed you.”

“Mmm,” The hum comes up from the back of your throat. “We missed you, too.”

“Is that why you have the world’s largest and saddest margarita in that glass?” Frankie smirks, raising one eyebrow at the glass on the counter next to your bowl. That awful sugary bottled cocktail mix only sneaks its way into your home when Frankie is away. As a former bartender he finds it fully offensive, but he knows you like sticky sweet drinks.

“Give me a break,” you beg, pouting fiercely. This is why you were having such a big drink tonight – not only because of the day you’d had at work but to empty the bottle before his return. “I had four meetings today, I earned this sugary tequila.”

Frankie knows how hard you work, constantly proving yourself day-in and day-out in an office full of men where you are the best educated in the room but always last to get a new client. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m only teasing.” He plies you with a soft kiss, letting it deepen when you sigh to let him in. Your reunions are like this more often than not now, after almost a decade together. In the beginning you would be fucking against a wall within minutes of the door closing, so desperate to feel each other’s touch again after a business trip or other time away that you had ruined a fair few pieces of clothing in moments of enthusiasm.

Now you linger together and let yourselves melt into each other, usually ending up going to bed early with a bottle of wine. When Santi had become a part of your romantic lives, you had become oddly more domestic, but you all quietly agreed that that was due to age and not a loss of passion. In fact, the only odd thing about it was that it had taken so long. For as close as Frankie and Santi had always been, it had taken the three of you going camping for a long weekend for something to finally happen.

Soft became sensual becomes hungry, and proof of that passion shows itself in you shoving Frankie’s hips against the kitchen counter so you can drop to your knees in front of him in synchrony with his boxers hitting the tiled floor.

“Goddamn.” Frankie’s long, thick fingers flex insistently against the base of your skull, not scratching or pulling, but encouraging as he drinks in the sight of you in the glowing shadow of the flickering living room television.

You have only gotten more gorgeous as you’ve gotten older, growing from an adorable little imp to an elegant and confident woman who owns her curves instead of hiding them. He’s always loved your body in every form, but he loves even more the way you’ve come to love yourself. With that confidence in yourself had come even more confidence as a lover – and he is more than okay with that. He simply wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t show you the vocal appreciation he has for your skills with your tongue. “Fuck, baby girl,” he moans, humming so deeply that he practically purrs.

“You know he’s just going to keep taking more out of town jobs if this is how he gets greeted at home.” Santi’s sleep-thick voice joins the rather obscene sound of your mouth leaving Frankie’s cock and your eyes flick up to Santi with an amused glint.

“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t give him the same hello?” You tease. These men always make you smile. And moan. They always make you moan.

“Of course not.” Santi’s hand goes to his chest in mock affront before he leans down to nip at your bottom lip. “I gave him a good fuck in the shower. Obviously.”

“And I’m the one who’s spoiling him?” On your knees with Frankie’s length in one hand, you reach for the waistband of Santi’s joggers with the other and feel your smile go lopsided as your eyes grow darker. “I’ll spoil both of you, then.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Frankie apologizes by pulling Santi in close, untangling one of his hands from your hair only to catch it up in the other man’s equally thick locks as they come together in a kiss. You’ll lavish them with attention here and then they will bring you to bed where they have space to work over every inch of you – the three of you falling asleep in a sweaty pile of satisfied partners.

When Santi had joined your family, you and Frankie had become a little more domestic. You had found the piece of your marriage that you hadn’t known was missing in a clever, loving third partner, and now you can’t imagine your lives without him.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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pimosworld · 2 months

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Unrequited

adjective; (of a feeling, especially love) not returned or rewarded.

Pairing -Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence,depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity,unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposal(s)

A/N- Based on this drabble, I can’t get enough of Santi and Frankie but I’ve always wanted to explore how Frankie would be the one who couldn’t commit or settle down after the events in Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Chapter I-Lovesick

Chapter II-Pining

Chapter III-Yearning

Epilogue

#frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x francisco morales #santiago garcia x f!reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x reader smut #santiago garcia smut #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #oscar issac characters #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier au #francisco morales x reader smut #frankie morales fanfic #santiago garcia reader #santi x reader #triple frontier moodboard

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the-little-ewok · 9 months

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Hard at work

Santiago Garcia X F!Reader

Rating : E/18+

Word count : 3800 (ish)

Warnings : SMUT, office setting (power play dynamics), PIV, unprotected sex, fingering, Dom!Santi (pretty soft), oral (f/receiving), lil bit dirty talk, reader wears a skirt, fluff, semi public sex (I guess. But not really?), Marking, *additional warnings under the fic at the end because spoilers ( nothing bad)

Prompts / summary : “I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional.”, "I think I've made my intentions clear", "Noone needs to know" / Santiago Garcia is your boss. And you should absolutely not be fucking your boss on his desk during the work day…

A/N : I've chosen to put some warnings at the end of the fic as I want to keep a couple of surprises. Nothing bad or super triggering I promise. But if you are worried please check before you read.

Thank you Vi for the hilarious tongue in cheek title 😂 and to the anon who requested!

Please if you read take time to reblog and maybe leave a comment or a couple of tags! The only way writers keep writing is if they hear from you.

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Ping

S. Gacia: I need to talk to you in my office. Now.

You stare at the message on your computer screen, debating if you could think of a good enough excuse not to go, unsure if you could keep your composure when you were alone with your boss today.

It wasn't that you were avoiding him exactly. You liked your boss, you really did. He was hard working, fair, supportive, maybe a little demanding at times, well, actually demanding all the time, but he was hot, in a sort of 'your daughter calls me daddy too' kinda way. He had the eye of every girl in the office, yours included. Most people would be glad to have a boss like him.

The problem was he always seemed to find an excuse to be inappropriate with you — pressing up against you as he leans over you to get a coffee mug out of the cupboard in the break room, brushing his hand against your thigh during meetings, looking at you, and not just a normal look, a complete undressing eye fuck that made your face heat and your thighs press together. He made you want him all the damn time.

And while so far nothing has happened at work, everyone else in the office has noticed the growing situation between you. Disappearing away from your pc to meet with him would only add fuel to the fire.

Ping.

S. Garcia : When I say now, I mean now.

With no good excuses coming to mind you get up with a sigh, smoothing down your skirt and making your way over to his office.

The door is pushed open already, Santiago sitting at his desk, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons undone, giving an air of relaxedness, but you can tell he's anything but. Your heart gives a now all too familiar flutter in your chest.

"Mr Garcia?"

You tap the door lightly to get his attention. He gestures you in with a silent wave of his hand, barely looking away from the laptop as you step into the room.

"One moment, and shut the door" he instructs you, tapping away at the keys and muttering in Spanish to himself. You swallow hard as you close the door behind you.

Eventually, your boss sighs, rubbing his hands down his face and shutting his laptop.

"Is everything okay?" You venture inquisitively. Perhaps whatever has frustrated him is the reason he called you in here? Maybe he needs your help with work?

Santiago gets up from his desk, coming around to stand in front of you, just a few steps from where you awkwardly shuffle your feet, waiting for him to speak.

"We need to talk."

You can't help but go through a mental rolodex of things you might have done that you need to talk about with him, but nothing comes to mind.

"I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional," he continues, leaning back against the polished wood with a sigh, as though it's your fault, as though you've done something to encourage him. Perhaps you have. You did specifically pick this outfit today, hoping it would spark his attention, and as his eyes roam a slow trail from your toes to your face, licking his lips, you know it worked, but maybe a little too well.

You choose the innocence card, pretending there hasn't been an underlying tension since you started working together.

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

He doesn't even hesitate for a second before he answers, clearly expecting your response. His dark eyes bore into yours, blatant desire shining through.

"I think you are."

You swallow hard. Sure you might have hoped to get a reaction out of him, but you hadn't actually expected it to work. Especially not when there were specific rules in place about office relationships, especially during work hours.

"No one needs to know," he offers slickly, like putting a deal on the table, some form of forbidden contract. He steps towards you, then around you, coming to stand at your back, close enough that you can feel the warmth from his body.

He leans into you, gripping your upper arms and then slowly allowing his palms to slide down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers.

"It's just us in here. Nobodys going to know what happens here today." His hands ghost over the tips of your fingers, continuing down, stepping closer so his body is pressed up against yours.

"Mr Garcia, I don't think this is the time. We have…we have… work to do." You stutter out as his hands map the curve of your hips, pressing himself against your back. Even as you speak your body leans back against him, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, betraying your every thought about him. You can almost feel the smug smile he's probably wearing, knowing he was right in his assumption that this isn't one sided, and that you really aren't thinking about the work piled on your desk.

Your eyes flutter closed as he presses a trail of kisses down your neck, before his tongue licks its way back up to take your earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently.

"Work can wait. I think I've made my intentions clear," he breathes against your skin. He says it like you have a choice about what happens next. Like there's any possible world in which you would say no.

But you aren't going to let him have the upper hand entirely. You can't just collapse into his arms and beg him to fuck you. He might be your boss, but that doesn't mean you can't have your own fun too.

"I'm really not sure I understand what you mean? Perhaps you'll have to be a little more direct, sir."

There's a hitch in his breath that lets you know the sir hit exactly the way you expected it to.

What you aren't quite expecting is the way he nudges you forward before pressing a hand between your shoulders, forcing you down, bending over his desk. The touch isn't violent or forceful, he isn't the sort of man to do that, but it's commanding enough for you to willingly follow the direction.

Taking both your hands in his he presses them down onto the desk, leaning over you.

"I can make my intentions as clear as you need," he growls, standing back up. "Don't move, or you're fired."

You'd like to think you know him well enough that it's probably an empty threat, but damn does it make your pussy flutter anyway. You press your palms harder against the cool wood, resigned to let him do as he wills with you.

His hands slip across your hips and down over your ass, admiring your position, before he hooks his fingers under the edge of your skirt and raises it, just a little. He's testing you. It's a silent request about how far you want this to go.

You don't move to stop him, so he lifts your skirt the rest of the way, almost delicately slowly, hitching it up over your hips.

He gives a soft hum of appreciation at the pretty lace panties you're wearing, the ones already starting to soak through with your arousal at the fact your boss has you bent over his desk, admiring your ass.

"Pretty," he drawls, pulling back the elastic and letting it snap against your skin, giving a stinging bite and making you gasp. "Not very work appropriate though."

You open your mouth to offer a sarcastic response that people at work don't usually see your panties, but the words catch in your throat as he slides his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down quickly, letting them fall the rest of the way, fully exposing you.

Not satisfied with that, he uses his foot to tap your ankle, encouraging you to lift first one foot, then the other, stepping out of your panties before he kicks them to one side.

"Spread your legs."

If you weren't wet before the gush of arousal you have at his words certainly soaks you now. It isn't a question, it isn't a request, it's an instruction, a command. You spread your legs just a little.

Santiago nudges them further apart with his foot, spreading you for his benefit, before he grabs your ass, squeezing as he surveys you with a groan.

"You're practically dripping on my carpet," he comments, making your face heat.

You hear the whisper of fabric and glancing behind you you see him kneel on the floor, his hands dropping to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh.

He meets your shocked gaze.

"Now let me be very, very clear in what I want."

The broken noise that leaves your throat as he licks a hot stripe through your folds isn't one you've ever made before, your body jolting forward on the desk.

Your rational brain tells you this is a bad idea. You should be working, not letting your boss eat you out on his desk of all places. But then he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard, and you can't seem to care about work anymore.

You quickly realise he's too good at this, too good at making you tremble all too quickly, taking long slow laps at your clit, pressing his hot tongue deep inside you, growling and groaning as though you were the best thing he's tasted. He has you on the edge of a climax in no time.

Your fingers dig into the hardwood, curling around the edge of the desk, biting out a curse as his tongue completes another slow circle around your clit.

You wish you could see him, tangle your fingers in his short curls, direct him how to throw you over the edge, but you suspect he knows exactly how, and he's dragging this out for his own pleasure.

"Mr Garcia…Santiago…" you hiccup pleadingly, barely able to get enough air in your lungs.

You don't know if it's mercy or torture when his mouth leaves you, giving a playful bite to your ass before he gets to his feet, gently tugging you up, unpeeling you off the desk, his hands on your waist, steadying you on wobbling legs as he spins you to face him.

"Clear now?" He asks, almost impatiently. His eyes are dark, your slick still shining on his chin as he makes a show of licking his lips.

"That was…pretty clear," you breathe shakily.

He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours, allowing you to taste yourself as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It's not the type of kiss you're expecting from him. He kisses you sensually, tenderly, it's slow and decadent. He lets go of your chin in order to slide his hand around the back of your neck, holding you to him as his tongue slides against yours, drawing soft little moans from you.

When he pulls away your lips are kiss swollen and your fingers are tangled in his curls the way you wanted to do only moments ago.

"I want to fuck you here, on my desk," he whispers against your lips. "I want to stain the wood with your cum so there's always a part of you in here with me."

Oh fuck.

You don't answer initially, forcing down the moan of desire that tries to escape. Instead, you lift yourself up onto the desk, feeling the cool wood against your heated skin, before you curl your fingers around the white collar of his shirt, pulling him close to you. You're done waiting. You're done playing. You're done being professional.

"So fuck me already."

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard as you both scramble to unbuckle his pants. He's barely shoved them down before his hands are gripping your thighs, tugging you roughly forward to the edge of the desk, lining himself up at your entrance, his actions messy and impatient.

Even so, he presses into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch that borders pleasure and pain, swallowing each of your moans with his kisses, letting out a low groan as he bottoms out, giving a soft nip of his teeth to your bottom lip.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Pussy is so wet for me," he slurs, taking your chin back in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "How much have you thought about fucking your boss you filthy girl?"

Ring. Ring.

The sharp trill of the phone cuts in, making you both pause, turning to look at it mocking you from its space next to the laptop.

Shit. No. Not now. The timing could not be any worse. You need this. You've waited too long for this.

Santiago looks at you, his gaze questioning. You shake your head, silently pleading with him not to answer, not to put an end to this yet.

He lets out a soft curse, glancing over to the phone and reading the caller ID.

"Be quiet," he hisses, leaning over you and to your shock, clicking the answer button.

You don't quite know how to react as he grabs one of your thighs, hoisting it up over his hip, forcing his cock deeper as he starts to thrust into you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you let out a choked noise, throwing a hand over your mouth to smother it, still shocked he's actually taking this call.

Santiago lets out a quiet laugh at your reaction as he speaks on the phone, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fish, what's up?"

"Just checking in on how things are going," the man on the phone answers easily, clearly unaware of the position your boss was in.

"Hard at work," Santiago answers, thrusting deeply into you with the last word, and you squeeze your eyes shut, desperately muffling your moans of pleasure.

You can't believe he's doing this, casually carrying on a conversation as he leisurely rocks into you. Your mind can't really keep up with the discussion— something about a BBQ on the weekend — too distracted in concentrating on keeping quiet, and hoping the wet squelch of your pussy isn't being picked up on the call.

You bury your face into his neck, trying not to allow the pleasure threading through you to give you both away. It's an uphill battle. Each steady thrust pushes you closer, your pussy already sensitive from his earlier ministrations.

You're not expecting it when he turns his head, his teeth biting down on your pulse point. It's just enough to send a shock through your system, making your eyes snap open, and your pussy clamp down on his cock.

