Why Would I? (s.g)
“so if you don’t like them, then you won’t mind me asking them out then, right?” With Santi from Triple Frontier?
why would i? (s.g)
summary: you’re the youngest Miller, a baby girl. protected by your older brothers. your brothers’ lives finally intertwine with yours at your eldest brothers wedding when you meet their friends. warnings: timeline wise at the end its right before they leave, kind of slow burn, female reader, age gap (15 years), language, mentions of blood, violence, consumption of alcohol, some rando getting his shit rocked in word count: 4.6k
Ever since the moment you opened your little eyes. You were a princess, the baby, doted upon and spoiled endlessly. The Miller family weren’t expecting you. Especially not two teenage boys who had to fight the urge not to throw you like a football, most of the time.
They were only fifteen and thirteen. The appeal of a baby sister was lost the second they saw pink confetti at the gender reveal party. Over time, and with your parents' persuasion, no doubt. They started to warm up to the idea of a baby sister, someone to protect. It gave new meaning once they both got to hold you in their arms. To watch you struggle to open your eyes. You were so small, so fragile. They loved you from that day on. Whatever you said, went. You got everything you wanted, but you were taught to be grateful, caring. In the short time you had with them, your brothers would follow your every beck and call. You were barely a toddler by the time Will was finishing high school. But you were always in attendance at all of his games, matches, club and school events. You always did assist in helping bring girls’ attention to him. He looked like a total sweetheart with you around.
Will was nineteen when he left. You only had four short years with your eldest brother before he shipped himself off to the military. Benny followed at nineteen too. You were six by then. You had grown closest to Benny. Even though you had always made sure Will never lacked your attention. You exchanged letters and drawings and packages. Your mother bought a camera to take pictures of you growing up for the two of them through your letters. Your sloppy penmanship would always put a smile on the brother’s faces. Will would tell you the lighthearted stories about his army buddies, jokes they told and funny stories about their time there. And as you got older Benny would allow you to hear more of the truthful stories. Stories where things went wrong, someone almost got hurt. How one of their fellow troops was killed. Things your mother would faint at the sound of. That made you wonder if your brothers were truly okay out there. It very rarely gave you enough comfort to sleep at night knowing they at least had each other and their friends.
For a couple years the letters had become sporadic. You would always wait for the mail to arrive and instantly run to the mailbox. Soon enough, weeks would come without any word from either of them. Benny would eventually send them on behalf of the both of them. They were shorter, mostly telling you that they were okay and they missed you. That they had gotten ‘promoted’ and they were important. They were just busy. And while you were sad. You knew it probably was true, they were busy. You would continue to send letters, though. Explaining things you felt were important to your life, hoping it would ease some of their anxieties.
You were seventeen when they both briefly came back. Right as you were going to graduate high school. They claimed they came home because they could never miss a moment like that. But you aren’t sure how likely their stories are. They watched you throw your cap in the air, just like you had done many, many years prior. They both felt such a strong sense of pride, although both admitted to each other that the guilty feeling of missing most of your life was present, persistent. Will more than Benny. Benny tried to convince him you would never be upset at them. You could never be, they fought for you, in many ways. Truthfully, you were just happy they were home and safe. You cried when they left again, you were still just a kid. Refined, more poised than a four year old. But it still hurt them all the same, watching the tears that formed in your eyes. Trying to hold back your staggered breaths with a smile. A simple. “Don’t forget to write again. I love you guys.” Was the last they heard.
Three years later your mother had begged the two boys to come back home and live as a family for a couple of years. ‘Just to get settled into life again.’ She would say. But you know it probably didn’t take much convincing for them to stay. It was exciting, after so many years of the hallways being quiet. There was finally a joyful noise that filled the house. Banter over dinner and rowdy movie nights. It wasn’t all perfect, of course. There were many nights that were just as loud in the worst kind of way. Fights and arguments. Your dad hated that Benny fought petty street fights for money. And Will had nightmares a lot, the kind that left him with his head in his hands at the kitchen island. You always seemed to wake in time to join him. Comfort him in the way he seemed to be so seamlessly able to soothe you as a child. Your hand on his back as a crutch. To say, “I’ve got you.”
It was two years before Will moved out. He had met a woman six months after his return. Fell head over heels. Your family adored her. She was kind, accepting, and comforting. Most importantly she was willing to be with your brother no matter what. It made you swoon. You were so happy for your brother to find that kind of support. Love. He deserved it. You couldn’t believe he was really all grown up. You were too, but it was different. You were the baby, you were always going to be. Will wasn't some ragged teenager anymore. Somehow you blinked and found yourself at his wedding. It was a lovely little reception, the venue was beautiful and it was a perfect summer day. You didn’t really date as of lately, you had gone on plenty of dates as a teen. But it was a little harder when you had two older brothers standing over you like two gargoyles. You had a short term boyfriend but it wasn’t more than a few dinner dates and maybe a couple kisses here and there. Not that your romantic life bothered you. You were young, twenty two was too young to stay in a long term romantic relationship. There were options, you just didn’t take them. You were content in your life. Or that’s what you kept telling yourself, noticing that you seemed to be the only one at the wedding who didn’t bring a date, or at least someone to stand next to. Jesus. You should’ve taken the chance to call your friend to be your plus one. You take a deep breath to avoid your mind falling into an even deeper hole, but the sound of Benny’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“Yo, kiddo! We want you to meet some people.”
You take his extended hand and follow him over to a table that seemed to have three other men, followed by two women who you presumed were their dates. You exchanged pleasantries. And came to learn of their names, Tom, Francisco and Santiago. Once you were introduced to their dates you noticed Santiago didn’t come with one. For some reason, it puts you at ease. Hoping to ignore the later questions of “Why didn’t you bring a date?” Benny brings you a chair to sit and you find yourself sitting right in between Santiago and Francisco. Although he prefers to be called ‘Frankie’, you’ve heard. The dinner goes smoothly, you finally get the speeches. One by one the friends take their turn speaking about Will. How headstrong he was, what a good friend he was. How happy he seemed now that he was married to the love of his life. How proud they all were of him. It gave you a sense of pride to be related to someone so selfless. The moment Santiago stood up your eyes immediately trailed his stature. The way the suit was fitted to him, and his cufflinks had a quick glimmer when light passed through. You quickly turn your gaze to Will, sending him a sweet smile. He nods in acknowledgment and turns his eyes back to Santiago. You follow suit, hoping no one noticed you staring and also hoping the quick detour would have your mind back on track. Although whatever track that is, you’re not completely sure. His speech is heartwarming, you can’t tell if he’s showing his charisma off or if he is really that charming. You watch the guys shake with a hearty laughter at one of their inside jokes being thrown in.
After a while, the moment starts to die down. Couples are moving to the dance floor. You opt out of the dance for a glass or two of champagne that you so gracefully took from a walking server. Sitting in a chair on the sidelines you appreciate the atmosphere. The slow music, dull lights and overall happiness in the room. You feel bubbly by the time the next song plays. And through half lidded eyes you notice that someone took a seat next to you. “You good there, chiquita?” The voice calls out. You find yourself tensing up and turning to face him. “No, yeah, I’m fine.. Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you..” You mumble out. There’s a stretched out silence before he speaks up again. “You wanna dance? You’ve been sitting here all night.” His question doesn’t sound like a question at all. He seemed certain you would say yes. You nodded at him, standing and walking out to the dance floor. He took your hand and placed it on his shoulder, while he planted his hands firmly on your waist. He set a distance between the two of you that made you want to laugh. Quite the gentleman, it seems. The two of you swayed kind of awkwardly for a bit until he suddenly seemed to give a little slack. The distance closed slightly. One continuous slow song after the other and you soon found yourself with no distance from Santiago. Your chests touching and his hands rubbing up and down your back. Your head tucked in the slot between his collarbone and shoulder. The smell of his cologne was all you could feel in the air surrounding. You swayed to the music, falling into a comfortable rhythm. The next song was fast paced, causing the two of you to pull away as if you got singed. Both of you frantically looked around, almost as if waiting for a punishment. Like dancing with someone at a wedding was wrong. It hadn’t felt wrong, you clear your throat and say your goodbyes. The rest of the party continued on as normal, no one seemingly noticing the two of you in such close proximity. You spent the rest of the time exchanging stolen glances at each other.
You didn’t hear of him much after the wedding. Just little hints of his life from your brothers. You came to learn his nickname was ‘Pope’. Every time the name would pop up your attention was just suddenly on whoever was talking. After a month there was complete radio silence on anything Pope related. You were settling back into life and that little fantasy was just that. A small moment you could cherish once in a while. Until one night, you were sitting with Will and your sister in law at their house. Watching some random romcom that the two of you had picked out to force Will to watch. It was going pretty well, you had a bowl of popcorn in between your thighs as you sat legs crossed on the couch. Suddenly his phone rang. And you pouted as he paused the movie to answer it. “Hello?” Then silence, and more silence. Then— “Jesus, Pope.. Colombia? Are you sure? Alright. Only the best, my brother. Be safe.” The call had ended as abruptly as it started and Will was playing the movie without a second thought. He shuffled back into the couch and wrapped an arm around his wife. You couldn’t focus on the movie after that, and you hoped neither of the two could sense the same tension in the air you felt, but it’s likely they did. Life continued on after that, you managed to push every and all thought of Santiago to the back of your mind. It seemed to work, you got a job, started to go out more. Arranged things to move out, almost an hour away from home. Into the city in a small apartment. Your brothers were right there as you twisted the key into the lock for the first time. You slowly and surely started to root your life in your space. You saved up enough money for a cute little car. A black sedan. You were starting to mature, but it would’ve been nothing without the help of your family. It would be another three years before you saw his face again.