Santiago's eyes go wide and it's him that lets out a choked moan, clearly far louder than he intended to. There's a beat of silence in the conversation as he scrambles for the phone receiver.

You have a moment of smug satisfaction at his panic, but the joy is fleeting, as when his eyes are back on you, smouldering and dark, phone in his hand, you realise you are in trouble. A lot of trouble.

"I'll call you back."

Click. With the press of a button the phone call ends, the receiver clattering noisily back onto the desk. Santiago's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough there will be marks.

"You shouldn't have done that."

You have a moment of panic that he's going to end this, leave you on the edge, unsatisfied, and send you back to your desk desperate and needy. But instead, he pulls almost all the way out of you, before slamming his hips into yours.

You let out a strangled moan. Every time you think he can't possibly go deeper, he angles his hips and sinks in further. You want to scramble back on the desk, give yourself a moment to breathe, to think, to process the bliss, but Santiago's hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as you fall back on your elbows, splayed out across his desk, being used solely for his pleasure.

Santiago follows your movement, bending himself over you, causing the angle of his thrusts to change just slightly and hit something bright inside you. Pens and papers clatter noisily to the floor as the desk rocks with you. In a desperate attempt to stop yourself from suddenly being pushed over the other side, you grab onto his shoulders, holding yourself in place.

There's a growing blissful ache in your pussy and muscles that lets you know you'll still feel this tomorrow.

But you don't care, you can't care. All you care about is the knot in your stomach tightening, your muscles straining, your vision whiting out. All you care about is the pleasure careening through you.

Your pussy clamps down around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your climax bursts through you. You give all pretence at being quiet, throwing your head back as you all but scream his name, uncaring who hears.

"Fuck, Santiago!"

The clench of your pussy drags him over the edge with you, and he muffles a growl into your neck, filling you with hot bursts of cum.

He pauses there, buried deep inside you, your pussy still pulsing as you come down. Lifting his head he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands tenderly massaging your thighs, slipping up your back to pull you to sit up, holding you against him.

When he eventually pulls away, his eyes roam your face, taking in your dishevelled appearance, pressing a final gentle kiss to your lips, before he slips out of you, pulls his pants back up and disappears around the other side of the desk.

You slide off shakily, your skirt still bunched up around your waist, turning to watch him throw himself down into the office chair, your panties dangling from his fingers like a hard won prize, back to his cocky, self assured, smug self. All traces of the softness he had only moments ago, wiped away.

"You won't be needing these back," he grins, opening his top drawer to drop your panties inside, before snapping it shut, his gaze daring you to protest as you stand open mouthed.

"Can I at least have something to clean-"

"No." He cuts you off, going back to clicking through his emails on his computer.

You have the realisation that he expects you to walk back to your desk with his cum still dripping down your thighs. You imagine the stain on your skirt, on your chair, one that probably won't ever fully come out, the stain like the one currently staring at you from the wood of his desk, a constant reminder of this day.

It shouldn't make your pussy clench the way it does.

You swallow, pulling down your skirt, ignoring the slick already coating your thighs, and give him a defiant stare.

"Very well. Will that be all Mr Garcia?" You mock sarcastically. If he was going to go back to professional, then so were you.

He doesn't even glance at you as he answers, dismissing you as though nothing has happened.

"For now. But don't go far. I don't think it will be long before I need to see you again."

You suppress a smile as you leave.

"Still working hard?"

Looking up from the document you've barely typed a word on all afternoon, you meet the gentle gaze of your boyfriend.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles warmly at you.

"Yeah, I haven't really managed to get much done," you sigh, glancing back to the half written document, knowing it's a lost cause for now.

"You look tired, baby. Your boss working you too hard?"

"He's pretty unforgiving," you hum, rubbing your eyes, your body aching with exhaustion. "Three times he had me in his office today."

Your boyfriend lets out a low impressed whistle.

"Harsh. Well, how about you leave whatever you're doing for now? I'm sure your boss will be okay with it being finished tomorrow. I'll run you a bath, make some dinner, then we can relax in front of the TV? Your choice of movie."

"That actually sounds perfect," you smile, logging out of the pc and getting to your feet, stretching your cramped muscles.

He holds his hand out to you as you come around the desk, pulling you into his arms and giving you a sweet kiss.

"I told you having two home offices would be fun," Santiago grins, his eyes bright.

Giggling, you shake your head.

"Yes, but I don't think we got any work done!"

Santiago shrugs nonchalantly.

"Guess that's the perks of being with the boss. I'll let you get away with it and make it up tomorrow." He winks and you laugh, knowing you both have a huge amount of work to catch up on now.

When he'd suggested you work with him you'd been hesitant for this exact reason. But he'd promised to keep quiet about your relationship initially, while you settled into the job, and for the most part, Santiago was professional in the office, although your colleagues had started to notice his almost blatant eye fucks. If you were honest, you didn't help the situation, sending him filthy chat messages, knowing he couldn't have you until you made it home. It turned out professionalism when you wanted to fuck your boss, was hard work.

You squeeze his hand as he leads you to the bathroom.

"Santi, can I have my panties back?"

"Nope," he grins positively merrily. "I'm going to frame them and put them next to the stain on my desk."

You roll your eyes, unsure if he's joking or not, but judging by the look on his face, you think not.

—----

Additional warnings (ending spoilers):

*illusions to infidelity/cheating (it's not I promise)/ role playing

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Thank you for reading! Please if you enjoyed take the time to comment and reblog! As writers we always want to hear your thoughts!

#santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia #tripple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x fem reader

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hoedamn-eron · 3 months

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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

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millerscoffee · 9 months

Text

at my fingertips

⟣ queer friendly fic ⟢

2.3k | frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: THROUPLE – everybody is dating each other!!, established relationship, threesome obv, smut w/ fluffy bits, piv (unprotected), oral (m - m receiving, m - f receiving, f - m receiving) – everybody's sucking fish's dick ok, cum play, kissing (m/m, m/f), dirty talk – this is all dirty who am i kidding. hints of sub!santi + sub!frankie + dom!reader. probably not the best spanish you've ever read - sorry! no use of y/n.

summary: you, frankie, and santi are celebrating your one year anniversary in costa rica after everyone ignoring their feelings for each other for three years – though frankie and santi for way longer.

A/N: just doing the lord's work, hold your applause. JUST KIDDING. idk man i've been thinking about this a lot lately, and i have a soft spot for two tough ex-military dudes (who look very bbg) making out (etc.) in reader's presence idk IDK IDK. please let me know if you enjoyed this!

An entanglement of three naked bodies bathed in the sunlight of a California King sized bed. It had been a year exactly, today in fact, since you and your boys decided to do this. To really do this, not just skirt around the subject for three years. You met them volunteering, hitting it off immediately. None of you knew it would end up like this. But three years is exactly how long it took for you all to come to your senses about this.

Now here you were, sandwiched between your two favorite humans somewhere in paradise.

Costa Rica, to be more specific. It was humid, skin sticky between the three of you as you begin to shift, a reaction from morning light spilling over your eyes. Santi shifts with you, an inhale thick through his nose as he pulls you closer. You feel protected between the two of them, a lazy grin to yourself when you notice Frankie has taken the position of little spoon – his back splayed against your chest.

Your eyes remain shut while you drape your thigh over Frankie's hips and nuzzle your face against the back of his neck, letting your hand shift over top of Santi's when it snakes around your waist. Frankie's not remotely awake yet, but you can sense Santiago's eyes creeping open from the touch of your fingertips.

There's a part of you that knows he will always be on high alert from the life he's had, the life they've both had, but in this moment he is not awake in defense or protection, or a dream that has left him in a cold sweat. No, this morning is in full surrender. He feels vulnerable against your back as you press against him, his nose brushing into your hair, and you will your eyes open.

Gingerly, Santi thumbs over your abdomen in this lazy formation and it's enough to make you want to stay like this forever and feel a rush of heat pool at the base of your stomach.

You think you stifled the shudder fluttering through your body, but as always, Santi knows you better than you think he does. Without a word, Santi's fingers walk down your pubic bone, just over the mound at the top of your clit. You huff out a breath, noticing that you'd been holding your inhale. His touch bringing you back to earth.

This breath against the back of Frankie's neck makes the man to move a bit in his sleep and you both freeze to notice if he will wake up, not really wanting to disturb him. "Cariño," he whispers, his voice gruff and full of sleep and it's the sexiest sound in the world. You can tell he's barely done anything to make you believe he's awake, but Santi's fingers spread your lips apart and he marvels at how wet you are when he dips his middle finger between your folds.

"Amor, ella está muy mojada." The bass from Garcia's low voice vibrates against your back, and you try to not completely fall apart at the drop of a hat. But you can feel Santiago's cock stiffen, notice Francisco's body become more awake at the sound of his boyfriend's words, and it's almost too much to take. The heat in the room turns your cheeks and lips a feverish colour, and you bite down a whimper when Frankie rolls onto his back to witness Santi playing with your pussy like two animals in heat.

From behind, it's like you can hear Santi's lips form into a hazy grin the second he sees your shared lover – half proud and half eager to get him involved. He pulls his fingers from you slowly, and the lack of friction would make you whine if you hadn't witnessed those same fingers tempting onto Frankie's tongue. Like a kitten, Frankie laps at them, suckling your wetness at the tips of Santi's fingers with his big brown, sleepy eyes staring at the both of you.

It sears right through you.

Frankie wraps his mouth around Santi's fingers to tease you both, and a groan can be heard from behind you at just how good he is at teasing you both and you groan in response, pushing your ass back against Santi's cock. A hitched sigh escaping you when Frankie moves Santi's fingers from his mouth for one of your breasts. He moves down the bed to greet them as the lover behind you eases one, then two of his fingers into you. There's no need in preparing your body, you're so wet, after all... and a bit prepared from the night before.

Panting as you push the back of Frankie's head into your tits, his skilled tongue flicks at your nipples. Santiago has different plans, however, as he replaces his fingers to line his cock up against your hips. Hissing when he takes a handful of your ass to pull it back and expose your pussy for him. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, teasing the head of his thick cock against you. You moan, urging Frankie up to meet your mouth and you kiss him hard. With tongue, your explore his throat and a guttural moan comes from you when Santi pushes into your walls. He's thick and deep into you in no time, his trained cock rubbing against that spot inside of you just over the hilt.

"Ajustada– fuck. Fucking tight," you hear a growl against your ear, and you've done this enough to know just how your body gets to them both. You stifle what would be a scream when he moves his hips, and you desperately search for Frankie's cock with your hand. However he pulls your grip away and shakes his head, causing you to moan and let out a frustrated whine at the same time. New record.

Instead, he presses his forehead to yours for the moment, and insists you look into his dreamy eyes. "That's it, you're being such a good girl taking Santi's cock like that. I know, he's so big. Isn't he, princesa?"

The way Frankie is speaking to you sends your body into overdrive. Santi's cock now snapping into you with no remorse as his calloused fingers rub your clit just the way you do when you show off for them. Garcia's free hand grips into the front of your hip, urging bruises to come to the surface later on in the day, but it feels so delicious in the moment all you can do is cradle your bottom lip into your mouth and keep a furrowed brow.

You can't see Santiago behind you yet, but you know how hot he looks when he's fucking: concentrated, his hips moving almost magically, and the occasional groan leaves his throat right against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

What's worse is Frankie knows just how fat and thick Santi's cock feels inside of you because it's been in him too, and it makes your skin hot to know his words are from experience. So many times you've seen them together in one way or another, and there is nothing you three haven't shared with each other. You're irrevocably in love, and it brings your heart to new heights every time you're together.

This morning those thoughts flood you when you can't quite look into Frankie's eyes anymore. They're rolling into your skull, cock-drunk and all you can hear the squelching of your drenched pussy from Santi moving in and out of you.

You can feel him start to brink, too.

Morales won't let you slip just yet, though, and firmly grips your jaw, your body tensing. "Look at me, keep your eyes on me," Frankie is usually smooth when he speaks, but this demand is a bit harsh. Pope hisses at your tightening pussy in response to the man in front of you and you come hard without much more warning. Your eyes loll as your mouth slacks open, and Frankie knows better than to shove his tongue in your mouth – not yet, not til you've come down. "Thaaat's it. Just like that, babygirl. Our good girl." His whispers turn into petting of your face before his gaze is just above your head, watching Santi come apart, his hot load spilling itself into you when his toes curl.

Being a pilot, it makes sense that Frankie has a knack for taking care of people, but it's another level when he's like this. Your ears are ringing and stars fill your eyes, but you can still feel their presence as they praise each other. When Santiago leans over you to mouth and lick into Frankie's mouth. You groan at how it feels, how much it makes me want to stay like this forever. You lean up into their mouths lazily, licking into their kiss and they gladly invite you in. Tongues crash, and you feel Santiago squeeze you, holding you tight because you're their girl and nothing would ever change that.

The comedown feels like heaven with a view of the jungle just outside your window, and you nestle your neck into Frankie's jaw, his fat cock catching your eye from the position your head is in. "Can we share you, please?" You look up at him with an amorous glance, and Santi grunts at the prospect. Both of you making strained noises when he pulls out, but you know what the moan was really about.

Fish's face is still soft from sleep, but more possessive as his pupils are blown. Without saying a word, he takes your arms to help you onto your knees and positions your body to straddle his head. Your breath staggers, not really knowing if you can take another orgasm, but you can't help but sink down onto his mouth. His goddamn mouth.

Santi has other plans, sinking his body between Frankie's legs and he looks so fucking gorgeous like this. It was a long build up of years to see him this vulnerable, and you savour it every chance you get.

His mouth teases Frankie's cock and to watch it twitch uncontrollably sends your senses ablaze. He's a natural in wrapping his mouth around the leaking head. Frankie's cock must've been aching from just waking up from how flushed it was. It's too much to take in, blood surging towards your cunt in desire once more.

This isn't anything new, nothing to make you raise your eyebrow or question why things were happening the way they were, and when you sink your hips down over Frankie's mouth, you let out a sigh of admiration for the two of them. Your boys with their mouths preoccupied, love coursing through the veins of everyone in the room. Your body is still warm from sleep, growing stickier from the muggy weather and the heat rising between the three of you.

It's then Frankie's skilled tongue flicks over your cunt that you tremble. Bracing your hands on the soft form of his belly, his hands encourage you to sit down more and bring your weight on top of him. All the while, it's Pope who's in front of you now. Whose eyes are heated as they stare into yours, working the other man's cock in his mouth with precision. The sound of Frankie's muffled moans vibrate your core and send your hips to grind down against his tongue. A gasp rattling your ribcage, you feel him suck and lick Santi's cum from your cunt. "You're so fucking dirty, Frankie. You know what he's doing, baby?" You speak with seduction, ogling down at Santi.

"He's lapping your cum right from my hole. Such a filthy thing."

Both of your men moan at that, loving when you speak to them degradingly. You've never been too shy to put them in their place.

"Good boy, honey. Keep that tongue on me like that," taking your tits into your palms, you tug and roll your nipples. To feel the sensation, but you notice Santi's blowjob getting messier from his mouth watering at the sight of both of you.

Frankie's hands make contact on the breadth of your ass and it's cause for your voice to quickly turn from sultry to a slew of desperate whimpers. His tongue now merciless on your clit until, "Frankie!" Yours thighs are shaking on either side of him, unable to hold your balance, your body gives into bending over his chest. Now face to face with Santi and Frankie's cock.

Riding out the waves of please, Santi pops off his mouth on Frankie's cock, feeding it to you without giving you choice – he already knows you want this. Want to send Morales over his edge as you taste the perfect mixture of Frankie's increasing precum and Santi's saliva. His own mouth preoccupied with the balls of your shared lover. That's just when Frankie can't take anymore. "Ah, mierda!" You hear Morales behind you, his face pressed behind your thigh. His cum hits your mouth, almost taking him all down, but not quite – saving just enough to kiss Santi with. To share Frankie's cum with him, your tongues mingle.

---

When you all are spent – giggling at each other, making fun of each other lightly from just how taxed you all really are, it tugs your heart. To be held close in the comfort of Frankie's strong arms, Santi lazily stroking the other man's hair while you swirl your fingertips over the hairs on his thigh.

The three of you finally got it right.

After a group shower, the three of you spend the day exploring the jungle and beach, eating fresh fruit. You're all walking down a beach when lean down to pick up two seashells. A grin spreads over your face, knowing they'd have to put it back, but keeping it for the walk wouldn't hurt.

You turn around, handing them each a symbol of your appreciation for them in their own unique ways. Your companions.

"Happy anniversary, goofs."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia smut #by bee #queer friendly fic #queer friendly smut

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reveluving · 2 months

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I have another ideaaaa 👀 I imagine Santi and Benny being very flamboyant when it comes to showing their admiration for someone. Imagine Rick bringing lunch to reader’s unexpectedly just to see Santi bringing her flowers and Benny giving her the heart eyes. My poor flag baby might have a stroke just from the scene in front of hiiimmm!!

a/n: Aria, baby. it’s been a long ass time ✋🏼😔 BUT THE FIXATION IS BACK (kinda. largely because I’ve been reading fics after fics of Oscar & Pedro chars. RAAAAAH). so we’re here baby, after 1 ½? 2 years later???? ENJOY

warnings: humour & fluff; poor Rick just wants to love you in peace.

j.k. m.list (series under 'rick flag vs the triple frontier boys'), or check out my full m.list!

Oh, you know Rick’s eyes are TWITCHING. The paper bag in his hand, packed with lunch from your favourite stop, crumpling in his grasp, almost tearing at the top. Not the food though, he’s not trying to ruin his wife’s favourite.

But he’s chill. Absolutely chill. He swears.

Benny and Santi just had to stop by the same time he came home from work, both leaning against the white porch railing while you sat prettily on the bench.

Benny was expressive in whatever he was talking about, likely his last boxing match from the way he was holding the air in a headlock before the three of you shared a laugh. As much of a troublemaker they were, they were your friends, after all. He’d chase them off his property or warn them with a glare any day if it meant cutting off any form of ‘allegiances’ with that horrible past, both yours and his.

Just when you were about to reply to God knows what they asked, you noticed Rick lingering by the mailbox. Your eyes lit up, and it didn’t take the duo any other hints to know that he was home.

“Rick!” You enthusiastically waved at your husband, beckoning him to sit on the bench next to you. Rick couldn’t help but smile back at you, walking over and ignoring the two until he reached the top step of the stairs.

“Boys.” He greeted them, going over to shake Santiago’s hand before Benny’s, flexing his hands as they shook to see if the other would break. None did, as usual, pulling away and somewhat putting the tension on hold in favour of you. Rick took a seat next to you, passing you the bag of food and a soft ‘there y’go, baby’ (but not really, he made sure the two would hear it).

It took a few seconds, making sure he greeted you with a kiss before stretching his arm to lay on the backrest behind you.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“The boys just came over to say hi. Gave me these flowers from the flower shop nearby,” You raised the calla lilies that were resting on your lap. Now, Rick was no flower specialist, but he has been to the shop countless times to buy you your own fix.

And if he remembered correctly, they generally represented beauty.

Well played.

“And Santi was just telling me about this new Cuban restaurant just outside the neighbourhood.” You continued, turning to Santiago with an encouraging smile so he could tell Rick about it.

“Cuban restaurant, huh?”

Santiago curtly nodded to his curiosity.

“The best. Might even be your new favourite once you both try it.” He explained, only to glance at the paper bag Rick was holding—a look that was almost… Judgemental? Critical? All of the above? All Rick knew that the man before him was silently scoffing at his choice.

And, well, Santi wouldn’t exactly deny that claim, either.

Rick didn’t hide the scoff, only to pair it with a faux smile so you could take it as nothing more than a harmless banter, “Gotta be real good then. ‘Cause this here,” He cocked his head in the paper bag’s direction, “Is my wife’s favourite place. Our favourite place.”

Rick not only had to watch out for the bold claim Santi was making, but he also had to bear in mind the sight of Benny openly looking at you like a lovestruck puppy. The promising boxer didn’t even care about the passive-aggressive argument going on around him. He was just appreciating the beaut in front of him.

(Man’s just doesn’t give a shit atm).

“Hey, I’m not here to burst your bubble,” Santi huffed in amusement, raising his hands in a defensive way, “But I’m not trying to give the pretty girl any mediocre recommendations either. C’mon Flag, you, of all people, should know that we want the best for her.”

“Aw, Santi, you’re too kind.” You were touched and it showed, and Rick couldn’t argue with the statement. Without a doubt, he wants what was best for you, be it food, comfortable clothes, gourmet treats for the fucking neighbourhood cat you adore—anything.

In the midst of their silent argument, you reached for Rick’s hand, holding his larger ones in between yours, “I’m sure Rick and I will enjoy it,” He mirrored the warm smile as you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, only to break when you addressed the two, “And if it’s as good as you said it is, we might as well have a get together.”

Oh.

You were growing concerned of the two’s silence, eyes darting back and forth and almost—almost asking what was wrong until Benny, as if snapped out of his trance, finally, spoke up.

“Absolutely.” Benny raised his hand in a manner that a believer would in church.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Text

Mistake

Pairing: Frankie Morales/Santi Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 3000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Angst galore. Thanks to @vanemando15 for being a beta and @mermaidxatxheart for bouncing ideas around!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

It's bright. Why is it so bright in here? Blinking my eyes open, I'm met with the light streaming in through the curtains, shining across my face.

And then the headache slams into me.

Groaning, I grab my head, my fingers kneading into my temples, willing the pain to go away without having to move. I drank way too much last night and I'm certainly paying for it now. Nausea starts to set in, churning my stomach slightly as if it's preparing me for a lengthy bathroom session later. It's when I reach for my stomach that I realize I'm not wearing any clothes. A peek under the covers reveals that I'm completely naked. Well, at least I got comfortable before bed?

I play the events of last night in my head. Having the same best friends as your fiancé has its perks, but when they're all former soldiers, you definitely have to work to keep up with their drinking, especially with us being in Vegas. Our Bachelor and Bachelorette parties were combined, all of us simply hanging out in each other's rooms and basically drinking, playing the occasional game. I vaguely remember Santi telling me, somewhere between my 6th and 9th drink, that this was why he added a day between the party and our actual wedding. He knew we'd need to recover and he was right.

If you had told me 5 years ago that I would be engaged to Santiago Garcia, I would have laughed in your face. Not that he's a terrible person, but he's not the kind of guy I usually fall for. He's impulsive, hard headed, and a giant flirt, which is why it took me so long to realize he was serious when he asked me out. I'm honestly surprised I'd said yes, considering the amount of women I'd seen run through his home, some of them throwing things at him as they left.

I remember the first time I saw that happen. Frankie chuckled and shook his head, saying that's just how Santi is. Frankie is the one of the group I'd bonded to the fastest, quickly becoming best friends and remaining so, despite my desire to be more. But life had other plans, giving Frankie a baby from a girl he barely knew. And though they gave it their best shot, it didn't end well.

But then Santi swooped in and somehow, we fell for each other. And now we're getting married, which is something I never thought he'd agree to.

I roll onto my side, headache following me and I see a toned, tanned arm sticking out from the between the sheets. I reach out, my fingers brushing his skin as I smile, a handful of flashes of the night before dancing in my head. Santi is an amazing lover, always responding to my every need and desire with fervor. Something feels different about the memories, though I can't quite put my finger on it.

Rolling to my other side, I groan, swallowing down the churning feeling in my stomach. Soft skin, and that same arm wraps around me, calloused fingers gently rubbing my stomach, a sleepy attempt to help quell my quesiness.

"Santi."

I feel Santi scoot up behind me, his body molding to mine as he pushes his nose to the side of my neck, nuzzling into it.

His hand skates sleepily down my body, gently rubbing circles between my thighs in an effort to make me feel better. My pulse quickens, my breaths coming quicker as he continues to work me open. A nip to my shoulder sends warmth between my legs and my breath hitches. I bring my hand up, reaching behind Santi's head to grip his curls. Except, I'm not met with the tight, short curls of my fiance. These ones are longer, softer, more flipping out before becoming actual curls. My brain is rapidly waking, pushing past the hangover to process what was happening, who was happening. A small moan from him and my brain finally clicks it all into place.

Frankie.

I grab his hand and toss it from me, yanking my body forward to create as much space as I can considering I'm pinned under the sheets. He protests, his hands still reaching for me.

"Frankie?" I question, hoping to anything that I was wrong.

"Mmm?"

Shit.

"FRANKIE." I'm more firm, scrambling to disentangle myself from the sheets that now feel like a prison.

"Come back to bed. You weren't finish-"

"Frankie."

His body stills as my voice finally seems to permeate his sleepy, hungover state. He sits up quickly, hand flying to his head as he blinks, swearing under his breath as his head pounds. He whispers my name and I can hear the desperation behind it, hope that he's hearing things and didn't sleep with his best friend's fiancé.

"It's me."

His large hands run down his face, rubbing at his eyes before he finally looks at me, regret pouring out from behind his deep brown eyes.

"I- what..did we…" He stutters, already knowing the answer to the questions he's trying to ask.

"I..I think so." Tears well up in my eyes, my voice cracking as the weight of what had most likely transpired comes crashing down on me.

On us.

"Shit….SHIT!" Frankie yells, slamming his fist down on the bed. "What the fuck happened?"

I clutch the sheet, holding it up to my neck as the tears start to fall. "All I remember is drinking way too much and I think you offered to take me back to the room? Santi… I don't know what happened to him. But Frankie, what..what do we do?"

"I don't fucking know, do I? Shit, this is bad. I mean not that I haven't thought about… but that's not the point…wait. Are we sure we even really…"

"You had half your hand inside me just a few minutes ago, Frankie. Safe to assume we did."

Frankie is silent a moment. "Unless you thought I was Santi?"

"Does it even matter?"

An uncomfortable silence falls between us, so much left unsaid whether from fear or self preservation, I don't know.

"Don't look."

Frankie glances over at me. "Why not?"

"I'm getting out of the sheets. Turn around."

"Haven't I seen it all?"

"Do you remember?"

"Fair point." Frankie turns his head and shifts his body away from me, attempting to give me some semblance of dignity. Whatever is left of that anyway.

I extricate myself from the sheets, reaching down to grab my clothes off the floor. Which is when I see a certificate on the table. Pulling my dress over my head, I walk to the table, picking up the paper and scanning it, my eyes growing wider with every word.

"Fuck…fuck!"

"Did I mess up your clothes?" Frankie asks.

I wish that was our problem.

Grabbing the paper, I walk around the bed and stand in front of him, shoving the paper towards him. Frankie blinks up at me and takes the paper, slowly turning it around to read it. His eyes grow wide and he stands abruptly, nearly knocking me on my ass.

"WE GOT MARRIED??"

"I don't remember!"

"Fucking hell, I… I don't remember either!" His eyes scan the paper again, looking for the butt of a joke and finding none.

"May…maybe we can get it annulled?" I offer up.

"Could we?"

I shrug. "They did on Friends."

He glances back down at the paper. "That's only half our problem."

"I'm supposed to get married tomorrow, Frankie. What the fuck am I supposed to say to Santi?"

He looks at me, regret oozing from him. "I don't fucking know, do I? I can't remember anything to even tell him, aside from waking up with a major hangover and my hand shoved between his finance's legs."

He stands angrily and I back up a few steps to give him space. But he misinterprets my reaction and his eyes narrow.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"What? No, I was giving you space."

He steps towards me and I step backwards, my own back bumping into the hotel wall.

"I'd never hurt you. I've only ever wanted to love you and be with you but not…not like this."

"Like this?"

He gestures around. "Whatever the fuck happened." He takes a step towards me again and my breath catches in my throat. I'd given up on Frankie a while ago, trying to give him the space he would need for his daughter and his doomed relationship with her mother.

His hand comes up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger there, thumb rubbing into my cheek as his eyes find mine.

"I don't want you to marry Santi." It's whispered, but he may as well have yelled his confession.

"I..what are you saying?"

His finger traces my cheek as I hold my breath, my eyes locked onto his as I wait.

"I love-"

Knock, knock!

I jump, swatting his hand aside as I walk to the door, smoothing out my dress before I look in the peephole.

Santi.

"Querida, you in there?"

I glance back at Frankie who is still standing where I left him, pants pulled on but still shirtless. He crosses his arms, biceps pulling with the effort and he nods once.

Taking a deep breath, I crack open the door and see Santi standing there, smiling when his eyes meet mine.

"Querida you're alive!" He chuckles and takes a step forward. When I don't open the door wider, he stops, eyebrows coming together.

"Is everything ok?"

Tears fall, tracing wet paths down my cheeks. But before I can speak, Santi steps forward and reaches out, wiping them from my cheeks.

"Querida, what's wrong? What happened?" He's not joking around - he knows this isn't the time. His eyes take in my face, raking down what's visible of my body to check for any injuries.

Suddenly, I can't talk. "I…I…"

Santi's voice lowers, nearly to a whisper. "Blink twice if there's someone in the room that will hurt you."

Determined not to blink, I stare back at him. His shoulders relax after several seconds and he lets out a breath of relief.

"Querida-"

"I love you, Santi."

"I love you too, but what-"

I pull open the door the rest of the way, inviting him in. His eyes are on me as he steps in and I gently close the door behind him.

"Querida, what-"

Frankie had shuffled his feet and Santi turns around, immediately on alert for trouble. He relaxes when he sees Frankie, not taking in the situation.

"Hey, Cat. You're alive too I see?"

Frankie glances at me. "I survived the night."

Santi laughs. "Surprising. You had so much to drink. I'm nursing a mad hangover so I know you have…to…be…" Santi's speech slows, his brain making the connection between my tears and Frankie being shirtless in my room, the sheets all mussed up. Santi's eyes snap back to Frankie's after looking at the bed.

"Oh, what the fuck man?" I can hear him holding back his anger, hoping that he's misreading the situation.

When Frankie doesn't reply, the hope disappears from Santi's eyes, replaced by a hurt that pierces me straight through.

"You were supposed to get her back safe!" Santi yells, stepping closer to Frankie.

"I did! She's here isn't she?"

"She's here and fucked by you! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with her. I fucking knew but I thought you were over that little crush you had-"

Frankie moves away from the wall and steps towards Santi, finger pointing at him angrily. "It was never a little crush and you fucking know that. And you went after her anyway!"

"You went and got some girl pregnant! It's not my fault you weren't there."

"But you made damn sure you were there after!"

"Someone had to take care of her!"

Frankie steps closer, glaring down at his friend. "You fucking took her from me!"

"You fucked my fiancé!"

They were in each other's faces now, just a step away from each other.