The heat of summer was enough for you to contemplate jumping into the pool with your dress on. The barbecue was lively, there was Tom and his now ex-wife, Molly and their daughter, Tess. Frankie and his fiancée with their new baby. Your darling brothers fighting over who starts up the grill. Your excitement fell slightly at the thought of Santiago not being here. But from what you finally heard from the group, Santiago had been down in South America for the better part of the three years since Will’s wedding. You sigh and head for the table with all the drinks. The sound of cheers and laughs makes your eyes turn to the fence gate. Where Santiago now stands. Hugging all of his friends. You smile, getting ready to go up and greet him when you realize there’s a woman standing by his side. You halt in your tracks and settle for a slight wave and a quick ‘hello’. Your gaze lingers on the woman for a second too long before you turn your face to see Will finally starting up the grill. You sink your teeth slightly into your bottom lip and sit by the pool in a lounge chair. She was gorgeous, older than you, but not by more than five years. She seemed so refined, effortlessly beautiful even in the scorching heat of summer. The curls of her blonde hair bounce almost as to taunt you as she wraps her arm around his. You groan and let the back of your head hit the back of the chair. Your face was on fire. You felt childish, to have an on again off again crush on a man who clearly isn’t single and is the same age as your older brother. And not to mention they're best friends. You purposely want to ignore how you haven’t shared more than six words with the man. When you think it aloud in your head, you were crazy to believe there was anything there in the first place. Unless you misread the tension and he felt more like you were an annoying sidelines sister instead of a person.
Around eight pm Will’s next door neighbors had stopped by to join. They were nice enough, two parents and a single son. No other children. You had spoken to their son once or twice before while you were visiting but didn’t think much of it. It was perfect timing for them to get in and eat. You kept your position by the pool, only moving to get drinks or change seats. You had your feet dipped in the water while you stared at the night sky. You were so engrossed in your own thoughts you didn’t hear the sound of the back door sliding open and closed. You didn’t pay much attention until the sounds of clothes shuffling and a soft grunt came from next to you. It was Santiago, with his pants rolled up his calf and his feet in the water with you. You beamed immediately, then deflated and avoided his gaze when you remembered who he came with. “How are you?” He broke the silence first. You took a second to think before answering his question with one of your own. “Don’t you think I should be asking that?” He chuckles at you before glancing at your reflection in the water. “Yeah that’s.. You’re right there, chiquita.” You smirked in triumph. The sound of the nickname rolling off his tongue made you instinctively press your thighs together. You watch his eyes flicker to your legs before back to your face. If he notices, he doesn't say anything. “I’m good. By the way..” You finally say. He hums in acknowledgment with a small smile on his face. “You look gorgeous, I like the dress.” His compliment cuts your breath short. Face going red as you turn to look away from him. “Thanks, Santiag—“ “Santi. You can just call me Santi.” You smile. “Thanks, Santi.” This time it’s his turn to avoid your eyes and he clears his throat before getting up and out of the water. “I’ll uh, see you inside?” You shrug and lean back on the palms of your hands. He runs a hand down the lower part of his face and neck before turning on his heel and walking back towards the sliding door.
Once the door is shut Santiago shakes his head and shoulders. Trying to ignore how beautiful you looked in your dress. Trying to forget the twitch of your thighs when he called you that. Did you like that? Did you find it creepy? Trying to focus back on being able to maneuver his way through endless conversation and questioning. Forcing himself to interact with a woman he really couldn’t care less for. Albeit he feels bad that he can’t care more for her, she was pretty nice. He grabs another beer and takes a seat on the couch once he’s dried his feet on a beach towel. His date takes a seat tucked underneath his arm and he goes to take a heavy swig. He looks down at her, her blue eyes staring right back into his brown ones. He forgot her name. She was meeting what he considered family and he couldn’t even remember her fucking name? Santiago needed to get his life on track. But after three years looking for that cockroach in South America all he wanted was to take a breather. At least before he went back to finish the job. That meant finding a new girl to be under him every other week. Santi had heard this record millions of times before, the same skip in the track. Where he can’t take the different woman to fill the void anymore. But he isn’t there yet, he tells himself. He’s at a nice summer barbecue, there isn’t anything or anyone that’s looking for him back in the states. There is no one with a gun to his head or far off with a scope that has him in clear sight. He can take a breath without having to worry if it’ll be too loud and alert an enemy.
He’s so deep in thought he doesn’t even notice the kid shaking at his shoulder asking him to talk. Santiago grunts as the boy pulls him into a room deeper throughout the house. He recognizes him as the neighbor's kid but just barely. What was his name? “Uh.. Tony? Right?” Santiago asks him. “Yeah, Anthony but Tony works too.. Just wanted to ask..” He clears his throat and places his hands on his hips. Paces around. Santiago sucks air through his teeth. “Ask what, kid? Spit it out.” After hearing what the boy had to say he wishes he didn’t ask. “Are you and the youngest Miller like, fucking or something?” Santiago takes a step back in shock. “What? What the fuck, no?” Tony raises an eyebrow and sends a condescending smirk Santiago’s way. “Alright, so if you don’t like her.. Then you won’t mind me asking her out then, right?” Santiago scowls. “Why would I? Listen, man. That’s your fucking business. Not mine.” He lets out a deep breath, wishing he could walk away from this moment. This horribly awkward moment. Santiago wanted to sink into the floor. Had people thought they were? Together? The thought ran a shudder down Santiago’s spine. His jaw clenched before he heard the young man in front of him speak again. “Good. I was worried you were her fucking sugar daddy or somethin—” Santiago didn’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence before his fist collided with the boy's chin. It shoved Tony back a couple steps and sent him against a side table, shoving a vase to the floor which managed to catch the attention of Will. Santiago shook his hand before reeling back and throwing another punch. Sending Tony to the ground this time. Crouching down to the floor he whispers to Tony. “You can ask her whatever you want. But don't forget to have some fucking respect. ¿Entiendes?” Tony nodded his head furiously. Not soon enough was the door swinging open with Will pulling Santiago up from the ground and pushing him aside to lift up Tony.
“What the fuck, Pope?”
Santiago just wiped his nose with his hand and walked away. As he walked towards the door of the room the stupid boy had brought them into, you rushed in. You overheard Will's voice and then the sudden questioning of Tony to ask if he was alright. The blood that dripped on the floor contradicted his next statement. “I’m fine. I guess I just struck a nerve.” Santiago’s jaw clenched before he turned on his heel and left. The girl he came with followed behind. Will sighed. Then got up and went to grab a first aid kit. You stared down at where Anthony was sitting. “What happened?” You asked. He smiled up at you. “Nothing, darling. I guess he just got defensive when I asked if you guys were a thing. That’s all.” You blinked at him. “A thing? W-We’ve spoken like four times in the past six years I don’t think that's considered a thing.. Plus he brought a woman.” There was a slight edge to your voice. You wouldn’t describe why this conversation had started to aggravate you so quickly. “Careful. You sound jealous.” Anthony sent a chuckle your way. And while it was supposed to feel like a warm joke you only felt the ice coating the words of his sentence. Jealous? You were jealous. You liked Santiago, you liked the idea of being a thing with him. You just know he wouldn’t feel the same. You gave him a dry chuckle. “Right. Feel better, Tony.” You sent him a cold glare before crossing your arms and walking out of the room. You walked out onto the porch where you saw Tom, Frankie and Santi standing around his jeep. At a closer inspection you noticed the woman he came with sitting in the passenger seat of the car. You made your way to them. They dropped silent when you approached, which you met with a scoff. “All quiet now? What was that about, Santi?” He sighs before turning his back to you and starts to walk to his car door. You scoffed again and rolled your eyes. Looking at Frankie while Santiago started his car and began to back out of the driveway. “Seriously, what the hell is his problem?” You ask the taller man, who only responds in a chuckle. “You make him nervous, that's all.” He brings his hand up to ruffle your hair before he and Tom both walk back into the house after Frankie drops that on you.