"You never cared for her! Only wanted her after I said I loved her!"

Santi's eyes flash red, his entire body shaking. I've never seen either of them this mad before.

"I fucking love her, Frankie!"

"Love her so much that you sent her back to a hotel room with the guy who she's been in love with for years and who loves her back?"

WHAM!

Santi's fist collides with the side of Frankie's face, sending his head flying to the side, Frankie stumbling from the force of it. Santi takes advantage of Frankie's momentary distraction and lunges at him, fists flying and hitting their targets. Frankie rallies quickly, throwing his own punches, shoving Santi back, his head hitting the carpeted floor as Frankie climbs on top of him, fist raised and ready to slam into Santi.

"STOP!" I yell, but he doesn't hear me. I lunge for him, shoving Frankie sideways off Santi onto the floor. He shakes his head and looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes.

I turn back to Santi who was trying to sit up, blood gushing out of his nose and his right eye swelling quickly. I reach out to touch his face and he flinches, swatting my hand away.

"Don't touch me." It's quiet, but his words echo around my head.

"Santi, I-"

"Let me guess. You're sorry?"

"I am, but -"

"No buts. You slept with Frankie. My best friend."

"I didn't know-"

"Do you have any idea how much you're killing me?" His eyes are watering and not from punches. "I never thought I'd stay with anyone and then…there you were."

"I-"

"You pulled me from a dark space. One I never thought I'd be pulled out of. I fucking loved you, querida." Tears fall from his eyes now and my vision blurs with my own as I watch him.

"And now you've fucked my best friend. My best friend! You just-"

"She didn't know." Frankie hasn't moved from where I had shoved him to the ground, aside from sitting upright.

Santi looks at Frankie with digust. "Didn't know? Did she just fall naked into the bed then? Just an oops?"

"It's my fault."

"You wanna elaborate on that?"

Frankie takes a deep breath, his eyes heavy and weary as he glances at me before looking at Santi. "We were both drunk. Her more than me. I really only remember getting her up here, making sure she took off her shoes. I told her to change her clothes because she had throw up on them. The next thing I know, she's yelling at me to get up, shoving me away from her."

"That doesn't-"

"She kept calling me Santi."

Frankie looks at me, hurt in his eyes. "She thought I was you right up until she was fully awake."

"I thought you said you don't remember-"

"I'm getting flashes. She called me Santi."

"How is it your fault?" Santi asks. "It's not like you just let her-"

"I didn't stop her. She called me Santi and I didn't stop her. I should have…but I didn't."

He moves too fast for me, olive skin bunched into a fist collides with Frankie's face, sending him flying backwards.

"Fuck you, Frankie." Santi struggles to his feet, his hand coming up to dab at his bleeding nose. I stand with him, hands moving to his face to inspect his injuries. He flinches at my touch, but his eyes find mine and I break.

"I'm sorry." It's not enough but all I can choke out.

His hands grip my wrists, bringing them away from his face.

"I love you, querida. But I…I can't." He cries, tears falling silently as his heart breaks from the pain I put there. "I can't do this. I can't even look at Frankie, and you? You're the last person I thought would ever hurt me."

"Santi-"

He drops my wrists and heads towards the door, pausing at the table where the marriage certificate between Frankie and I lays. He stares at it for several long moments before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wedding band, my wedding band, and sets it on the certificate. He doesn't say a word and he doesn't look back as he leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The room is oppressive with its silence, despite not being alone in it. I feel like I'm suffocating, dying, like a part of me went with Santi and I knew I'd never see it again.

"I'm sorry." Frankie quietly breaks the silence.

"You're sorry?" I turn to face him. I know I am not innocent but what he just revealed makes me sick. "You knew I was calling out for Santi and you didn't stop me?"

"I-"

I wanna throw up, scream, throw things, something, anything to get away, crawl out of my own body.

"I trusted you."

"I…lied."

"What?"

"I guess I didn't realize how much you actually love him. And how he loves you. And I wanted to give you a shot so I lied."

I take a step closer, anger radiating out from me. "Lied about what exactly?'

Frankie takes a deep breath. "You never called out his name. Not until this morning before we both were….aware."

"Then-"

"You called out my name. And I just…I couldn't resist. I'm so sorry. I'm a weak person I know. I was drunk and in love and…" He gestures randomly.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out of my room."

I don't have to repeat myself. Frankie gets up off the floor, grabbing his shirt on the way out. He doesn't say anything but pauses to look back, regret and pain in his eyes.

I don't blame Frankie. The more the day wears on the more I start to remember. I definitely started it, thinking it was Santi. When I realized it wasn't, I didn't stop. Just switched to the right name, my long love for Frankie winning out over drunk logic.

And now I get to go back to an empty home, all because of someone's love for me that was not my fiance.

>>Mistake Part 2>>

-------

General Taglist:

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Note

Could I request a little ‘A got roped into a blind date by their friends. They don't want a new relationship and plan to make themselves as unlikeable as possible to dissuade any further possible setups. All of that goes through the window when they see how gorgeous B is.’ with Santi as person A

(if you get this twice I’m sorry I can’t remember if I sent this irl or not because I saw the post when I was hazy and delusional at 2 AM)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 912

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests! First time writing for Santi, very very excited about this one! (And don't worry ab requesting twice, hun! It was a very inspiring prompt)

Warnings: fluff, santi thinks he's unlovable, a bit angsty ig?, frankie morales is a good bro, poorly edited (author has BDE)

Santiago really didn’t do the whole dating thing.

The flowers and the small-talk and the footsies over cheese-stuffed appetisers.

He had a long-term relationship with running away, that strange, filtered aeroplane air making him feel closer to home than any of his mother’s cooking could ever hope to do.

Better put, he wasn’t relationship material.

It wasn’t a deliberate choice from his end.

It sort of just…happened.

Life had morphed Santiago into the jagged, crooked, ugly thing that he was now.

In all of his attempts (three) at the real thing, all his tries at the dart board called love, it usually always ended in the same fashion. He’d take her to meet his friends, she’d realise sooner than later that she’d drawn the losing hand out of the four of them, and it was downhill from there.

One of them had been kind enough even to enlighten him to exactly what he lacked.

You just need to be more…Frankie, Santi.

Though it hurt, it was good to get out in the open like that. The plain, mumpy truth, in all its glory:

Santiago wasn’t relationship material because of the amount of ‘Frankie-ness’ that was lacking in his blood and DNA, because he was the losing hand, the cracked skipping stone in the middle of a torrential river on the way to the safety of land and love, true love.

And so, in what would be considered a sociologist’s dream case study, Santiago did what he did best, self-fulfilled then self-destructed.

He was the intermediary for girls before they managed to find their Frankie, Benny, Will.

It was a tough truth to chew, left a bitter taste in his mouth, that he’d only been created for people to recognize their self-worth and move on. There was a disagreeable insinuation behind it, if he thought about it too long.

Which was precisely why he didn’t.

And he ran away instead when things got too hard, too painful. Like a thumbtack in the heel of his foot.

But Frankie on the other hand, Frankie thought about it long and hard. Too hard and too long, no matter how often Santiago told him to quit it.

From his seat behind the driver’s wheel, Frankie was able to watch everything with a keen, honed eye, his two ears moving back and forth like a great-horned owl’s.

And nothing was able to go past Frankie’s eyes without him picking it up and giving it a thorough inspection.

Which is why Frankie's been adamant about it. A real pain in the ass.

Santiago was the bachelor of the group now. The only single one left.

And Frankie was set on changing that.

No matter how much Santiago protested.

Will and Benny gave in to Santiago’s reality with a simple nod, the former’s eyes sad and sombre, the latter’s teasing a little light-hearted and half-hearted.

But Frankie and him had the strongest bond he’s ever experienced. Saving a guy’s life a couple times does that to you.

Santiago knows, if anything, that whatever happens in this god-forsaken world, that Frankie will always be his rock, the one constant in a world of possibilities and probabilities.

But it also meant that Frankie had some sort of gall that the others didn’t.

And tonight, he meant to put an end to it, swiftly and surely.

The sibling of a friend of a cousin.

That still doesn’t mean Santiago wants to be here.

Detached enough from them that if it all went to shit, the ripples would be minimal. Attached enough to them to make the small talk a little less small-talkey.

“You’re frowning.”

“That’s because I’m mad, pendejo,” he grumbles back at the baseball cap.

Frankie huffs and though he can’t see it, he hears the eye-roll.

He feels like a petulant child, like he’s being babysat to make sure he won’t act out.

Which is what he is precisely planning to do.

He’ll take care of it quickly. Despite his cynical, eighty-year-old with three cats schmick he’s settling into nicely, he still has a bit of heart. And whoever the poor person was that had been roped into this will be roped out just as quickly. No harm done and Santiago’s Frankie problem fixed once and for all.

With another huff, Frankie leans back in his seat and fixes him with beady eyes, “At least, try to be a little agreeable.”

He only grumbles in response.

It’s a white-and-red chequered tablecloth kind of place. Corny, romantic, candle-lit.

Santiago was hoping he’d never have to set foot in such a place again.

The door jingles open.

Show-time.

Frankie sends him another one of his glares, and Santiago sends it straight back, letting it settle on his face, deep into the grooves of it.

There’s rolls and rolls of nervousness fading off of you.

But you look nice-

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

The air’s been swamped out of his lungs.

This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. This weird, fluttering thing that’s been going on his body since he laid eyes on you.

Santiago’s vaguely aware that you’re talking with Frankie, thanking him for arranging it all.

And there’s a lull in the murmurs.

He hastily gathers himself up, the angry little press of lines on his forehead all but gone.

He scrambles for the flowers Frankie made him buy you and holds them out, swallowing thickly, “Hi, I’m Santi.”

He hopes that this’ll make for a hell of a first-date story.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x y/n #santiago garcia x female!reader #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia angst #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfic #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia imagine #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fic #oscar isaac

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

— CHOOSE ME | SANTI'S ENDING

happy belated birthday @pedrito-friskito 💜💜💜💜 this gift is from both me and @inklore we love you so so much and I hope you had the best birthday ever! thank you for always being such a wonderful friend 💗

pairing: santiago garcia x f!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst, second chance romance, smut

summary: leaving frankie behind, you decide to take your chance with santi. he takes you to the beach where it almost happened.

warnings: underwater sex, piv, praise kink, fingering, semi-public sex, mild breeding kink

word count: 2k

click to head back to the start

The look Frankie gave you when you decided to go with Santi broke your heart, but what’s done was done. You still cared for the pilot, which is why you decided to spare you both from the inevitable fallout that would happen if you gave the relationship another chance.

“So where are we going?” you ask Santi as he hails a cab. He smirks, gaze full of mischief.

“You’ll see,” he answers without truly answering. “Let’s just say I’m gonna take back the clock a bit.”

You have no idea what he means but his smile is infectious and you find yourself vibrating with excitement at all the possibilities that lay before you.

You look down the pier. The water is a vibrant shade of dark blue. Silver light dances over the soft waves, a gift from the crescent moon above. You shiver at the cold wind blowing, yet you crave the feeling of water against your skin.

Among all the places you never once thought Santi would bring you back here, the place where a kiss was almost shared.

A particularly big wave crashes against the wooden pillars. Beads of water kissing the tips of your shoes.

“Your silence is worrying,” Santi quips as he stands next to you above the pier.

You shake your head and smile. “It’s perfect,” you say, turning to him. “I’m glad you brought me here.”

“That’s a relief,” he hugs you from behind, strong arms tight around your waist. “I always regretted not kissing you that night.”

“Really? And here I thought I just read the signs wrong from that night.”

“You read them right,” he murmurs, lips moving along your cheek and dropping to your neck. “But. . . I saw the way Frankie had been looking at you for the past month and couldn’t.”

Your hands dance along his forearms, warm underneath the pads of your fingers. “What changed now?”

“He had his chance and he blew it,” You feel a hint of teeth on your skin, your lips part with a soft gasp. “I’m not going to let you go ever again.”

You’re speechless and your pulse skyrockets. Santi seems to be taking immense joy in your loss-of-words state as he smiles. His forefinger finds your chin, you shudder at how warm it feels, tilting your eyes to meet his, he smiles. “Let’s take a dip, cariño,” he says.

“In the water?” you choke out a laugh. “We’ll freeze this late at night.”

“We won’t freeze,” he answers. His hands begin tracing the contours of your body, heat blossoming under your skin. “Besides, I have ideas of how we can keep warm.”

“Look, even if I wanted to, I don’t have my swimsuit with me.”

He laughs, “I would’ve find it very off if you did. Who comes to a wedding with a swimsuit?”

“So what do you suggest then?” you ask, turning within his arms to face him.

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling with mischievous humor.

“You have underwear don’t you?” his eyes shine underneath the moonlight. “Unless you’re going commando. . . ” Santi’s eyes drop to your cleavage as if imagining what your bare breasts will look like. You flush from the inside out, stomach clenching at his mere gaze.

His presence coils around you like a snake, squeezing the air out of your lungs, he leans closer, crowding your personal space. His lips touch yours, warmth blossoming underneath the soft skin. You suck in a sharp breath, your bodies inch closer, and you can almost taste him in the air lingering between you two.

But he pulls away, leaving you searching for more.

“Come on,” he repeats, his fingers tracing your jawline. “Let me see every part of you. I’ll go first since you’re so shy.”

He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours, his fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt. With a deliberate slowness, he undoes them one by one, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. The moonlight dances over the contours of his muscles, highlighting every curve and ridge.

Your breath catches as he discards his shirt, revealing more of his torso. He's strong and lean, with a hint of stubble peppering his chest. A cascade of emotions washes over you – desire, vulnerability, and a touch of disbelief that you're here.

Santi's gaze remains locked on yours, tenderness in his eyes. He gestures for you to come closer, his hand extending towards you. Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach out and let your fingertips graze his skin.

The sensation sends shivers down your spine. Santi's warmth against your touch is inviting.

"Your turn," he says softly, his voice a gentle invitation.

You take a steadying breath, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. With a shy smile, you start unzipping your dress, baring your collarbone and a hint of your chest. The moonlight seems to embrace you, offering a comforting backdrop.

As your dress falls to the ground, you stand there, allowing the heat of his gaze to wash over you. In this quiet exchange, words become secondary.

Then Santi suddenly jumps.

“H-Hey!” you call out, worried. You’re left only in your bra and underwear as you look down. Santi’s there, waiting for you, droplets of water dripping from his hair. You shudder, skin tingling with goosebumps. His brows furrow with worry when he meets your gaze.

“Come on, jump in. You’re going to freeze up there.”

“Sorry, the longer I stare the more scared I get,” your body trembles, but a soft smile tugs at your lips. “You promise not to let me drown?”

“Of course.”

And you jump.

It's a bit daunting at first. You've never been one to easily open your eyes underwater, dreading the sting of salt against them. The initial coolness of the water sends a shiver down your spine, a sensation akin to steel touching your skin. Your limbs sway as you kick your legs and move your arms, the anticipation of resurfacing tugging at your senses. Yet, something surprising happens – the water's chill begins to recede, replaced by a comforting warmth that wraps around you like a gentle embrace.

Santi holds you, his hands firm against your body, he pulls you up and you gasp for air, filling your lungs with sweet oxygen.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you open your eyes, smiling when you see him. “I’m still cold by the way.” you lie.

Santi grins, pulling you tighter. Your chest is flushed against his, your breasts pour out of your laced bra, his lips only an inch away. His nails catch against the small of your back, a tingle rushes up your spine, and you move closer. Your eyes drop to his glistening lips.

Santi, assuming that you’re still cold, tightens his grip and inches closer. He finally gives you what you want. Your lips move against his. It starts out slow, gradually becoming more needy. You press your thighs together when he licks the seam of your lips. You part for him and feel his tongue inside of your mouth. Santi takes what you have to offer with greed, he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands dropping to your hips, he grinds himself into your aching heat.

You part away with a moan. As your hands cradle his neck, he nips the skin above your chin. Santi continues to force your hips up against his own, you can feel the drag of his cock between your clothed folds.

“F–Fuck,” you wrap your legs around him, water sloshes around the two of you, the salt burns your tongue.

“Look at you with the sailor's mouth,” he teases, thick fingers pull at the waistband of your panties. “Did you ever think about me, mi amor?”

“I have,” you confess, albeit slightly guiltily. “I have,” you repeat without indulging further.

His body reacts in a way that surprises you. He hunches over, fingers finding your clit, he starts to draw short, quick circles. The pleasure is electrifying, it takes you everything not to accidentally drown you both. Santi’s lips follow a path that ends at the curve of your right breast, he sucks, teeth digging into the ample flesh. You let out a sharp moan when he thrusts two of his fingers, heat licks the bottom of your spine. The water, despite your initial thought, doesn’t prove to be a good lubricant, but lucky for you both your body provides enough for him to glide with ease, the slight pain you feel with every drag only makes you want him more.

Santi pulls out his fingers and forces them between your lips. You moan at the taste of salt and bitterness. He mouths against your earlobe, his voice a pleasant timbre in your ear.

“So wet for me. Only for me.” he rasps, pushing your body up, his one hand resting on your stomach. He turns you over so you can brace your palms against the wooden pillars of the pier. “You have no idea how many times I thought about that missed moment on the beach. The thing I would’ve done to you if we had only kissed.”

The husk of his voice makes you shiver. You want to retaliate, reply with something snarky and smart to impress him, but the words die on your tongue as he buries himself into you with one smooth motion. Your mouth fills with water when you gasp. It’s the most intense feeling, your toes curl, nails clawing at the pillar. Your vision is spotted with black dots, jaw slacked. He pulls back his hips only to fuck his cock even deeper into you. His hips slotted into your own, he allows you to drift back, your breasts leisurely moving above the water. Santi uses you as he pleases, you feel lifeless with pleasure, every muscle growing taut and loose, only to repeat itself. He groans and grunts, the noises of rushed waves filling the night.

His cock is deep, stretching you wide, his thumb circles your clit. Your legs lock up, heat rushing down your stomach and pooling between your legs.

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, reaching for him. Santi takes you by the hand and pulls you against him, your body now flush against the pillar “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come–” you repeat like a chant, your whimper following your sinful promise.

“Don’t. Wait for me,”

You cry openly, tears flowing down your cheeks, your cunt throbs. He whispers things you assume to be consolations, you only hear the words that make your heart squeeze.

“Good girl. My good, sweet, girl. You’re doing so well for me. Just a bit more. I’m so close…”

He speaks in a hushed tone, it soothes you like a frightened animal. He kisses his skin, salt burning his lips. He hammers into you deeper and deeper. You feel only pleasure. You beg him for more. You beg him for less. Your mind is a tornado of mixed emotions and lust.

Santi spills into you and at the same time bites into your neck, your own orgasm crashes down on you, leaving you limp. White flashes before your eyes, pleasure raking up and down your body as you try to breathe. Santi continues to grind his cock into you, his hand moving over your stomach.

He pulls out of your carefully, you make a sound between a sigh and a whine. Santi turns you around and continues to hold you, the waves calm once again.

Santi kisses your neck, then your jaw, and lastly your lips.

“Never losing you again,” he promises, touching your lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Good,” you answer, kissing him long and hard. “I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x fem!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #triple frontier fic #oscar isaac character fic

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jakecockley · 2 years

Text

- drunken confession -

✧ pairing: santiago “pope” garcia x f!reader

✧ summary: your best friend santi needs a ride home after a night out with the guys. pope, being the drunk man he is, confesses his pent-up feelings for you.

✧ genre: fluff/soft comfort

✧ warnings: nothing bad, just mentions of alcohol and a bit of cursing

✧ word count: 1.2k

✧ author’s note: listen i’m like, in love with santi rn and um i was like why not do a lil fic of him? this is probably the first fic i’ve ever posted lol and well hope u guys like it! :) ♡ this is more in santi's pov and how he views you rather than vice versa. !! keep in mind, english is not my first language and if u see any mistakes pls ignore them :') (this doesn’t help my oscar obsession)

@marc-spectorr helped me come up with this !! pls read her fics ! they're amazing and she's one of my favorite fanfic authors. i love u callie, this one's for u amiga, hope u like it ! ♥︎

You had just picked up your best friend, who was, not to your surprise, drunk.

It made your eyebrows raise in amusement as you quietly snickered to yourself, seeing just how out of it Santiago was as he stumbled over to your car. He was usually so composed and right now, he was loosened up.

Frankie had texted you earlier, asking if you could give Santi a ride home. The other boys were still drinking and partying their hearts out, they weren't going anywhere just yet. He had hoped you could take Pope with you, knowing you were just getting out of work anyways. He didn't want another wasted man to take care of, plus, he knew Santi would get rest if he went home early.

Not to mention how much Pope spoke of you; Frankie knew the man felt something for you, and vice versa. The two of you were just stubborn or shy, if he could call it that, to admit it to each other.

"Heeyy princesa," Santi slurred as soon as he was inside the car with you. "I missed you, I was looking, everywhere for you," he added, his hand snaking up to grab yours, interlocking your fingers with his own, while his other open palm gestured to the air around him.

You felt your heart flutter all of a sudden in your chest. He usually wasn't this touchy with you.

What does that mean? No, no, relax, he's just drunk.

Sure, there were the occasional hugs and his arm placed around your shoulders, but, never.. hand-holding. God, you felt your heart beat quicker by the minute.

"You look really beautiful tonight, amor," Santi complimented, "but you always do, right, Morales? Veery beautiful."

Your cheeks warmed up at his words.

"Take care of this idiot for me, will you?" Frankie chuckled, clapping Santi on the shoulder.

"Oh, I will, don't you worry." You grinned, your gaze shifting over to Santi who was staring at you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

"Alright, drive safe, amiga."

▬

Santi watched as you hummed to the music playing on the radio, eyes on the road, hand on the steering wheel and everything.

He noticed you were wearing scrubs, which barely clicked in his head that you had just come out of work.

"How.. was work, hermosa? Busy?" He asked you, that lopsided smile of his still on his handsome face. His short salt-and-pepper curls were hit by the bright red hue of the traffic light, illuminating his face too, the curve of his nose, his cheekbones.

Santi softly brushed his thumb across the warm skin of your hand, still holding it, in a way that screamed "i'm not letting go anytime soon".

You turned to look at him. "Oh, it was horribly busy. I had a lot of patients this shift and god, the doctor was chewing my ear off..."

As you explained to him how your day went, your words faded away as his dark brown eyes studied the features of your face for a long moment. The shape of your nose, your lips, your eyes, your scars, your eyebrows.

The same face he fell in love with ever since he had met you in that hospital in Paraguay, where you tended to the children that needed immediate medical attention with such carefulness and precision. He remembered how he felt when his heart stopped at the sight of you. You looked so beautiful and so caring; the way you softly smiled at the kid you were helping.

His gaze flitted down to your interlocked hands.

He loved you, and so he thought, with a burst of confidence, maybe he should tell you that tonight.

▬

"Come on honey, dance with me for a bit." Santi chuckled at you as he pulled you in for a spin, much to your cute protest.

"What you should be doing instead of dancing, Garcia, is getting your drunk ass to bed." You laughed, swatting at his chest playfully to make him let go of you. As much as you wanted to dance with him, he was drunk and you wanted him to get some rest.

"Only if you're there with me." He winked and you rolled your eyes at him in response. His hands drifted down to place themselves on your waist.

Santi felt your body go still from the feeling of his hands on you. He smirked down at you, and soon, that smirk turned into a soft smile.

Quickly enough, your own hands found themselves around his neck. You returned the smile he gave you without hesitation.

He leaned forward, gently placing his forehead against yours.

He heard your breath quietly hitch in your throat.

Even with all of the alcohol in his system, Santi suddenly and strangely felt steady.

He loved you, and he wanted to tell you that. Maybe he should. Would right now be a good time?

He knew you felt the same. He noticed how you would get visibly flustered whenever he'd compliment you, how you'd smile to yourself as you looked away from him, how you'd gaze at him when you thought he wasn't looking. He knew you did.

But if he was wrong, he'd know by your reaction.

A good minute passed by.

"San-"

"I like you," he cut you off, "a lot. Like, a lot, a lot." Santi laughed quietly under his breath.

"This isn't the alcohol talking, baby. I know, I'm not so great with this... kind of thing; confessing feelings and all, but I don't think I can hide it anymore."

"I've loved you ever since I saw you in that hospital years ago. I-I can barely understand what I feel for you." He whispered, one hand now on the side of your face, the other on your hip. Santi noticed the way your eyes slightly widened in surprise and in another emotion he couldn't quite place.

"I love the sound of your voice, I love the way your nose scrunches up when you smile, I love it when you dance in the kitchen, thinking nobody else is watching you. I love everything about you, you know?"

"I.. I've never felt anything like this before, preciosa. You're fucking beautiful and sometimes I-I wonder to myself how lucky I am to be your best friend. I just hope we can become something more." He finished, losing himself in those eyes he loved so much.. but judging by your stunned silence, he was quick to add: "B-but if you don-"

"Do you really feel that way, Santiago?" It was your turn to cut him off with a whisper, a pretty smile growing on your lips. You rarely called him by his actual name.

His heart swelled at the sound of you saying it.

"Meant every word, amor." He sighed in relief, feeling your hands hold his face, your thumbs caressing his cheeks slowly. He swore you could hear his heart beating.

Next thing he knew, you were softly pressing your lips against his, drawing him in as close as you could.

If his heart was running fast earlier, it was certainly running a fucking marathon right now. Probably add in a somersault, too.

Santi's arms wrapped and tightened around you, as if never wanting to let go, afraid that this moment would vanish if he did so.

He knew he'd never get tired of kissing you.

Eventually, you pulled away from him with a smile, much to his dismay.

Gazing into his onyx eyes, you chuckled to yourself, whispering:

"I love you too, Santiago Garcia. You have no idea."

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia fanfic #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #first fic #weeeeee #pls dont flop istg

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magpie-to-the-morning · 2 years

Text

Insatiable - Breeding Kink

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: Sheer filth, oral sex (female receiving), PiV sex (unprotected because breeding kink), dirty talk, lactation kink, discussions of pregnancy

Author’s Note: This started as a Kinktober prompt and just... took over my brain. So thank you, @leslie-lyman for requesting breeding kink with the Insatiable boys. You made this happen and I’m so happy you did.

Thank you as always to my amazing, patient, eagle-eyed beta @acrossthesestars You give me the courage to just go ahead and use the word cum and I think that’s beautiful.

Missed Part One? You can read it here. Which, if you’re not familiar with the worldbuilding and relationships in Insatiable, I highly recommend. This is a wolf shifter AU and context is key!

“Incoming!”

Frankie’s brief warning came just in time. You rolled out of the way at the last second, narrowly avoiding the football that had been barreling towards you.

You’d been reading on the beach, sprawled lazily over an old blanket with a book and a bottle of hard cider when Santi and Frankie decided, purely by coincidence, to start up a game of shirtless football only a few yards down the sand. The two of them, your mates, all sun-kissed and wild, were impossible to ignore, though you did your best to at least feign an interest in your book behind the smoked glass of your shades.

At least, until sand sprayed over you from the wayward missile.

“Sorry, leoncita. Did we distract you?”

“You mean with your broad shoulders and glistening chests?” You raised an eyebrow at Santi’s mock-innocence as he jogged toward you. “Nope, I hardly noticed.”

“Sure,” he grinned, all white teeth and gorgeous tan, making your fingers itch to dig into his dark brown hair and tug his laughing mouth to yours.

Frankie loped up behind him and rested his arm on the other man’s shoulder, his aviators flashing in the sunlight as he smiled down at you. “Must be a good page,” he said, nodding towards your book.

Puzzled, you ask “Why do you say that?”

A smug look spread over Frankie’s face as he replied “Because you’ve been looking at that same one for the last ten minutes.”

Sand sprayed out behind you as you scrambled to your feet to tackle him but he caught you easily, laughing good naturedly and heaving you over his shoulder as he headed toward the water.

“It’s so hot, don’t you want to go for a swim?”

“You wouldn’t dare, Francisco.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have called his bluff,” Santi tutted, mock-sympathetically, his arms crossed as he resigned you to your fate.

You shrieked with laughter when Frankie stepped into the waves, your fingers scrabbling for purchase at his sun-freckled shoulders. “Okay, okay! I was watching your manly display of athleticism, now will you put me down?”

Frankie considered this for a moment, shrugged, and grinned. “Sure.”

You realized your mistake a moment before you hit the water.

Later, after you’d pulled him in after you and the two of you had joined forces to drag Santi in, the three of you huddled, dripping, in the bedroom of your rented cottage. Their hands slid over you, solid warmth against your sea chilled skin, and you relaxed eagerly into the hold they had on you. Frankie pressed himself against you, a comforting wall of heat at your back while Santi undressed you with a slow, patient grin that made you want to scream.

“Come on,” you whined, impatient to step out of your wet things and into their arms properly.

“So needy today,” Santi chided. You chose to ignore that and the amused huff that skimmed past your ear from behind.

“And whose fault is that? The two of you knew exactly what you were doing, showing off for me back on that beach.”

“Oh is that what we were doing?” Dark curls brushed your cheek and you shivered as Santi leant in, his sly mouth now hot against your neck. Not to be outdone, Frankie nipped possessively at your ear and slid his arm around your waist, his clever fingers unbuttoning your shorts with a practiced flick.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed, your head tipping back against Frankie’s shoulder to grant the other man better access to your throat, the submissive gesture earning you a pleased growl of satisfaction. “Is it a wolf thing, all that competitive maleness? You fighting over who gets to breed me first?”

Both men freeze and, realizing what you’ve said, so do you.

Fuck, ohhh fuck, you think. Was that… speciesist? Or just rude? Or, oh god, do they think I’ve gone off the hormonal deep end with no warning?

It’s not like the idea had never crossed your mind. You were their mate after all, though the entirety of what that meant was still not entirely clear.

Before you can start babbling excuses or apologizing profusely, Santi’s head jerks up. The ferocity of his gaze would be enough to make you stumble backward, if your other mate didn’t have his arms banded around you.

“Would you want that?” For all his ferocity, there is a husky note of restraint in Santi’s voice, a thin leash of calm stretching between his question and the wild beast pounding of his heart beneath your fingertips.

“Would I want… what?” You ask it carefully, needing to be sure. Mistaking your coyness for caution, Frankie’s grip slackens. He can’t see the look on your face, the excitement making your lips part and your eyes glaze.

But Santi can, and he moves in for the kill.