Nervous? You made Santiago nervous? He made you nervous, he made your heart speed up and your breath catch in your throat. You tried so desperately to blame it on his lover boy persona but you knew you found him attractive for your own reasons. You sighed and sat on the porch steps. You just needed to be away from the party, You weren’t expecting him to roll back up. And clearly, he wasn’t expecting you to be sitting at the front entrance. “Were you waiting for me?” He asks hesitantly, you look up at him and smile slightly. “Not necessarily, but it’s a nice surprise that you came back.” You pat the space on the steps next to you. “I know what made you hit him. But how did he word it?” Your question makes Santiago uneasy, you probably thought he was a total creep. Strange for hitting a younger man who probably would capture your attention more than he would. “He asked if we were fucking. Then he said he thought I was your sugar daddy.” He spits out the sentence through gritted teeth and tense shoulders. He only relaxes the second he hears you cackle beside him. He looks over to you in surprise. “Oh god he’s so stupid. That’s hilarious. I appreciate you hitting him for me. Defending my honor and all that.” A heat bubbles in Santiago’s chest at the sound of your laugh. He wants to hear it again and again until you can’t laugh anymore. He chuckles and elbows your arm. “Come on, wouldn’t you wanna be with a fun guy like him?” You stop laughing and look into Santiago’s eyes. “No way, he isn’t my type at all.” Your sentence is more of a whisper. “What’s your type?” Santiago’s question goes unanswered, instead turning your head to lean in.
Santiago starts to lean in too, and for a second you wonder if you’re imagining it. Then, as if he regains some form of self restraint he pulls away from you before swallowing harshly. “Shit, I–We can’t.” You frown at him. “Why can't we?” Your kicked puppy expression has Santiago wishing he could kiss it off of you, give into you. Give you what you truly wanted. But he isn’t meant for that, the white picket fence and family with a dog. Three bedroom house with a backyard and a mortgage. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. He just didn’t think he could actually achieve it. “–You know why. I think I’d die a fatal death by Millers before my actual time. No way authorities would find my body, either..” He laughs dryly to himself. But you continue to stare at him with a stern expression. “I'm not a child, you know. I can make my own choices.” He sighs and places a hand on the side of your face. “I know, princesa. It’s just complicated.” You sigh and lean into his touch. “Tell me you don’t want me then.” “What?” His voice is a whisper as he gazes into your eyes. “Tell me.. You don’t want to be with me, try with me. And I’ll drop it.” You watch as his jaw clenches. The silence makes you wonder if that’s his answer to you. You go to wiggle out of his space before he pulls you towards him into a bruising kiss. You hum into his lips and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands move towards your hips, and with a soft grunt he’s lifting you up into his arms, carrying you and walking towards his jeep before setting you down in front of the passenger door. “You want this? Me? Won't be easy.” He chuckles once more, this time it’s genuine. You smile up at him, face flushed, with your pupils blown out and your lips plump from the earlier kiss. “Have for years, Santi. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
“I couldn’t ever make you wait, chiquita.”
More Posts from Lilith-safarina and Others
come out
jake lockley x reader
summary: you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it. you couldn’t be mad at him. not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.
warnings: ending fades to implied smut, sexual innuendos
tags: tooth rotting fluff, literally no plot just fluff, soft!jake, seriously this man needs to be held
word count: 0.9k
The back of Jake's knuckles brushed lightly against your cold cheek. You stirred as you rubbed your eyes, still hazy from sleep.
You knew it was Jake from the soft and aching look in his gaze– you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it.
You smiled endearingly at him, brushing back the curls falling over his forehead.
“‘Morning, Jake” you murmured, smoothing your hand along his bicep as his elbow was propped beside you, planted into the mattress.
Jake felt his heart flutter at the demonstration of you recognizing him so easily.
“‘Morning cariño” he whispered as he leaned to leave a kiss at the bridge of your nose. “How’d you know it was me?” he asked, letting his fingertips travel down the side of your face.
“An intuition” you affirmed, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.” you breathed out, heart aching as the words escaped your lips.
“I know” he complied as he shamefully closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry querida” he apologized, looking right back into your eyes, searching for a trace of blame in them.
There was none.
You couldn’t blame him, you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.
“I know it’s hard for you,” you said, mirroring his actions and bringing your hand to the side of his face. “But I don’t want you to push yourself too much. Take your time, okay honey?”
He nodded, a pained look covering his face, and nuzzled your hand leaving a kiss at your palm.
“Thank you” he mumbled against your skin before leaving another kiss there.
You chuckled and buried your hand into his curls. “What are you thanking me for?”
“For being so considerate. For understanding me.” he affirmed, smiling weakly. “Us.” he corrected himself.
You hooked your hands behind his neck and brought him down to your lips. He kissed them with as much passion and devotion he could give you, cherishing the intimacy and rarity of the moment.
His necklace dangled under your chin and you lightly tugged on it, drawing a sharp gasp from him before he smirked into the kiss and flicked his tongue over your bottom lip in need to feel you even more.
It didn’t take long for him to lick into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly until he ran out of breath.
He pulled away but remained close, nuzzling your neck as you ran your hands along his bare back, nails softly scraping against his warm skin just the way you knew he liked.
“I love you” he mumbled into your neck. He had wanted to say it, but he hadn’t expected the words to escape his mouth so easily. It needed to be said anyways.
He left a kiss in the crook of your neck, punctuating his previous words.
You felt your heart skip a beat, and one of your hands mindlessly traveled to his curls like it was a reflex. You scraped your nails against his scalp, and soothingly swiped your thumb over his shoulder blade with your other hand.
“I love you too Jake” you replied, looking down at the man buried into your neck.
He adored when you held him like that; just you and him, nothing else around, no one else around, no Khonshu, no danger, no blood to shed– just him resting in your arms, cherishing his turn at fronting without it being an emergency to protect his alters; just him living his life with you, taking the time to breathe. He could get used to it.
“I would love to see you come out more often,” you affirmed as he looked back at you. “I know it’s hard and I’m not putting you under pressure but–”
“–Yeah” he nodded, pinching his lips. “I know” he said in a whisper as he dived to kiss your lips again, his fingers holding your chin while he did so. He pulled away, threading his fingers through your hair as he remained leaning over you. “Truth is– I want you all the time” he said with a small grin growing at the corner of his mouth. “All the fucking time.” he added through gritted teeth.
“Well… You can have me all you want now” you whispered with a small chuckle, and you knew from there that the atmosphere had changed. Jake stopped his kisses and stayed still for a moment. Did you break him?
“...Jake?” you called, confused at his silent state. Jake wasn’t very talkative but this was strange.
“...All I want ?” he finally asked back, his dark eyes carefully examining your face.
You chuckled softly. “All you want.” you affirmed, stroking the back of his neck.
A small smirk grew on his lips. “Mmmh okay. Interesting. Very interesting” he hummed as his hands met your hips, gently kneading the skin there before diving right back to your neck, leaving open mouthed, warm kisses there.
You almost choked on air at the sudden feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin– you should have expected it, it’s Jake after all.
“Jake!” you exclaimed, uncontrolled giggles escaping your mouth.
“I better take advantage of that free time then, mh?” he asked before kissing your cheek, tangling his legs with yours.
“Yeah you better” you teased, only hoping all of this will get him to front more often.
It was only a matter of time before Jake finally felt legitimate fronting as much as Marc and Steven did.
—
moon knight taglist:
@apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt
My You-niverse: Blue Jones
Fandom: Oscar Isaac
Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader, Blue Jones x F!Reader (this chapter only)
Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.
Warning: some violence because it's Blue
Series Masterlist
You looked like you were in a basement. You and America were looking around when a door burst open. Two bulky men in suits walk in and following them was..Marc?
"Grab her," your husband's doppelgänger points to America.
Her eyes widen, "What? No! No! Let go of me! Y/N!" she yells, trying to free herself from the men's grasps.
"America!" you go to reach out for her, but the Marc look-alike pointed a stern finger at you.
"Don't. You. Fucking. Dare." he marches up to you, glaring you with his brown eyes. He roughly grabs your face and tsks, "I'm really disappointed in you, Bunny."
You gulp. You've seen Marc angry before but this was different. First off, this wasn't Marc. Secondly, Not Marc was angry at you, so angry he looks like he's ready to kill you.
Two men appeared in the doorway of the basement, "Blue."
The man you now know as Blue, whipped his head around, "What?" he sneered.
"We got a situation upstairs."
Blue sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Of course." he looks at you and beckons you with a finger, "Follow me and don't even think about running."
You nod and promptly follow the man who looks just like your husband.
_____________
America was thrown into a room, the metal door shutting behind her. She began banging against it, "HEY! NO! LET ME OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEY!" she slumped against the door defeated.
She turned around, facing the room and tried summoning a portal. Again, nothing.
"Crap!" she hissed.
She hoped that you'd be able to get to her and the two of you would be able to get out there.
______________
Blue led you to a room that you assumed to be his office. He went around his desk and pulled out a gun from a drawer. He set the weapon on the table and your eyes widened.
When he looked up and saw the fear in your eyes, he chuckled, "No, Bunny. This isn't for you." he moved back around the desk to you, "But if I see that gun out of place, you'll wish it was for you." he lightly tapped your cheek, "Stay here and be good."
You watched him walk out of the room and as soon as the door closed, you scrambled looking for anything you can use a weapon. You eyed a letter opener and immediately grabbed it. You slid it into your pants where it couldn't be seen and you waited.