“You do, don’t you leoncita?” Pride swells in him as he grabs your jaw, forces your shy gaze to his. “You want me and Frank to fill you up?”

“Yes.” Your response is so shaky that you wonder if anyone without their predators’ senses would even hear it, and you clear your throat to try again. “I want it.”

The smirk on Santi’s face is pure alpha male smugness when he asks “You want what, baby? Use your words.”

Your thighs feel suddenly slick and you’re not sure if the thin whine you can hear came from your chest or Frankie’s. It hardly matters - you’re both utterly caught, excitement kicking through your veins at the suggestion of this new desire.

“I want you to breed me.”

The last tether snaps.

The next few moments are a blur of strong hands and ripped cloth and then you are finally free, skin to hot skin and mouth to hungry mouth. Frankie seizes you around the waist, pulls you into a tender, vicious kiss, all tongues and teeth and fierce, animal need.

“You have no idea baby,” he pants against your lips, his nose pressed to your temple as he groans, his face already crumpling. “No fucking idea what that does to us.”

“I think I have some idea.” You wrap your fingers around his thick length, smiling when your thumb passes over the near-purple tip and comes away sticky. Squeezing just hard enough to make his breath come faster and his hips to buck, you move to kneel at his feet but he stops you with a finger beneath your chin.

“Not tonight, deseito.” Gathering a trace of that pearly slick on his fingers, Frankie slips them through your folds, rubbing slow, sticky circles around your aching clit. “Tonight you’re only taking us here.” He pushes two thick fingers inside you, making you gasp, his fierce, hungry gaze burning as he watches.

It’s not long before they have you flat on your back in the king-sized bed that had been your only request when looking at Airbnbs (well, that and beach access). Frankie’s head is between your legs, his tongue hot and urgent against your slick heat.

“Come for me again,” he urges when he finally comes up for air, soothing the stubble burn on your thighs with reverent kisses. “I know you’ve got another one for me, sweetheart, and then we’ll fuck you, I promise.”

They’d insisted on reducing you to this whimpering, sweaty mess before moving ahead with the proceedings. You’d caught something about how “it’ll help it take” and while you were pretty sure that would only apply after one of them came inside you, you were too blissed out to argue or hurry them along.

Besides, it had given you and Santi, at least, a chance to talk between the shattering climaxes Frankie was pulling from you with his tongue and fingers.

“You sure you want this?“

“I’m sure. I mean we should talk about it more when -hnngh- I can see straight let alone think, but - oh, fuck, oh fuck Frankie right there, fuck don’t stop, don’t stop!“

They knew you were still on birth control for the moment but for now, the idea was enough.

It was everything.

When you finally came back down and Frankie emerged, his jaw glistening and his expression downright triumphant, Santi kissed him hard as he took his place between your legs.

You watched them for a moment, your heart caught in your throat even as you felt it pulse deeper, hot and eager. Primal. You’d never expected this messy tangle of love, but oh, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

They were yours.

You were theirs.

Utterly. Completely. And forever.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, the two men turned to you. Even blown wide with lust, their eyes were soft. Reverent.

They kissed you together, deep and searching until you couldn’t tell where one of you ended and the other began, just that they held you close, petting and soothing and stroking until that coil inside you tightened once more.

“I need you,” you whined. “Both of you,”

“Shh, we've got you, baby. Gonna take such good care of you.” Frankie’s soft words rumbled against your side as he wound close enough for you to reach out and give his swollen, aching cock some relief when you felt it press hard and insistent against your hip. His large fingers closed over yours, guiding you to give him the slow, steady strokes he needed to keep him on the edge without spilling over.

“My mates,” Santi hummed. Despite the affection obvious in his voice, you caught the wild edge of anticipation simmering in the depths of his dark eyes and splayed your legs wider in silent invitation.

He needed no further urging.

Santi buried himself inside you to the hilt. His face creased with pleasure when he bottomed out inside you and he didn’t waste a moment before grinding his hips against you.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room as he picked up speed. “You’re always wet for us but fuck, baby. If I’d known you wanted us to breed you this bad I would have done it sooner.”

He hit the word hard, the corner of his mouth lifting in satisfaction when you whimpered and clutched at him.

“Oh, you liked that didn’t you? You wanna hear what we’re gonna do to you?”

You nodded frantically and then, knowing it was coming, answered his unspoken command to give voice to how badly you wanted it.

“Please, Santi,” you gasped. “I want to hear it. Tell me how you’re both gonna breed me.”

You felt rather than heard Frankie’s growl against your breast, your only warning before he bit down sharply, then kissed away the sting.

“Someone’s thinking ahead,” Santi chuckled, his expression fond before it shifted back to yours and open hunger took its place. “Gonna keep you in our bed all night, baby. All fucking weekend. We’ll take turns fucking our seed into you until it’s leaking out of this pretty pussy, then push it back in so it takes.”

Your hips were already jerking beneath his in an instinctual need to keep him close, to match him stroke for stroke, urging him on and on and on.

“Feels so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted breathlessly.

Frankie’s hand closed over your other breast, massaging roughly as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rhymically against the swollen bud to match the frantic pace his partner was building between your legs.

“That’s it, fuck you’re taking me so well,” Santi praised. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead but he only quickened his pace until his thick cock was slamming against that devastating spot that made you wail. “You gonna let us have a taste, huh? Or will that milk be just for all the pups you’re going to give us?”

Your grip faltered around Frankie’s cock then but he didn’t seem to even notice, his doe eyes wide and pleading as if he’d drink from you then and there. The idea nearly shattered you - his stubbled mouth pulling streams of life-giving nourishment from your own breast, his tongue chasing after rogue droplets of pearly white sweetness, the taste of your milk on his tongue.

Feeling the tight grip of your cunt, Santi lifted your hips and fucked even deeper, faster, harder, every stroke battering against your inner walls until you knew they’d give way, birth control or no.

“That’s our good - fucking - girl,” he ground out. “Come for me so I can fill you.”

Your back arched off the mattress as the tension within you finally snapped. Waves of pleasure rippled through you but Frankie’s hold kept you grounded enough to hear Santi’s muttered “Fuck, that’s it, that’s it, fucking take it all, baby. Every - last - drop.” You felt it then, the low, hot spurt when he came deep inside you.

He’d barely finished before he grabbed Frankie by the shoulder to tap the other man in, and his cock was inside you before you could do more than whine at Santi’s sudden absence.

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie swore, wonderstruck, as he pushed into you. You parted easily for him this time, his passage eased by your slick and his mate’s cum. He followed Santi’s example, tilting your hips up and fucking you so deep it tore something guttural and desperate from your throat. “Our sweet girl, our perfect mate, letting us breed you like this. Still with us, baby?”

You couldn’t manage more than a throaty noise of pleasure and assent, but he understood, bending to drop a gentle kiss to your lips even as his thrusts came faster.

Santi curled up beside you, one leg thrown over yours to keep your legs spread wide while your mate rutted into you like a beast in heat, his own lips moving against your neck.

“Can’t wait to see you round with our little one, deseito,” he murmured, one possessive hand resting on your belly while the other strokes down Frankie’s back. “His, mine, it doesn’t matter, they’d be ours.”

It’s that thought that overwhelmed you. The idea of a tiny, dark haired, brown-eyed addition to your hearts and lives seizes your heart in a way you’d never dreamed possible. The bonds of love passing between the three of you pull taut, sending you tumbling over the edge, Frankie close behind.

Afterwards, they cradle your body between theirs, stroking the sweat from your brow and pressing soft, loving kisses to your face and body. When Frankie lays a palm over your stomach you chuckle and remind him that “there’s nothing there yet, honey.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice even as he laughed with you. “But you really think you might want that? With us?”

The question would have knocked you back not too long ago. It’s a huge step, a leap into the unknown. But knowing they’d be leaping into the dark at your side makes it seem not just possible but… exciting. Fulfilling. The next logical step on this winding road you’ve begun to tread together.

“Hmm.” You tapped your chin, pretending to still be deep in thought. “Depends. Would you promise to go out in the middle of the night and get me whatever gross foods I was craving?”

Correctly interpreting your teasing as a positive sign, Frankie and Santi joined in. They assured you that they would rub your feet and fetch things from high shelves - all the cliches you can come up with. Somewhere around sleepily asking if baby shifters are born with fur and demanding to see what you referred to as “puppy pictures,” you drift off with their arms around you.

#Emma's Kinktober 2022 #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x F!Reader #Insatiable #Fic #My fic

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pimosworld · 1 month

Text

Unrequited

Pairing-Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, Frankie has a lot of apologies to hand out, lots of food references, fun game of poker and a revelation, more apologies and a proposition.

WC-5.9k

A/N- Happy Frankie Friday, our boy is still going through it a bit but that’s to be expected when you ghost your friends for three years. At least he has Benny for some comedic relief.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter II Pining

verb

gerund or present participle: pining

suffer a mental and physical decline, especially because of a broken heart.

You stretch your sore muscles as best you can with the human weight that is Santiago pressed against you, his arm holding you close even in sleep. You knew he was getting better and that he was starting to get over it but Frankie’s sudden appearance is causing a relapse in his behavior.

The mornings you got out of bed before him or took too long to tell him you were running late from work would be met with his frantic state of mind. Always afraid of being abandoned again, left without a word or goodbye. You assured him as much as you could that you would never do something like that. Months of convincing him to go to counseling was met with short words and utterings of I don’t have a problem. It wasn’t until he’d awoken to you crying and scared one night that he was yelling in his sleep that you were going to leave him that he finally caved and went.

Therapy helped tremendously but you can’t blame him after the harsh words that were spoken last night that he thinks you couldn’t hear. Venomous words spoken between ex lovers, hurt people hurt people.

So you lay here a little longer, waiting for him to stir awake so he doesn’t think you left him. You rub your legs together easing the sore ache from the previous night, trying to ignore your full bladder.

You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, slowly making their way down leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Good morning baby, how’d you sleep?” He doesn’t answer with words, just hums as he grinds his hips into you. Avoiding the question that you already know the answer to. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping lower before you gently grab his wrist pulling it to your lips as you turn to face him. “As much as I would love to do that again, I really need to pee.”

“Why didn’t you get up?” His sleepy voice cracks a little as he dips his head to kiss your neck. Your nails scratch at his scalp as you card through his salt and pepper curls. You tug on them eliciting a groan from him as he meets your eyes. You trace your thumb along the stubble of his jaw, memorizing every line and scar that you may have missed the last time you looked at him. He’s so distractingly handsome that you almost forgot he asked you a question. One that he already knows the answer to.

“I wanted to wait until you were awake.” You give him a wary smile almost ashamed to admit it, not wanting him to feel bad.

His face drops and he wraps his arms around you, rolling you on top of him until you’re almost falling out of the bed, forced to plant your feet on the cold hardwood floor. He whistles low as you pad to the bathroom, trying not to feel flustered knowing he’s checking you out. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he always makes you feel giddy.

When you exit the bathroom he’s propped up on one elbow holding the blanket up so you can join him in the warm confines of your bed. He shudders as your cold hands roam up his toned chest and wrap around his neck.

“You can’t be getting a uti because you’re afraid to wake me up cariño.” He half mumbles into your hair.

You sigh deeply. “I know…I just didn’t want you to wake up and not find me there.”

He kisses your forehead lingering briefly before speaking. “I know you’re worried about me with Frankie being here but I promise I’m okay.” He even thinks he sounds unsure of himself as he says it.

“I know you’re not okay and that’s fine, you just have to remember you’re not doing this alone.”

You’re an enigma, he thinks. How you manage to find the good in all situations. You’re the glass half full to his half empty. He was surviving before he met you and that was fine but he can’t go back to just surviving now that he knows what it’s like to be thriving.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He slides his hands up your back massaging and kneading the stress out of you.

“Mmmm…you’ve had your fair share of things you did to deserve being taken care of.” His stomach grumbles and you both chuckle. “Speaking of that…do you want me to make breakfast?”

“If I ever say no to your food I want you to shoot me.”

****

Frankie didn’t want to get out of bed, the exhaustion had fully settled in and he quickly realized how long it’s been since he actually rested. Constantly trying to stay busy to keep from actually feeling something. The conversation with Santiago had gone in the complete opposite direction he had hoped but he only had himself to blame. He didn’t expect to just waltz back into his life like nothing had happened but you being here was an unexpected surprise and most certainly changed his approach.

He’d never slept in the guest room so it went unnoticed at how beautiful the morning sun looked peaking through the curtains. The orange Santiago had insisted on painting one accent wall compliments it perfectly. It wasn’t until they bought this house that Frankie realized how much Santi cared about interior design. He wanted to tease him about it but opted not to when he saw how relaxed he was deciding on paint colors and furniture.

It’s an odd feeling washing over him as the smell of butter and cinnamon infiltrates his senses. It’s been too long since he’s awoken to the smell of anything other than stale cigarettes and last night's leftovers. He’s kicking the blankets off before he can register and rummaging through his bag for a pair of sweats. He can hear some soft singing coming from the kitchen as he makes his way down the hall. The smell is getting stronger as his stomach rumbles and Santiago comes into view, leaning back in the chair at the kitchen island as he not so subtly watches you retrieve the mystery item from the oven.

The man was always a perv when it came to checking him out and it seems nothing has changed. He can’t really blame him as he takes in your appearance. Another one of Santiago’s shirts adorning your frame and some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen just barely covering your ass.

“Nice of you to join us.” Santi’s arms are crossed with a slight smirk at catching Frankie ogling you.

“Morning Francisco!” You’re beaming as you wipe your hands on a spare towel and begin to plate what he now sees to be biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry, I made cheddar honey biscuits, bacon and I’m about to start the eggs.” As if you couldn’t get any more perfect.

Santi gestures to the seat next to him and Frankie pulls out the chair, starting to feel a little less like a guest in his own home.

“How do you take your eggs?”

“Over medium” “Over medium”

If the tandem answer bothers you, you don’t show it as you expertly crack an egg into a bowl on the side of the stove and one into the pan. Santi adjusts next to him, seemingly a little flustered attempting to ignore his slip up.

“You don’t have to make-“

“Don’t be a martyr over eggs.” Santi cuts him off before he can finish and you turn, giving him a stern look before whisking the mixture in the bowl.

“At least he doesn’t eat them scrambled like a child.” You mutter under your breath and Frankie tries to hide his smile behind his hands as Santi flips him off.

“I heard that chiquita.” He teases and you shrug as you plate up the rest of Frankie’s food. Retrieving the bacon from the warm oven and setting two hefty biscuits next to it.

Frankie stares at the plate, much like he did last night and he doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s a lie actually, he knows as he dives into the biscuit without another word. The buttery flaky crust with a hint of something sweet hits his senses and he can’t help the moan that escapes him.

He can see your shoulders moving as you laugh and he doesn’t even care with how good this is. Your food is a religious experience that only a chosen few should get to enjoy. As he glances over at Santi eating in silence a tinge of jealousy sparks in him that he gets to indulge in this all the time. You,this food,this life. For now Frankie has to live with the choices he made.

“Don’t be shy Frankie there’s plenty more.” You politely cover your mouth while you eat your breakfast and somehow finish cleaning the mess in a matter of minutes.

Frankie leans back in his chair rubbing his belly unashamed. Santi glances over noticing the way he looks so content and a slight gleam in his eye. “So does this guy do anything around here?”