You're not sure how much time passed, but Blue came back with three men, one of which was holding America.
"Y/N!" she exclaimed in relief and you moved towards her but Blue stopped you.
"Not uh uh, Bunny. We're gonna have a little chat." You and America were forced into the two chairs that were in front of Blue's desk.
Blue sat at the edge of his desk, gun now in hand, "We have an issue. Bunny," he sighs with a shake of his head, "You were my star. My girl. And now look at you. You're really going to throw it all away for some brat?! I gave you everything!"
"This isn't right, Blue."
He scoffs, "Oh so now you wanna tell me what's right and what's wrong? Baby, did you forget that we built this together? Where the fuck is this 'holier than thou' act comin' from, huh?"
"I-I don't know," you stammer out.
Blue let's out a deep breath, "I can't let this slide you know. If you go unpunished, the other girls will think they can walk all over me. And we can't have that now, can we?" he cocks his gun and raises it up. Slow, with intimidation.
But you were quick. You slid out the letter opener, flinging it at Blue. It lands in his shoulder with a howl of pain.
Angry, Blue raises his gun towards you and America throws out her hand with a scream. Suddenly, a bright, star shaped portal appeared.
The men in the room, including Blue, froze, "What the fuck?" Blue mumbled.
"Come on!" you grab America and you two rush to the portal.
You hear gunshots and a pain in your arm. You land in some grass with a thud and the portal disappears.
You and America sigh in relief before your sigh turns into a groan of pain.
"Fucking shit," you sneer as you observe your bleeding arm.
"Are you alright?" you look up to see a man who, again, looked like your husband, but also not.
Half Of You (Part 4) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. mentions of infidelity, cursing, innuendo, mentions of pregnancy.
Summary: A couple of friends drop by and stir the pot. Or the pitcher, rather.
A/N: Thanks so much for sticking with this slow-burn series, team. Sorry for the late update, life has been sort of chaotic at the moment. Hope you enjoy and I plan to update sooner for the next chapter. Much love 💚
![Half Of You (Part 4) [Santiago Garcia X Fem!Reader]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ad1ea3ea73b90bdeb947c95d14afc32c/17b16a61d4064510-45/s500x750/f8bb1498c95ad36c455825bfef5539a36b0d610e.gif)
Santi may have been right. This may have been too big of a task for you to do by yourself. You did get all the pieces of your plant bench out of the box and on the floor of the patio, grouping all the similar lengths of untreated wood together. And you even peeled off all the little stickers! Each piece had a little sticker on with a letter on it, and you assumed it had been for the factory worker’s benefit— to put 5 slats of A wood and 4 slats of b-length wood etcetera etcetera in to each box… it was only when you were reading the directions you realized the stickers were there to help YOU, the assembler, determine what piece went were. So you sat on the patio, staring at the now unlabeled wood pile, a tiny stack of peeled useless stickers, and a little booklet telling you to attach four slats of B to one slat of D and having no fucking clue which is which.
You cringe outwardly and drag your hand down your face. Santi is never going to let you live this down. He’s definitely going to bring this up in any future DIY endeavor, “yeah but remember the time with the stickers?” dammit. You cut your losses, resigned to the fact that Santi is going to have to help you with the plant bench, if not build it himself. You’re lucky he’s busy wacking his lawn at the moment and not sitting on the porch swing watching you make a fool of yourself.
It’s hot outside and you know that if you’re getting heated in the shade of your patio while doing zero physical activity (besides mentally kicking yourself), Santi must be sweltering in the Florida sun with his long sleeves, work gloves, wrap-around sunglasses, and ear protectors (which your pretty sure double at the gun range). You abandon the plant bench and go inside to make him (and yourself) some blackberry lemonade.
——————
“Knock, Knock, telegram!”
Renatta lets herself in through your open kitchen door, setting down a thick manilla folder on the counter where you’re mottling the lemon rinds.
“Hey! Come in! I’d give you a hug but my hands are covered in sugar. Have a seat.”
“Oooh whatcha making?” She seats herself at a barstool, leaning on the counter, and plucks a washed blackberry from the colander. “Something sweet?” She asks through a mouthful of fruit.
“Blackberry lemonade.” She takes a small handful of the blackberries into her palm and pops another into her mouth. “If you keep eating them though, it’s just going to be plain lemonade.”
“You need any help?”
“Sure! You can take that press right there and juice the berries for me. If there are any left, that is.”
“Oh hush. You making lemonade for Santiago?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Girl I don’t need a law degree to figure that out. There’s a hunky sweaty man in your front yard wacking the fuck out of your weeds. Of course you’re making him lemonade.”
She makes her way over to the sink to wash her hands. “Damn. Speaking of sweet….” You look up at Renatta and she’s staring out the kitchen window with a glazed stare and an eyebrow raised. You follow her gaze through the window to the front yard where Santi is bent over, denim ass on display, fruitlessly pulling the engine starter on his old gas powered lawn mower.
“Renatta!” You laugh and flick some sugar at her fuchsia tank top.
“What!” She laughs in mock defense, putting the berries in the press. “We better hurry up with this lemonade because it’s getting hot out there, if you catch my drift.”
You smile and shake your head combining the sugared lemon rinds and piths together. You nod your head toward the manilla folder.
“Are those the papers?”
“Oh, you mean Santiago’s baby daddy waivers? Yes those are them.”
“That’s the legal term for it huh?”
“Girl I do not understand why you’re not just in a relationship with that man. He’s obviously in love with you.” She catches the juice from the press into a clean mason jar.
“Uh huh.” You’ve heard this before. From Renatta mostly. You separate the lemon mixture with a cheese cloth, squeezing the sugared rinds and lemon piths into a pitcher.
“Sorry, am I supposed to be keeping up with this friendship façade y’all have going? None of my business, I know. This,” she points to the folder, “Just seems a little extra.”
“Extra?!”
“Yeah, but thats okay, girl, you’re a little extra and that’s alright. It’s cute.”
“I’m extra?”
“Asks the woman sugaring lemon rinds for the man she’s not in love with. Okay, sure. You ever heard of Country Tyme Lemonade, Vin? Quick and easy, delicious lemonade in seconds. I know you got a can of it somewhere.”
“If you have a problem with the rinds, you’re really going to have a riot when I add the fresh Basil at the end.”
Renatta gives a full belly laugh and claps you on the shoulder.
“Hows work going by the way, Ren?”
“Oh you know, same old shit with Warren. Motherfucker has such a problem with me taking a Saturday off. He makes me so mad, you know he asked me to get him coffee the other day? Coffee. Said it like, ‘Renatta would you get me a coffee, hun. You know how I like it.’”
“Ew, you’re kidding.”
Renatta shakes her head. “He treats me like a paralegal, swear to God. I can’t wait till I start my own firm. You know I have fantasies about going against him in court? Long, detailed fantasies. Ohh I can’t wait till the day comes.”
“That’s right, Ren, take it out of the berries.”
Renatta pours the blackberry juice into the pitcher of lemon juice, the color swirls beautifully and you go to the freezer for your ice trays.
“Santiago was so cute when he showed up at the office to sign the papers. He was in a lil tucked-in button down, lookin like a ken doll.”
“Oh?”
“Mmmhmm, didn’t even read em, just signed on the dotted line…”
“Okay…”
“What’s his story by the way?”
You stir in the ice cubes “Why? are you interested?”
“Please. As much as you don’t like to hear it, that man is whipped for you and you alone.”
You nod noncommittally and add tap water to the pitcher.
“It’s just, as long as I’ve known you two, for what? over a year now? he’s been single. What’s his story.”
You turn off the tap and look up to your front yard where Santiago is pushing the mower in precise lines up and down your lawn and your heart surges with appreciation.
“He wasn’t always single.”
“Proceed.”
“Okay, counselor… haha, I feel like I’m being interrogated!”
Renatta narrows her eyes over pointed hands and says in a shitty Russian accent, “I have ways of making you talk.”
“It’s not some big secret or anything, I doubt he’d care if I told you… When Jay and I moved in,”
Her eyes go softer when you mention Jay’s name, the way that people’s eyes always go soft, like you might burst into tears at the lovelorn memories of your late husband. You turn to the cabinet to grab some glassware so you don’t have to endure it.
“When we moved in, Santiago was living with his girlfriend…. Fiancee, actually, after they came back from that trip to Hawaii, they were engaged… god that was so long ago.”
You pretend to debate on the glasses while you recount the tale.
“The four of us were really close actually. Game nights, sports events, double dates, you name it. Bee and I were close like Santi and Jay were, you know? Well you don’t know, but we were close, like, to the point we talked about combo-ing the backyards into a ‘super backyard’ with a huge pool and deck area,” you laugh at the thought. “It was never serious-serious plans but it was an ongoing thing… the four of us would tack on grander and more insane plans for the Super Backyard, like waterslides and a pizza oven, and… so dumb really… It was a few months before Jay passed, Santi and Bee had this big fight, I think the whole neighborhood heard it.”