Santi stands from his chair gathering both of their plates. “I provide other services.” He kisses you on the cheek as you playfully swat at him. “I also wash the dishes.”

“You own a dishwasher.”

“Frankie I don’t make the rules, I just do what the lady asks.” Of course Santiago doesn’t notice that this is the first time he’s used his name, not his government name or his call sign or the dreaded name he gets when people are mad at him but his chosen name. Frankie watches you both as you exchange subtle glances, some unspoken language between the two of you that he used to understand but it’s been too long.

Without words Santi is grabbing things from the fridge and setting them out on the counter for you as you retrieve some bowls from the cabinet. You’re filling a large pot with water as Santi returns to his seat at the island having fulfilled his duties of making piles of unfinished ingredients on the table.

“How much time do I have?”

“We don’t have to be at Wills until one so don’t rush cariño.” Santi says as Frankie gives him a quizzical look. “Barbecue…you’re going.”

Frankie tries to school the expression on his face into a neutral one as his stomach drops. He knew he needed to talk to all of them eventually, but he didn’t anticipate it being his second day back. He knows he can’t avoid the conversation forever and the sooner he rips the band aid the better. There’s too much weighing on his shoulders that he needs to get off so they can all live better lives. At least Frankie hopes after he talks to them that they are appreciative and see all he’s done to get back in their good graces.

“If I don’t make this pasta salad Benny will kill me.” He realizes after a moment that you’re speaking to him and he can’t wipe this dumb look off his face.

“Well if it’s anything like I’ve had already I can see why he’s obsessed.” You smile up at him as you chop some bell peppers with perfect precision. He’s not sure how you’ve not cut yourself as he looks from your eyes to the cutting board, but it’s almost reminiscent of how he feels when he’s flying; effortless.

Frankie finally breaks your gaze as you turn around to pour the pasta in the boiling water. Santi’s eyes bore into him as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Santiago was never good at subtlety, especially when it came to his outward appearance. If he had to title this one it would read if you keep flirting with her I’ll smother you with a pillow.

****

The three of you are in Santi’s Jeep on the way to Will's house. You insisted after going back and forth with Frankie to the point of awkwardness that he sit in front. You hilariously and completely ended the argument when you sat in the back and shrugged your shoulders knowing Santi would riot if he was made out to be some chauffeur with you both in the back.

The car smells divine…you managed to make two types of salad, some cupcakes and those cookies he can’t stop thinking about. Frankie’s recently caught wondering how Santi is still in such good shape with the way you cook. He watches the way his muscles strain against the black tee shirt as he shifts gears. The way his jeans fit his thighs just right as he-

“Something on your mind Fish?” He’s been caught this time and it certainly won’t be the last time.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. “Nothing…Just wondering how you still have a waistline when you live with Julia Child.”

You laugh and bite down on your lip to stop it from bubbling over in full blown hysterics. Frankie looks away but you don’t miss the way he smiles as his tongue pokes out from between his teeth.

Frankie stares out the window, something blooming in his stomach at the way he made you laugh again. It’s infectious and at this point he doesn’t even care…he knows full well that if he looks to his left he’ll see the second chapter of Santi’s death glare titled keep it up and I’ll crash this car.

****

It’s not a far drive to Will's house, but there was no way they were walking in the Florida heat with all this food in tow. Frankie swallows hard as Santi makes the last turn down their street. He has seen this house many times, it still sits beautifully at the end of the block nestled among two live oak trees in the front yard. The most unique house on the block and the largest backyard. He helped Benny and Will look for it so they could all be close to each other. The plan fell into place just before they left for Colombia. They closed on the house one month before leaving and for that Frankie is relieved to see all was not lost in that jungle.

He rubs his clammy hands along his jeans as Santi parks the car in the long driveway. He waits for a moment as you both exit the car to gather the supplies. He wants to get in the driver's seat and head home or maybe just get out and walk straight to the airport. Anything to avoid the possible rejection he faces when he walks into Wills backyard to see his best friends brothers again.

The passenger side door is opened for him and you’re standing there expectantly with your hand out. “He said you might need some help.”

It feels childish and yet he needs it all the same as he takes your hand in his and steps out of the Jeep. It’s so small in his as you lace your fingers and pull him to the front door instead of the side gate to spare him a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He lets you lead as he tries not to step on your feet that need a few more strides than him as you approach the large wooden door.

The house is pristine and cozy on the inside as you enter. Santiago’s in the open concept kitchen putting away all the goods you made as Frankie looks around for anyone else. You squeeze his hand once before letting go to join him in the kitchen.

“Ben already took the pasta salad so that’s as good as gone.” Santiago says as he cracks open a beer and hands it to Frankie. Anything to take the edge off.

“I’m gonna go find Emma babe.” You kiss Santi on the cheek as you exit the kitchen leaving the two men alone.

Frankie’s eyes go wide as you shriek from the patio and Santi laughs. “Put me down Ben!”

Bennys voice is carried away with the sound of the music over the outside speakers. “Not a chance sweetheart.”

Santi nods to Frankie as he takes a huge swig of his beer. “Let’s head outside before she kills him.”

****

“Nice to finally meet you Frankie.” Will’s wife Emma is just as he pictured. Tall brunette with perfect hair and an even more perfect smile. She’s been kind enough to show him around the house and the yard as a means of distraction from the not so warm welcome he got from Will.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He sounds like a kid that just got scolded for stealing as he removes his hat and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Emma’s showing him the room Benny is in. He spent what little money he had to open his own gym so they’re graciously letting him stay to save some money. Frankie feels particularly guilty about that right now but soon that will change.

“The office will hopefully be a nursery soon.” She turns to him offering a genuine smile. “Then we’ll have a live-in babysitter.”

“I’m hoping you don’t mean Benny.” Frankie chides as she throws her head back and laughs.

“He’s not all that bad and he could do with some practice.” Emma motions with her hands as she finishes the tour and Frankie feels like he’s having some sort of out of body experience. Walking through the home that he helped pick out so that Will could start a family. Everyone was doing exactly what they set out to do and Frankie was just…idling.

“Frankie?” She’s staring at him now, nearly eye to eye with him as she places her hand gently on his elbow so as not to startle him. He supposed she’s used to dealing with spooked vets by now. It’s almost like approaching a caged animal. “He’ll come around…I know he loves you, he just needs some time.”

Frankie’s too embarrassed to ask if she means Santi or Will so he just nods and says ‘thank you’.

****

Frankie’s on his second helping of pasta salad as he sits at a table with the guys and some of Benny's friends from the gym listening to Santi drone on about his security consulting business. Of course Santiago found a way to travel around telling other people how to do their job.

Frankie looks up from his plate to see Will staring daggers at him. He’s a coward to look away but he’s not ready to face that scrutiny. It’s not much better as his line of vision drifts to you and Emma laying out by the pool talking and laughing. The sun is beating down on his neck as a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. You roll to your front on the lounger and untie the strings of your top. The white bikini already left little to the imagination and now he can just barely see the soft curve of your breast as you adjust to get comfortable.

“They’re perfect aren’t they. ” Frankie nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ben’s voice in his ear.

“What?!”

“Emma and Will…I saw her giving you a tour earlier.” Ben winks at him as he steals a bite from Frankie’s plate. Frankie starts to speak but Ben cuts him off and leans in closer. “I know everyone has already given you enough shit so I’m not going to. I just hope you’re here to stay.”

“I am.” Frankie says it a little louder than he intended and he can feel Will and Santi’s eyes on him. The mindless chatter amongst the table has continued but the four of them are waiting on a limb as Frankie realizes this is the first time he’s actually said it. “I’m making plans to stay.”

Santi raises his eyebrows in surprise as Will finally speaks. “You gonna find a flying gig?”

Frankie doesn’t really need to work but he supposes he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find something to occupy his mind. “I don’t know yet but I’ve got some money saved until I figure it out.” He takes a sip of his beer to disguise the little white lie.

Ben slaps him on the back and he splutters his beer. “You can come help me at the gym.” Ben’s shadow boxing him as he tries to clear his throat. “Let’s see if this old man can still spar with the great Benjamin Miller.” His friends at the table roll their eyes along with the rest at his large ego.

Frankie points the butt of his empty bottle at the younger man. “Ben, I can still kick your ass.”

“Is that so?”

Frankie nods slowly.

“I don’t think he can climb a flight of fucking stairs.” Will's voice cuts in and the table goes silent. There’s a slight smirk on his face as Benny erupts in laughter next to him. Santi drops his head to the table as the rest of the men join in and for a fleeting moment it all feels like it used to.

****

The parties died down a bit and it’s just the guys left while you and Emma say your goodbyes. The boys are staying for poker and that will give Frankie the perfect opportunity to talk to them. He’s not sure how much longer he could hold it in.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” You approach Santi and the guys around the kitchen island.

“They’ll both survive.” Will answers for him as he finishes the dishes in the sink.

“Cariño please don’t wait up for me this time.” Santi says through gritted teeth as he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek. Ben steps up behind him making mock kissing gestures and Will grabs him by the collar dragging him off to the garage.

Frankie awkwardly starts to walk away and leave you two alone when you call out to him.

“Francisco Morales…make sure he doesn’t gamble all his money away.” It’s said in jest as you gather your things to leave.

“I’ll do my best, hermosa but I make no promises.”

Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the slip up as you wave them goodbye and exit the front door. Heat creeps up his neck and he doesn’t even want to look Santi in the eyes.

“Hermosa hmmm?” Santi nods his head toward the garage door and steps beside him. “I see you still get flustered when beautiful people use your full name.”

Frankie follows closely behind as he breathes out through his nose.

This was going to be a very long night.

****

They’ve got him all wrong.

What started out as a fun game of poker quickly became a tense game of figuring out what Frankie’s play was. They’ve wrongly mistaken his nervous face for a poker face and everyone keeps folding.

Just spit it out

Frankie’s sitting here in Will's converted three car garage. Half of it was a shop to work on his motorcycle and whatever project his mind needed to keep him occupied. The other half is almost an exact replica of their favorite bar, all the way down to the teak wood flooring and an old school saloon type dresser with a roll top bar in front. He’s been trying to admire all the work he’s put in. The pool table and matching poker table just add to the charm.

You’re stalling

“Fish, what’s your move?” Santiago’s voice is dripping with annoyance as Will stares down his cards like they’re going to change suits right in front of him.

He stares down at his hand and the pile of chips in front of him. He actually has a good hand this time, three of a kind and pocket aces.

It’s not about the money

“All in.” He pushes his chips in the middle while Santi and Will quickly follow suit. Benny scoffs from behind the bar as he pours himself another beer having lost all his chips ages ago.

“You losers are gonna fall for it again?”

“Who are you calling a loser?” Will chides the younger man as Santi laughs behind his cards.

“I can read this pendejo like a book…he doesn’t have shit.” Santi says the last part playfully but the first part used to ring true.

Frankie lays down his cards and Will curses under his breath and throws his face down. Bennys laughing to himself over in the corner but Santiago’s grin is deepening by the second. It takes more muscles to frown, which is why he thinks Santi has such strong features. When he smiles though…it almost knocks him off his feet.

A trickle of sweat runs down Frankie’s back as Will raises an eyebrow at Santi. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “Let’s see ‘em Pope.”

Money,Money,Money

Ten,Jack,Queen,King,Ace. Each flick of his wrist and the sound of the cards on the table as Santiago draws out his torture echo in the room. He leans in dramatically, dragging all the chips to sit in front of him. The sound of Benny whooping behind him and Will’s slow clap is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he stares at the Royal Flush in the suit of hearts. Okay karma,you made your point.

“I went back for the money.”

He knew there was no right way to drop this kind of bomb on them. Judging by the silence in the room, perhaps there was a wrong way.

It’s so quiet you can hear the rustling of the chips settled in front of Santi falling by the wayside.

Will locks eyes with Frankie as he leans back in his chair. The weight of what he just said hits him like a ton of bricks.

“So we’re rich.” Ben’s voice cuts through the silence as he pours himself another drink.

“Ben, are you kidding me!” Will goes to stand as Santi lays a gentle hand on him urging him backwards.

As crass as it may sound coming out of the younger man’s mouth he couldn’t hide from it anymore. “Ya Ben, we’re rich.”

“Why?” Santi sounds calmer than he would’ve imagined after being silent for so long. He expected a fight from him, yelling and cursing. Frankie’s brain is doing somersaults trying to keep up with his emotions. Did he want Santi to yell? To tell him he was wrong for putting his life in danger.

Maybe there’s some weird fucked of part of Frankie that wants to be treated like a martyr so he can justify all the shit he’s put them through these last few years. Or maybe it’s just hard for him to realize that Santi was capable of changing for the right person.

“I did it for you…for us.” Frankie corrects although he’s not sure why. He could be nothing but honest in front of the men he risked his life for.

Santi huffs a laugh as he shifts in his seat to look at Frankie. He picks up a stray chip rolling it on top of his fingers, some nervous tick he picked up during their army days. “You sure you didn’t do it for you.” There he is.

“What the fucks that suppposed to mean.” Frankie bites out ready for a fight. The fight he’s wanted since he landed here, back home.

“You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t go on some suicide mission without telling us…” He takes a moment to calm his breathing and lower his voice. “You did this so you could come back with something. To show us that you didn’t just leave everything for no reason. That you didn’t walk away from the best thing in your life because you got scared.” He tosses the chip and it lands in front of Frankie as Ben whistles low under his breath.

Santiago always had a way with words. He could rally the team when they were feeling down or nervous about a mission. He could convince higher ups to do things for him and make it seem like it was their idea to begin with. He could charm the pants off anyone he laid his sights to for one night or wax poetic to the love of his life.

He could also make his words cut like a knife. Those same words could make any bullet Frankie’s ever taken feel like a bee sting in comparison. If Frankie wanted him to see that he’s changed he was going to half to meet him more than half way. He’s wounded and hurt, absolutely incapable of seeing anything besides what he’s been through the last three years.

“You’re right.” Foreign words leave his lips not often spoken to the man with the ego the size of Texas. Frankie scrubs his jaw, kneading his fingers in that spot of patchy beard. “You’re right Santiago, I didn’t want to come back empty handed with nothing to show for myself. I felt like a failure after Colombia.”

“We all did.” Will cuts in as he slaps his hand down on the table. Loose chips falling to the floor.

Frankie lets out a long sigh. “I know man…I don’t mean.” Frankie underestimated how much damage he had done. Not just to Santi but to everyone. “I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to apologize, even if it comes off wrong I don’t regret one second of it. We all deserve this money and you know that.” He points at Will before continuing. “You can be mad at me all you want, I'm not running this time. I’m gonna stay and fix this even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Santi stands abruptly, saluting Ben and squeezing Will's shoulder as he exits the garage.

Will slides the small notepad for scratch paper towards him, scribbling down some numbers. He clicks the pen and tosses the notepad to Frankie as he stands from the poker table. “I suppose this is my fault.”

Frankie tilts his head in question.

“I gave those coordinates to Pope.” He clicks his tongue as he rests his hands on the table next to him, eyes drawing up in mischief. “But he told me he lost them.”

Frankie stares down at a long list of numbers. “What’s this?”

“My banking info.” Will looks at him then a little more tired behind the eyes than he’s ever seen. “I love you Fish, he loves you too.” Will slaps him on the back and exits the garage leaving Frankie with the younger Miller.