You turn around with the glassware and set them on the counter in front of Renatta, she’s still giving you that soft eyed look but you think it’s not for your benefit this time. You pour her a glass of the purple lemonade and slide It over to her. She cups it in her hand but she doesn’t drink.
“And then?”
You glance behind you to make sure Santiago is safely out of earshot with his earmuffs on.
“Bee was pregnant. And… the baby wasn’t his.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, that’s tragic.”
“Oh it gets worse.”
“Girl…”
“She was cheating on him with his brother.”
“Fuuuuck.” Renatta lets go of the glass completely and cringes at the news.
“Yeah. He found out, or she told him, or her brother told him, I don’t know, he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
You glance over your shoulder again to make sure Santi is still in the yard, working diligently.
“Shit. Poor Santiago.” She stares out at him in the yard as well.
“Poor Santiago… Bee is married to him now, Santi’s brother. I got an invite to the wedding.” You cringe and Renatta’s jaw drops.
“Did you go?”
“Of course I didn’t go! I stopped being friends with her… I just couldn’t see her the same way.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“She reached out after Jay passed but I ignored her… I was ignoring a lot of people at that time though, you know? I do see all of Bee’s updates on facebook, the baby pictures, the family barbecues… Santi doesn’t talk to his family anymore, doesn’t go to the holidays, nothing. They all supported his brother, especially his parents who are just thrilled to have a grandchild.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah… don’t tell him I told you? Huh? I mean, I don’t think he’d care that you knew, it’s just—“
Renatta locks her lips with the tips of her fingers “Attorney/client confidentiality, Vin.”
“Thanks. Oh I almost forgot!” You snag a few leaves of basil from your windowsill herb garden and toss a sprig into each poured glass.
“Thank god you remembered.”
“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at her, taking a glass of lemonade outside to Santiago. He’s clipping the hedges at the front of your yard. Its fucking hot out and the sweat from his back sticks to his t-shirt in a wet v-shape. You gently press the icy glass to the back of his golden, sweat-beaded neck.
“Aaaahahahaa…” Santi smiles and leans into the cold glass as you gently caress his neck with the tinkling condensation.
“Feels good, right?”
“Mmmhmmm.” He turns his face toward you and you continue to press the glass against one cheek, then the other, booping his nose with it along the way.
“You keep doing that and all the ice is gonna melt.” The hedge clippers hang securely in his work-gloved hand and he smiles at you when you bring the glass up to his forehead, running it back and forth across his brow slowly, when he starts to raise his brow at you, you put the cup in his free hand.
He swirls the glass and purses his lips, “Basil?”
“Uh huh.”
“Hows the plant shelf coming along?”
You reflexively look back to the patio with the obviously unattempted pile of Not A Plant Shelf and when you look back at him Santiago is smirking.
You put your hands on your hips, “Drink your lemonade, Garcia.”
He obeys tilting the frosty glass to his mouth, the ice cubes having shrunk slightly. He hums in pleasure at the first sip, his shoulders sag and he licks his lips.
“Blackberry?”
“Yep.”
He takes another long gulp, nearly draining the glass. “From scratch too?”
“Of course, I know you hate Country Tyme.”
Santiago drains the glass and hands it back to you. “Thanks, Vin.”
“Renatta helped, too.”
“Renatta’s here?”
“Yeah she came by to drop off the copies of the uhhh… agreement.”
“Ah yes, the agreement. Well, I’ll be in soon to install that water filter, just finishing the hedges and then I gotta grab my tools.”
“I thought I told you I was going to do that!”
Santi tilts his sunglasses down at you, blinking comically at the pile of wood on the porch and then cocking his head dramatically in your direction before pushing them back into place.
You sigh. “Fine. I’ll be inside.”
——————————
Santiago is under your sink when he feels his boot being gently kicked.
“Vinny, I told you this was going to be a minute, if you need running water, you can go over to my place. The door is unlocked”
“Oh really, can I use your shower, Santiagooo?”
The voice doesn’t belong to you, it’s the voice of a man, pitched mockingly high in the poor imitation of a female voice. Santi slides out from under the sink, ungracefully smacking his head on the top of the cabinet in the process. Frankie doubles over in laughter as Santi rubs his head against his palm.
“Damn, Frank you scared the shit out of me.”
“Haha, not as scared as you’re going to be for your league punishment.”
Santi groans and hoists himself up, bracing on the counter and leaning back against it with folded arms. His left foot is asleep and his fucking knees are creaking with pain just like the top of his head. He taps his toe, partly to get the feeling back in his toe and partly in agitation of Fish and his jubilant smile.
“You come over here to what? Rub in your league stats?”
“Hermano, relax, I was in the neighborhood and returning your bandsaw, when I pulled up, Vin told me you were in the kitchen. She’s on the front porch building a birdhouse or something.”
“Plant shelf.” Santi mutters, rubbing his head.
“Didn’t look like any plant shelf I’ve ever seen.”
Santi chuckles. He can see it. You never were one for following directions. Hopefully you haven’t done any irreparable damage to the pieces before he can put it together himself.
“You need any help?” Fish nods to the sink and the opened box with the filtration components still wrapped in plastic.
“Yeah, yeah actually. I just gotta disconnect something down there and when I tell you, if you could snake this piece down that hole, that would save me some time.”
“You got it.”
Santi slowly lowers himself, hiding any expressions of discomfort or groans when his knees make contact with the kitchen tile. He hear fish take a seat at the barstool and some shuffling of papers.
“By the way, why are you all sweaty, Pope? I know it’s hot out, but damn.”
“Yardwork.”
“Of course.”
It’s not a great crescent wrench. He needs a new set entirely, his 8th in particular has seen so much action it’s probably a 7th at this point.
“What the…” Santi hears Frank mutter, hears the flip of a page. “Release all rights to… whaaaat?” Another flip of a page.
Somewhere in the back of Santi’s mind he realizes that Fish is reading the copy of the agreement he had signed at Renatta’s downtown office on Thursday.
Santi scurries once again out from under the sink and in his haste, smacks the same bit of his forehead on the cabinet.
“Fuck!” He yells. Rubbing his forehead, rising up in a fashion that he’s going to feel tomorrow morning, he lunges over the counter at Frankie, tearing the papers out of his hands, straightening the pages and shoving them back in the envelope.
Frankie opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you come bursting through the door.
“What happened?! I head you scream.”
“I didn’t scream, I yelled.”
“Yes, much more acceptable. Beg your pardon— oh shit your forehead!”
Pope grits his teeth, palm pressed to the pounding pain in his skull.
“I’m fine.”
But you’re not listening to him. Of course. When do you ever? You grab an ice pack from the freezer and wrap it in a clean hand towel and tug at his wrist gently.
“Move your hand.”
He winces when you press the ice pack to his forehead and you examine his eyes from beneath the wrapped cloth. You’re probably checking him for a concussion or something dramatic.
“It’s really not that—“
“Bad? Bullshit, Santi, I felt the whole porch shudder when you bonked your head… actually think you may have fucked up my plant shelf, with the quake… damn shame too, because it was going very well.”
Santi winces and snorts out a laugh.
“I’ll fix it.”
You nod at him with a smile, “Its really the least you could do. Might even need to call FEMA to step in.”
Santi covers your hand with his own, turning from you so that you let go of the ice pack.
“Thanks, Vin. Feeling better already.”
You stand somewhat awkwardly in your own kitchen, perhaps realizing you interrupted a moment between Frankie and himself.
You bend your thumb over your shoulder. “Well I’m going to asses the Richter damage and leave you to um, the hoses and things… and if you need any tylenol, they’re in my bathroom cabinet. The mirror on the uhh.. right.”
Santi and Frankie let a few moments of silence fall between them before Frankie whisper screams at him, “What the fuck?” Holding up the folder and tapping it for emphasis in case the head trauma gave Santiago amnesia.
“Don’t.” Santi snaps, lowering his head to rest on his forearms. That’s what you’re supposed to do right, lower the head? Or is that for nausea?
“I just found out you and Vin are having a baby, and you want me to what? Pretend like I don’t know that?”
The blood pumps viciously against his skull and Santiago remembers that lowering the head is indeed for nausea and he should keep the injured area elevated to prevent inflamation. He raises up, still gripping the towel-wrapped cold pack to what is sure to be a very attractive lump in the morning.
“If you could. Yeah.”
Frankie shakes his head incredulously, folding his arms and leaning back against the stool. “What are you doing, man?”
Santi shrugs his free shoulder. “Installing an osmosis filter.”
“Pope.”
“Don’t knock it till you try a glass. Supposed to be out of this world.” He mutters deadpan.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, no I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh this. The filter. The yard work. The fucking birdhouse.”
“Plant shelf.”
“Pope. Come on, man. Look at yourself.”
“The fuck are you saying?”
Its the heat, the heat is getting to him, the pounding in his head is getting to him, he has a good idea of what Frankie is implying and he wishes he would say it so he can flip his lid.
“You’ve been playing house with Vin for two years, hermano. Doing all this household shit, and that’s fine, but a baby? A baby that’s not even going to be yours? Dios, Pope. I mean this sincerely— are you okay? I get that what happened with Bee was fucked up, she broke your heart and then some, but fuck! It’s been a long time. I’ve tried to set you up, Rach has tried to set you up, get you back on the scene, but…. You’re acting like you’re Vin’s husband… with none of the perks, apparently!” He flicks the folder again, for emphasis.
Santiago silently counts to ten and levels his breathing, he can feel the way his hand shakes against his forehead and it takes everything inside him not to hurl the fucking thing at Frank.
“You put my bandsaw in my garage already?”
“Yeah, did it when I pulled up.”
“Good—
“But I can move it to Vin’s garage if you need me to. This stool is a little wobbly, could use some even-ing out.”
Santiago’s nostrils flare and he starts counting to ten in his head again.
Frank walks around the counter and claps his arm around Santiago. “Look, man. I know you got your own way of… shouldering the fucking world and I’m probably the last guy you wanna hear life advice from, considering…. But, you’ve always been there for me. Even when I was being a fucking asshole.”
Santiago sniffs stiffly and Fish gives his shoulder a pat before releasing him from the side-armed hug.
“I’m here if you want to talk, okay. I know its not your thing, but if you ever feel like it, I am here for you.”
Santi gives him a curt nod and turns to busy himself with unwrapping one of the filter components from the plastic.
“I think you were about to tell me to fuck off, so I’ll save you the oxygen.” Fish says with a smile and pats Santi’s turned back one more time before departing.
Santi drops the plastic wrapped filter and stands stalk-still in the kitchen, the ice pack isn’t cold anymore so he unwraps the cloth, tossing it into the hamper in the laundry room before putting the melted pack back in the freezer. The glass pitcher of lemonade is sweating on the counter and Santi grabs a glass and fills it to the brim, turning towards the planter box on the window sill, he plucks a piece of basil and garnishes the top of the drink with it before raising the icy glass to his forehead and sighing in relief.
--------------
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Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Masterlist
Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing; mentions of sexual situations Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. Song title from The One That You Love by LP Summary: You’d been working with Santiago in Colombia for nearly two years. You’d worked in intelligence while Pope was both in Delta Force; you’d crossed paths more than once, as you’d usually worked on the briefings that the team received. Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty
irresistible
pairing: nathan bateman x reader word count: 737 a/n: cs prompt challenge, week 4: “I want you to marry me.” ~ nathan makes a proposition you absolutely can refuse… right? | read on AO3 here~
It had been 6 months since you became an assistant to the infamous Nathan Bateman. At least the view at his home in the mountains was nice because you weren’t doing much assisting, more like standing around being an ear for him to talk off. Sometimes he wouldn’t even let you do your work, insisted you follow him around as he worked and tested your knowledge as well as making sure you were listening. It was exhausting. Not because you didn’t know most things he asked, but because the air of arrogance that followed his every waking moment too, was exhausting.
Keep reading
Aleksander Morozova x Sun Summoner!reader x Malyen Oretsev
WARNING(S): gore, blood, violence, angst, cussing, sexual content, one character from the books that has not yet been introduced in the show
SERIES SUMMARY: You have lived isolated from the outside world in a forest for a large portion of your life. One day, a mistake you made causes you to end up with the Darkling wounded in your cottage. Time passes as you both become closer while you nurse him back to health. When it is time for him to return to the Little Palace, you go with him, which puts you on the track for a new part of your life.
PLAYLIST
STATUS: complete
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The only time that I do describe the reader is with hair and last name, but that is because it is integral to how the story progresses. Furthermore, I was planning on reading the book series but decided to wait until I finish this story. Thus, what I know about the Grishaverse is based on selective research.
DISCLAIMER: NO ONE HAS ANY PERMISSION TO REPRODUCE MY WORK ON TUMBLR OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES IN ANY FORM OR FASHION. MY WORK CAN NOT BE PUBLISHED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSLATED EVEN IF CREDIT IS GIVEN. FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH THESE TERMS WILL RESULT IN INTERVENTION OR LEGAL ACTION.
spring/summer
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
autumn/winter
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
endings and mendings
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Half Of You (Part 1) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]
PART 2 HERE
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Talk of fertility, pregnancy. Reader's name is "Vin".
Summary: You're ready to be a mother, you enlist the help of your best friend.
A/N: Something that wouldn't leave my head, more parts to come.
![Half Of You (Part 1) [Santiago Garcia X Fem!Reader]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4b5be493550af28b2c3f37c6f5262855/8430d7a8c855d99e-21/s500x750/bbc4b09612fbacbe6fc57c0e04d4c08cc161d8da.gif)
Santi’s fork hangs in the air, where once his mouth was jovial and smiling, it is now…. Not that. He’s gaping at you and his wrist bends limply, letting the fingerling potato fall to his plate.
A tense silence falls between you.
“Well…?” You encourage, smiling and trying to maintain the lightheartedness of the previous ramblings.
“This—you— want me to—?” Santi chokes and drops his fork completely, choosing instead to gulp from his full glass of wine.
Well, his reaction isn’t unexpected.
You bend your head down and stare up at him through your lashes when he wipes his mouth and attempts to blink himself back into reality. God, maybe this was a bad idea, maybe this is asking way too much of him.
“You… want me to… be the father of your baby? Is that… is that right?’
You bite your bottom lip and nod effusively. “Yes.” You reiterate. “Well kinda. I don't want to get hung up on semantics here, but yeah, I want my kid to be…well, half you.”
Santiago shifts back in his seat and nods, now staring at you dubiously from the corner of one eye. You catch the server’s eye, headed towards your table and you give a vicious shake of the head, causing Maurice to turn heel back to his other tables. At least you won’t be bothered.
“Like I was saying earlier… I want a baby.”
“O—okay.”
“And I tried going to the fertility clinic…”
“Uh huh?”
“And—were you not listening AT ALL before?”
“No! I was!” Santiago’s defensiveness squeaks out like the halt of rubber on linoleum.
You blink at him repeatedly across the crisp white linen clothed table. “Because this is all seeming like brand new information to you when I say this.”
“I’m sorry okay, it’s just a lot to take in… go on. I’m re-absorbing.”
“Re-absorbing?”
“Yes. I’m allowed to re-absorb.”
You take a deep breath. “Alright, well, Mr. Brawny, I have come to the decision at this point in my life that I’d like a baby.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I didn’t like the idea of getting the… you know, DNA ‘donation' from a stranger.”
“Sure.” Santiago chugs his chalice of ice water and begins to chew on the dregs of cubes.
“And I want you to be the… DNA donor, so to speak.”
“DNA donor.”
“Well the term ‘father’ holds a ton of implications.”
“Doesn’t it.”
You fix him with a cocked stare.
“Sorry, Vin.”
“Like I said earlier, there’d be all kinds of forms and documents and such to keep this… copacetic.”
“Like you mumbled earlier, more like.” Santi murmers behind his wine glass.
You sit back in your chair and cross your arms.
“If you don’t want to do it, I’m not going to make you do it, Santi. We can forget this exchange ever happened as far as I’m concerned and I can just choose someone from the binder at the fertil—“
“No, no, I didn’t say that.” He holds both palms out wide in supplication before lowering them uneasily to the tablecloth.
“Everything alright over here?” Maurice pops in at the wrong fucking moment causing you to shut your eyes completely. What part of the head shake did he not understand?
“Yes, it’s going very well, can you please just give us a few minutes?”
“Certainly. I just wanted to remind you both that the kitchen has a time limit one when we can start your dessert, so if you were thinking about anything on the menu, just give me a wave, alright?”
“That’s fine, Maurice, thank you.” You smile warmly at him. Maurice bows out and you pinch the bridge of your nose.
“So… you don’t wan’t me involved at all? You just want, what? My DNA?”
You toss the accusation around in your head for a minute before admitting, “Yes.”
Santiago nods and braces his feet against the carpeted floor once again, regaining strength and alertness. He starts and then stops again many times before settling on the classic question of, “why me?”
Its a fair question, a good question. Why? Why out of all the potential candidates, the binders full of Ivy Leage Doctors, professional athletes, men over 6 feet tall without commitment issues, why it is… Santi… Santi that you want to be the father of your child? It is crazy on paper. Something that doesn’t add up in any column, in any statistic. You don’t know why yourself, let alone how you can answer his inquiry… but you try.
“It just felt so… impersonal, you know? You sit down in this doctor’s office and you’re expected to pick out the father of your child from this, this, this… magazine? Without any photos. Like, yes, contestant 565B was captain of the debate team at Yale—“
“Yale?”
“Yeah.”
“Well you should definitely go for that guy.”
You bite the insides of your cheeks and look down.
“But I don’t want that guy.”
Santi grits his teeth and swallows.
“I just… I don’t know that guy, and he sounds like a real dick on paper, you know… he sounds…. depthless, shallow. Like he’s got nothing underneath or behind him. Does that make sense to you at all? That’s not how I want the father of my child to be… I want him to be real… and the more I flipped through that binder and the further I got through those pages, I realized that I needed someone real. Someone I know, someone I trust…”
“And you thought of me?”