Frankie doesn’t turn around but he can picture Ben behind him. “Goodnight Ben, my favorite and only brother in the world. I love you soooo much.” He’s definitely miming with his hands. “Goodnight Will, even though you’re a pain in my ass I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Frankie laughs a little bit. It's short lived as a cold piece of ice hits the back of his neck running down his shirt right into the open crack of his jeans.

“What the fuck Ben!” Frankie turns in his seat to see him crunching on some ice. He narrowly misses another piece thrown at his head.

“I want my money by tomorrow.” He does his worst impression of a mobster as he leaves Frankie alone in the garage.

****

Santi sits on the curb in front of Will’s house as he hangs his head in his hands. Thankfully for him it’s a decently cool night compared to the awful humidity he’s usually subjected too. He often wonders why they all settled here instead of somewhere off the grid. It’s comforting in a sense, it feels like home.

It’s tearing him up inside holding onto all this anger for Frankie when he really just wants to tell him he loves him. He thought he would feel better after getting it all out, finally laying down his cards so to speak. It brewed somewhere underneath for all those years and as cathartic as it was to say it out loud it didn’t change what happened.

Now he’s left seemingly with everything he could possibly want and he feels numb.

Santi hears the front door close softly behind him as Frankie makes his way down the path. He doesn’t want to argue anymore, he just wants to let this all go and finally live a peaceful life with enough money to make sure he’ll never have to sweat again.

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He looks up to Frankie holding out his hand to help him off the curb. “Please forgive me.” His soft brown eyes look down at him. The ones he could never resist even if he tried.

He accepts his hand as he hoists him off the ground dusting off his jeans. “I forgave you a long time ago Fish.I had to for my own sanctity.”

If it’s a misstep he doesn’t correct himself. Sanity or sanctity aside, he knows hating someone for that long will eat you alive. “I would not be capable of loving her the way that I do, if I had not forgiven you.”

“Do you still love me?” Frankie asks, as selfish as it may be. Not entirely sure of what answer he’s expecting.

He’s backlit by the street lamps creating a soft halo around his brown and graying curls. Santiago has pictured them doing this walk so many times in his dreams. Moving here to start a life with him, walking home after a long day of hanging out with their brothers to head home and curl up in the soft sheets of the master bedroom.

“I never stopped loving you.” Frankie takes his hand then and he doesn’t pull away. “I never could even if I tried.”

Santi’s trying not to get choked up as he stares at their hands. Frankie grips his chin tilting it up towards him but he abruptly pulls away.

“I thought you said-“

“I know what I said. I love you.” He gestures between them. “But this…can’t happen without her.”

Frankie’s nostrils flare as he gives him an aporetic look.

“Don’t give me that shit Frankie, I see the way you look at her.”

“Looking isn’t illegal.” His possessiveness over someone that doesn’t belong to him comes out harsher than he intended.

“No you’re right it’s not, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Santi spits back at him as he glances over at the house that’s no longer Will’s. “Let’s keep moving.”

Santi gets two steps ahead before Frankie yanks his arm back bringing him face to face. Daring him to call his bluff.

“Isn’t that what you’re telling me…that I can have my cake and eat it too.” His body’s pressed against his, they’re so close he can breathe his air as he practically spits fire.

“Yes Francisco, that’s what I’m telling you.” He gently prys Frankie’s hand from his arm putting some space between them. “But I’m not doing it behind her back.”

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the-little-ewok · 10 months

Note

I've never done a request before! Could you do tummy kisses with a plus size reader? I'm always down for nsfw but you decide where it goes! Please and thank you 😁

- @mandinlore

Every inch of you

Santiago Garcia X Plus size F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2300 (ish)

Warnings : Reader is plus size, Explicit, Oral (f- receiving), lack of body confidence, insecurities, love bites, one actual bite, quick fingering, soft Santi being soft. And I do mean soft. (Yea it's cliché. I have no regrets)

Prompt/Summary : Tummy kisses/ Santiago helps show you how perfect you are

A/N : Keep the prompts short, she says, ease yourself back into writing she says…. Hahahaha enjoy your 2k ;) I got carried away. @mandinlore

Also thank you for requesting plus size! As a curvy girl myself, I absolutely loved writing this!

Side note - if anyone (who has prompts outstanding or wants to send new requests) wants a specific reader (plus size, short girl, specific job etc) please don't feel shy about asking! I'll do my best to write it!

"Cariño, you gotta tell me what's wrong? We can take things slow if that's what you want. You already know you're in control here. But, is something else wrong?" Santi sighs, sitting back on the couch after you pushed him away, yet again, before things could go too far. You couldn't blame his reaction, not after you had been hot and cold for weeks now.

Everytime he had tried to take things further, into anything that involves you removing clothing, you had made excuses to stop. He'd always backed off without complaint, reassuring you that he'll wait until you're ready, but you know he's starting to suspect there's more that you're hiding. God damn over observant Santiago Garcia. His military training served him too well in that.

The truth was, it wasn't that you didn't want things to go too far. In fact, you wanted very much to have his body pressed up against yours, his mouth against your skin, his cock buried deep inside you.

But for that to happen he had to see your body. And that was what scared you the most.

"Hey." His voice, and his fingers gripping your chin, turning your face to force you to look at him, rips you from your thoughts.

Meeting his questioning gaze you're struck, and not for the first time, by how pretty he is. Especially now — hair tousled by your fingers, eyes bright with lust, lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

It makes you want to drag him back down onto the couch and lose yourself in his kisses once more.

"Tell me where your head is at," he pleads, his gaze soft. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it.

"I don't want to take it slow," you whisper, swallowing hard, sliding your vision away from him, even as he holds your face. You focus your eyes on the coffee table, the empty glasses and half eaten snacks, the movie still playing quietly in the background. You had stopped watching some time ago when you caught him watching you more than the film.

"There's a but coming, right?" Santi prompts when you lapse into silence.

"It's just…"

It's just I don't want you to be disappointed.

It's just I don't look like your exes.

It's just I don't think you'll want me.

You trail off, struggling to find the words to explain your fears.

"It's just, what?" Santi presses, his tone still gentle as ever.

"Idontwantyoutoseeme," you mumble out quickly, flicking your eyes back to him for a split second before you look away again.

Santi lets out a sigh, although it's not one of impatience, or disappointment. It sounds more like he might be… relieved.

"That's what you're worried about? Jesus, you scared me." He gives a small chuckle, shaking his head as he takes your face in both his hands, which forces your gaze back to his. For a long moment, he studies you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You are beautiful," he states simply before his hands drop to your waist and he shifts, leaning over you and guiding you back to lie down against the couch, once more taking up his position over you, nestling himself between your thighs.

"Have you noticed what you do to me?" He asks, hammering home his point by pressing the bulge in his pants up against your core, making you gasp, despite the anxiety coiled tight in your stomach.

"With my clothes on maybe," you mumble, unable to quiet the vicious thoughts still seeping through.

"I want to see you. I want to see all of you. You don't have to hide from me," he whispers against the shell of your ear, dipping his head to place a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't think you'll like what you see." Even as the fear builds you can't stop the moan that steals its way from your lips as he seals his lips against your neck, sucking a mark there.

"Can I be the judge of that?" He asks, leaning up on his arms to look at you. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Your response comes with no hesitation. You don't even have to think about it. You do, wholeheartedly, entirely, trust him. He's done more than enough to earn that trust from you.

"I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do, but please trust me when I say I will love every inch of you."

The sincerity in his voice makes tears prick your eyes.

You swallow hard, still arguing with the voice in the back of your mind that tells you you aren't good enough for him, that he won't want you.

Santiago waits patiently while you muddle through your thoughts.

After a long moment, what feels like a millennia of debating, you give him a nod, and watch his smile transform into one of absolute pride.

"If you're uncomfortable at any time, stop me, okay?" He requests, and you nod again, not trusting your voice not to waiver if you answered.

He captures your lips once more in a long, slow, passionate kiss. His tongue mapping out every corner of your mouth, sliding along yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, keeping you breathless.

This time when his hands begin to tug the hem of your shirt up, you don't stop him.

He unpeels each layer of your clothes carefully, waiting for you to relax before he moves on to the next, almost maddeningly slow in his actions. Still, you appreciate his patience.

When you're finally fully bared, what feels like an age later, he sits back, dropping your panties to the floor as his eyes roam the flesh laid out before him.

You feel sick, dizzy with anxiety, waiting for him to realise how bad you look, how much he doesn't want you, to make excuses for you to leave.

Santiago does none of those things.

Instead, he lets out a low groan.

"Shit, you are incredible."

You could almost think he was lying, just to make you feel better, but as you look up at him, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide, licking his lips like you were a meal he's been waiting all day for, you could actually kid yourself into believing him.

You squirm under his unwavering gaze, your hands automatically going to cover your stomach, twisting away from him.

Santi`s eyebrows pull together in a deep frown, shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't ever do that again. Not with me," he scolds you softly as he pries your hands away from your body, pinning them down to the couch.

Leaning over you he captures your lips, his kisses tender and loving. His hands wander your body slowly, mapping each curve as he grinds himself against your core. Each slow roll of his hips pushes the zipper of his jeans up against your clit, drawing muffled moans from your lips. Each sound you make he swallows as though they were a vintage wine, something to be savoured.

"Want to make you feel good," he slurs, finally giving you a moment to breathe. "Can I make you feel good?"

Still unable to form words, you nod, probably a little too enthusiastically, causing Santi's eyes to crinkle as he grins.

"Yeah?" He confirms, moving his kisses down to your breasts, peppering them with soft brushes of his lips. "Baby gonna be good and let me kiss her all over?"

You can feel the slick wetness pooling between your legs, the heat blazing across your skin, the blood roaring in your ears, and the ever present anxiety nipping at your thoughts, a constant companion which never seems to quiet.

Well, that is until Santi bites your nipple, turning your yelp at the sharp pain, into a moan as he soothes it with his tongue.

After that, all your thoughts, good and bad, begin to get a little hazy.

"Mmmm I like that noise," he hums, lathering your other breast with the same attention, making you struggle to catch your breath with the pleasure he was already wringing from you.

As his kisses trail lower, his lips pressing against the plush of your stomach, you can't help but try to curl in on yourself, trying to hide as much as you can in the small space of the couch.

It's a pointless endeavour. Santi's mouth pays particular attention to every part you try to twist away, or subtly hide as you move your arms.

He spends an age trailing soft kisses all the way across your stomach, before working his way back to your naval, and then down, leaving tiny love bites in his wake. A trail marking you as his over all the places you hate, before he stops, head between your already trembling thighs, looking up at you.

When your eyes meet his, he grins before he dips his head, holding your gaze as he thrusts his tongue deep inside you.

Your head slams back against the arm of the couch, your eyes squeezing shut, the image of his face buried in your pussy blazing behind your eyelids. You choke back a moan as his tongue loops up around your clit, before back down to taste you again.

"Keep making noises like that and we're going to have a problem," he warns, warm breath fanning out across your already heated skin, making you squirm with the stimulation.

You have no idea what problem he's talking about, and as his tongue slides through your folds, up to circle your clit a second time, you really couldn't care less about it either.

Your back arches as you chase the warm pleasure of his mouth, a groan of his name falling from your lips. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts on your pussy like a starved man.

Curses and praises fall freely from your lips, accompanied by whimpers and moans as he expertly coaxes you closer and closer to the edge, all your anxieties silenced by the overwhelming pleasure that stops you from concentrating on anything else.

Santi groans, a noise that vibrates through your entire core, and pushes you dangerously close to the edge. When one of his hands disappears from your thigh, you can't help but open your eyes to glance down at him, your breath catching.

His eyes are closed, a look of pure bliss you haven't seen before on his face, as his tongue laps languidly at your slick cunt, while he palms his hard cock through his pants.

You throw your head back once more with a whine, unable to continue to watch him as he chooses that moment to seal his lips over your clit and suck, hard.

The vision of him, the overwhelming pleasure, the heat of his mouth, is too much, and you come undone with a strangled cry, your body trembling, and your vision going white as the pleasure crests and crashes over you.

Even through the roaring noise of blood in your ears, and the way your orgasm makes your mind fuzzy, you still catch the tail end of Santiago's gasped curse, followed by a low, broken groan. You can't help but think it sounds suspiciously like….

You don't even get to fully finish the thought before your body shudders in desire. That couldn't be the case when you haven't even touched him.

Then again the look on his face before…

When you can finally feel your limbs again you lean up on your elbows to look down your body at him, as he, somewhat awkwardly, sits back on his heels, a wet patch blooming out on his pants.

"Santi…did you…?" You swallow, trailing off as he looks somewhat abashed.

"Um, yeah," he admits, an unmistakable blush forming on his cheeks.

"Because of….me?" You ask quietly, feeling a strange sense of pride that, even as you are, you were able to do that to him.

"Oh, enjoying this, are we?" Santi laughs teasingly, relaxing a little when he sees your wide eyed surprise and the smile you're trying to bite down.

Putting his arms either side of you, he cages you in, as he runs his nose up the length of your neck. Even the lightest of touches makes your body shiver with desire.

"Maybe…a bit," you admit, a little distractedly as he places a kiss below your ear, pressing his body against yours, clearly knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

"Good," he mumbles into your skin. "Although next time I cum I want to be buried inside you."

He whispers it so sinfully low in your ear, you swear you could cum again just from his words.

Your breath catches and you can feel Santiago's smug smile against your neck, where he's still busy pressing soft kisses.

"I'm a little bit disappointed though," you manage to swallow out, trying to ignore the way his hand is skimming across your sweat damp skin, down the outside of your thigh, before slowly working its way back up.

Santi pulls back to look at you so quickly, you're surprised he doesn't put his back out.

"Disappointed?"

You can't quite tell if it's outrage or concern, that laces his tone, but whichever it is, you can't stop the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, only making him frown more deeply.

"Cariño," he starts, stopping when you put a hand over his mouth to interrupt him.

"I'm disappointed I didn't get to see you."

It takes a moment for him to catch up, still clearly trying to work out what he has done wrong to disappoint you, but the moment it clicks his face transforms into a wolfish grin.

"Well, give me half an hour and I'll show you anything you want," he winks. "For now I guess I'll go back to admiring you." His eyes flicker once more down your body, surveying you like prey.

It makes your pussy clench.

"You really mean it don't you?" You whisper as he tilts his head in question. "You do like me the way I am?"

"I really mean it," he confirms seriously, "you are perfect."

He doesn't give you much time to think too hard about his confirmation, or really anything at all. Leaning back into you he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, clearly working on making you forget your own name.

You wrap one hand around the back of his neck, holding him to you as the other slips down his back to playfully squeeze his ass, drawing a low growl from the man above you.

Santiago is quick enough to get his revenge, slipping a hand between your bodies to brush his fingers against your clit.

You let out a gasp, and shudder with the over stimulation, as his fingers draw tight circles against your sensitive nub.

"You said half an hour," you practically whimper, unable to stop your hips canting up against his hand.

"For me. I didn't say you get a break." He smirks, slipping a finger into your wet heat, drawing another broken sound from you. "I want you to make those pretty sounds for me again… and again… and again."

-------------

If you enjoyed this please, please, reblog and tell me your thoughts! Reblogs and feedback are so important to content creators. It keeps us creating!

Special thank you to my patient, most lovely beta, who puts up with every smutty Santi thought that enters my brain @beldroxramscal

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hoedamn-eron · 3 months

Text

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

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