“Who else?”
“Why not Fish?”
“Fish? Are you serious? Seriously serious? Or are you just fucking with me?”
“I’m mostly serious.”
You stare at Santi for a long incredulous moment waiting for him to crack that tell-tale smile of his in jest. But he doesn’t. His eyes are wide and bright and his mouth is forced into something placating and neutral.
“Pope!”
“What?!” He cries out defensively. You only ever call him Pope when you’re angry.
“Decided on dessert, have we?” Maurice pops in, scaring you have to death.
“No!” Both you and Santiago nearly shout at Maurice.
“No, thank you, just… just the bill.” You smooth your blouse down and wipe your eyes with your palms. Fuck, this maybe wasn’t the best place to carry out this conversation. You thought it would be a nice gesture, to take Santi out… for some deluded reason, you had imagined it going much smoother than this.
Maurice scurries off and you and Santiago are left staring at each other over half-finished meals.
You take a deep breath. “If I wanted Fish or the Millers or fucking Redfly, I would have asked them out to dinner. Not you.”
“Why me and not them?”
“Are you kidding me? Your’e my best friend. You… you do know that, don’t you?”
Santiago nods softly.
“Fuck, Santi, I don’t want that to, you know, sway your decision or anything. Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you should be, I don’t know, indebted to me. You don’t owe me this. This is big.”
“Redfly went to Princeton, you know?”
“Shut up.”
“It’s true.”
“He never went to Princeton!”
“That what he says.”
“On a walking tour, maybe!”
Santi’s eyes crinkle with laughter.
“You trying to get me to have Redfly’s kid or something? Would that be… would you rather I ask him?”
Santi inhales deeply and drags a palm down his rough stubble and shakes his head silently at you. “You’re right.”
“Pardon?”
Santi’s eyes scan the room, the way he does when he’s nervous. “If you’re determined to have a…”
“A? Baby, say it with me. Bay-bee”
“Shut up. A baby, a little person.”
“Uh huh…?”
“And if it needs to be from someone you know?”
“Yeah, it does, I know, it’s weird that its so important to me, but—“
“It should be me, then. You’re right.” Santi leans forward in his chair, retrieving his fork and takes a bite of his potatoes.
“Yeah? Are you saying yes?”
Santi nods at you with a full mouth and without thinking you wipe a bit of orange sauce from the corner of his mouth with your thumb.
“Don’t do that!” He admonishes with a mouth full of potato.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You quip back with a laugh.
He swallows, “Yes, mom.”
For some reason, it makes your face hot when he says it and luckily Maurice comes at that moment, placing the leather bound check between you and Santi.
Santiago reaches for the little folder and you swat his hand away.
“No way! I invited you out, my treat.”
He lifts his hands away in apology, “Just being a gentleman.”
You grab your card from your purse, fitting it into the folder using the item to gesture towards Santi’s lap. “Well, I’m asking for your… DNA, the least I could do was buy you a steak first, huh.”
Santi glides his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. “So, how are we going to do this, exactly… are we starting? tonight?”
“Tonight? It’s almost 9 o’clock. What kind of vampire hours do you think the fertility clinic keeps, Garcia?” You laugh and take a sip of wine. Santi scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head.
“Yeah, wasn’t thinking.”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Oh my god, Santiago. You thought—!”
“Stop.”
“You really thought—“ You cover your eyes in embarrassment, “I was asking you to, what? Knock me up? Like this whole time you thought I was asking you to fuck me!?” And thats when Maurice comes by to take the folder (“I’ll be right back with this”)
“Jesus, that guy has the worst timing, right?”
“Santi!”
“Well, kinda?”
You scream softly into your palm and kick his shoe under the table. God this is humiliating. The poor guy, no wonder he had been looking at you like that. Jesus.
“No, Santi, no.”
He shrugs wildly, “I’m sorry? I just assumed. Sorry.”
“No, you’re fine.” You laugh. “The process is a little more… effective than… that.”
“I dunno, Vin, I think I could knock it out in one try.” Santi leans back in his chair, propping up a hand on his hip. The gesture subtly confident and thoroughly suggestive, causing your face to burn once again.
“Shut up!”
“Oh I’m going to get in all the jokes I can out of this.”
“Do you want to know where the babies come from or not?”
Once agin Maurice swoops in to deposit your check on the table. Christ only knows what he’s made out of the pieces of your conversation he’s overheard throughout the evening, “Here’s your receipt and I hope you two have a lovely evening.”
“Thank you.” You mutter, opening up the receipt to sign.
“Thank you, Maurice. Everything was great. I think I’ve seen something like it in movies? I go to the clinic, jerk off in a cup?”
“You couldn’t have waited to say that till he was out of earshot?”
“Oh please, give the poor guy something to talk with the back of house about.”
You laugh wholeheartedly. “Yeah, you jerk off in a cup. And then you sign away the parental rights to the cup.”
Santi scratches his chin and nods. “And they just… “
“Just? What?”
“Turkey baster it into you or—?”
“Turkey baster it into me?? Huh, you know, I wonder if that Yale guy’s sperm is still available…”
“Okay so what do they do? Tell me.”
For all his teasing, his moments of sincerity bowl you like a strike down a lane, and in this moment where his eyes are so earnest on yours, you’re reminded of why you chose this person to be the father of your future child.
“There are a couple of ways to do it. The first attempt would be something called IUI where I take a medication that makes me ovulate and then they’d take your sperm and sort of inject it into my uterus.”
“How is that different than a turkey baster?”
“I guess you’re kind of right?” You laugh, “It’s pretty similar.”
“So they do that once and boom you’re pregnant?”
“Uh, no, they do that for 3-5 sessions and if that doesn’t work then I’d do IVF.”
“That one sounds familiar… what is it?”
“They take your sperm and my eggs and make viable embryos and implant them into my uterus.”
“Multiple?”
“Well some don’t take, most don’t take, so they do a few at a time.”
“Okay.”
“And it might not work on the first few tries on that one either, so there is the possibility you’d need to do more than one self-love session at the clinic before all is said and done.”
“Uh huh.”
“Yep.”
“Or…” Santi lilts off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggerated seduction.
“Don’t even—”
“I’ve got a more cost effective option for you to consider.”
You cross your arms and shake your head, but you can’t help your goofy grin.
“A bottle of wine and some Barry White.”
“Pope!” You laugh and toss your napkin at his chest. It’s exactly his sense of humor and you’re so relieved that he’s taken this well, that he’s agreed to do this and most importantly, that you’re friendship has emerged from this request of yours intact.
Santi wipes his mouth and stands, offering you an arm. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Ice cream?”
“Absolutely.”
“Handels?”
“Duh.”
You make your way out of the restaurant, arm in arm with Santiago.
“Goodnight, Maurice!” Santi calls over his shoulder. You punch him softly on the chest.
“You loved torturing him!”
“I wouldn’t say that… but the opportunity to say the phrase ‘jerk off in a cup’ rarely presents itself in a fine dining setting and I enjoyed the experience.”
“You watch your mouth or you won’t be getting any ice cream.”
“You’re scary good at that already.”
“Gotta practice the mom voice, it’s one of the most important parts of the job.”
“You’re going to be great at it, you know.”
You let the compliment hang there, still arm in arm, stepping in unison to Handel’s Creamery.
“Yeah. I know… And thank you.”
Santi squeezes your arm tighter in his, warmly, reassuringly. He’d make a good dad too, you think. But you don’t tell him that, instead you debate over ice cream flavors all the way down 3rd street.
Ari x Reader: but honestly baby, who's counting? (1, 2, 3) [One Shot]
![Ari X Reader: But Honestly Baby, Who's Counting? (1, 2, 3) [One Shot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6e69fd99259049c2342ffd29c8bbc11e/55df17bc8042fd1c-50/s500x750/8f1b280562655b7c6ce845db1ecc2f90042d01be.png)
Plot: Sometimes, you get everything you want by asking nicely.
or, the one where you are drunk and you might've slept with the owner of the hottest club in the city.
Tags: smut, 18+, bar owner! ari, spitting, p in v, some fluff, brief dom/sub, slight dumbification, sex while both drunk, wrap it before you tap it kids, alcohol, beeg ari (faintly mentioned), oral, corn with plot, MINORS DNI [A/N: This shit has not been edited yet so read at your own risk!]
[One]
“And who’er you?”
The entire room was blurry like the world spun and spun and then suddenly stopped but the fluids in your brain still sloshed around like a whirlpool, leaving you all confused, dizzy, and a bit giggly at the smallest bit of everything.
But one thing was for sure: the man in front of you was beautiful and unfairly hot.
“...ri.”
You blinked hard, unaware you had tuned out the man’s words in favor of staring at him like a lovesick fool.
“Ri-ri!” you blurted out, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment of being found out that you weren’t listening to him but he just chuckled – the deep, baritone type that traveled to the table you both shared.
You shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, cocking his head and smirking when you followed the direction of it in your quest to somehow figure out what made this man so enticing.
“You wanna warm me up, Riri?”
You weren’t usually this forward. Heck, the only reason you were in this “indie, hip, 80’s” (their words not yours) inspired dive bar was because your workmates dragged you around the city like a tourist.
Well, you might as well be considering you didn't really go out much in the 2 years you had made it your home.
What you didn’t expect was to actually rope some character from Top Gun in a conversation, or for him to smile at you like that till you were visibly swooning.
He was … big. Sitting down he towered over you, protecting you from the blazing disco light behind him. He had shoulder-length hair you wanted to pull and a beard you wanted to ri –
“I don’t see you here often.”
“Well,” you cleared your throat, leaning your hands on your palms as you looked up at him. “I don't go out often.”
He pursed his lips as if holding back laughter. He opened his mouth to seemingly try to have another decent conversation but you were way ahead of him.
“Will you have sex with me, please?”
You saw his entire body tighten for a second before his expression turned dark, looking you up and down till you were squirming in your seat.
“You’re drunk.”
“And so are you,” you insisted, nearly stomping your heels on the ground in protest. “I also have an apartment nearby.”
He laughed. Taking his glass full of dark liquid before emptying it in one gulp. “Is this your game, sweetheart?”
You giggled up at him as if he said something silly but you hiccuped in surprise when he slammed the glass back on the wooden surface.
“Cause if he so,” he stood up and made you gasp as he rounded to your side of the table, eyes falling down to the unmistakable bulge on his pants that, due to his imposing height, fell perfectly on your line of sight as you looked up at him.
You may have bitten more than you can chew. Or suck – depending on how this night goes.
“I’ll play.”
![Ari X Reader: But Honestly Baby, Who's Counting? (1, 2, 3) [One Shot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/83f1af8e44e91f664a0641ef24bb71cc/55df17bc8042fd1c-89/s500x750/a952733ce73494afec77ea314933590378115a94.png)
You could feel yourself going cross-eyed, your mouth hanging open and letting out pathetic short moans. Every time you feel your hips falling down from exhaustion his hands hooked right below it and pulled you right back into his punishing thrusts.
“So good, so good,” you moan, your limbs shaking when he lewdly licked and nibbled on your ear. Your voice was raspy from your dry throat as you doubt your lips were frozen in position as you did but nothing but moan on his cock for the past twenty minutes.
He seemed to have noticed your minute pain and had the perfect remedy – a firm thumb on your chin to angle your open mouth perfectly to spit on.
The act was so dirty and yet so lewd that your brain short-circuited whether you should be disgusted, embarrassed, or turned on. He decided for you – slipping his tongue into yours and having you suck on it, the taste of rich, deep alcohol and a hint of smoke and mint clouding more and more of your mind.
“Yeah?” he whispered, his damp hair falling over your face, as he pressed a kiss on the edge of your lips. “You liked getting fucked, baby? Hmm? Like it when shady men from dirty bars fuck you stupid?”
You nodded, sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure that had you feeling him deep in your guts.
“Gonna cum,” you cried. “Gonna cum, Riri!”
“Can't even get my fucking name right but you're already too willing to drool over my cock,” he grunted. Suddenly, he pulled you two upright, leaning on your headboard and forcing you to sit on his cock, and making you scream.
Despite being on top he hooked your legs over his arms as he thrust up at you, his teeth now nipping on the crook of your neck as you lay your head over his shoulders. The lewd position made you feel too bare, you would've been embarassed if not for his cock bullying its way into your cervix and making you lose any coherent train of thought.
“Cumming! I’m cumming!” you screamed over what could only be the pounding on the wall from your neighbor. But the thought was quickly blacked out by euphoria as you finally came and squirt all over his lap, falling limply into his thrusts that only doubled in speed and intensity until he too growled in pleasure as he drowned you from the inside.
“Shit,” he muttered, kissing one last hickey on your neck before capturing your lips in a delirious kiss. “That pussy better be protected cause I’m not tryna be a daddy just yet.”
You were about to tell him that you were, in fact, taking birth controls but you could only yelp when he suddenly slapped the inside of your thighs.
“Time to clean up, baby.”
Confused, you let him manhandle your body until you were kneeling in from his surprisingly hard cock. You gulped, eyes tracing over his drenched rod, “Y-You’re still hard.”
“And you can't leave me like that, can't you, sweetheart?” he cooed, hooking a stray hair behind your ears as you kissed up his length, the taste of him and you had your thighs rubbing against each other.
“N-No,” you pouted, finally reaching his tip, his thumb pressing on your chin to guide you down. “I want to take care of it.”
“Well,” he smirked, eyes now above your head as he stared at the mirror on the wall by your bed, perfectly framing your dripping heat. “Aren't you just the sweetest?”
The next morning you woke up in damp sheets and a card by the pillow.
See u at the bar. -Ari
“Oh,” you winced, hiding your burning face under your arms. “Ari.”
As much as you wanted to go back and drown in wild, hot sex with an equally hot and wild man you had gone out on a Sunday and had work the very next morning. Your legs had gotten so weak and jiggly from your encounter you doubt you would survive a consecutive night with that man.
You were lucky your head didn't burst from the amount of shrieking from your girlfriends when they had found out what happened and the amount of scolding from your manager when you were late for your shift.
“I can’t believe you fucked Ari Levinson! THE Ari Levinson! How’d you do it?” Wanda had moved her chair in front of your table and while Nat decided to stay in her own cubicle, you still had her full attention.
“I …” your entire body heat up when you finally recalled the moments before you had taken him home.
“Will you have sex with me, please?”
“I asked … nicely.”
The two of them looked at you incredulously.
“You asked?! That’s it!?”
You opened your mouth to explain but your shyness finally overtook you so you just nodded.
The two of them seemed to wait for more explanation but realized you don't have one.
“Do you know how many women would kill you if you told them what you just told us?”
You shook your head.
“Unbelievable,” Natasha remarked, shaking her head and giggling to herself.
“Well,” Wanda continued, patting your shoulder. “I, for one, am very proud of you.”
You gave her a smile as she left with a thumbs up.
“I should ask Steve nicely if he’d let me peg him.”
“Natasha!”
[Two]
If someone asked you, you would say you probably lost your mind. What you know for sure is you don’t know what you were doing here.
What if he was being nice? What if that was just common courtesy among his one-night stands? What if he laughed at your face when you tell him you went here for him?
You could already feel yourself chicken out but before you could take one step forward or back a rough hand tapped on your shoulders.
“Miss?”
A guy that was twice your size and tattooed from his arms up to his face looked down at you.
“Y-Yes? I have my ID with me he –”
He held up a hand to stop you. “Mr.Levinson told me to let you in the back.”
Thank God, Wanda had been screaming in your ear about his full name that you managed to recognize it.
“A-Ari did?”
Instead of answering he just cocked his head and started walking, giving you no choice but to follow him. This entrance, albeit hidden and behind a roped door that had “Keep Out” written all over its length, was more clean and fancy.
On one side compromised a blank velvet wall and the other was littered with an array of doors that led into dimly-lit rooms. From what you could see it seemed to be private lounges for the VIPs.
“John? Who’s that?” a perky voice caught both your attention – it was a long-legged blonde woman that wore a gold mini dress that was basically tattoed on her perfect body. You couldn't help but feel underdressed in your skirt and sleeveless shirt.
“It’s Mr. Levinson’s guest,” he answered professionally though the beautiful woman raised a sharp eyebrow at the words. Her stare made you cower.
“Huh,” she looked at you up and down then threw her perfectly straightened hair over her shoulders. “He must be fucking bored then.”
The words hurt but as she trotted away and through the door you went in from you could see John roll his eyes and sigh. She must be like that to everyone.
Using his palm, John guided you into another door where louder music was barely muffled.
“Here you are, miss,” he unhooked another fancy rope for you and gave you a smile. Audibly gulping, you steeled your will before going through the curtain where most of the noise was coming from.
You squinted, the bright moving red light blinding you for a split second – enough time for the dancing crowd to swallow you whole.
Your painful yelps and panicked breathing were drowned out by their cheers and screams, too drunk off the booze and loud song from the speakers to notice your panic attack was about to start.
Just as you were about to tip off the edge, a hand yanks you out of the ground and into a warm, sturdy chest.
“There you are, sweetheart.”
“Ari.”
He leaned in for a kiss, guiding your arms around his neck before he gave you a blinding smile and pushed off a drunkard away from you. He was effortlessly moving around the crowd with you protected behind him so he can put you in a booth on the second floor, overlooking the dancing crowd.
“I was just about to drag you out of your apartment if you had made me wait a day longer.”
“I-I was –” you were cut off when he sat down, placing you right in his lap as he leaned back on the fancy red sofa with his arm stretched out. “... I had work.”
“Ah,” he leaned in, closing in their proximity as he reached for a drink on the table behind you. “Jobs – forgot about that.”
He took a drink from his glass, making you swallow with him before you forcibly tore your eyes away from his adam’s apple. “Is this … your job then?”
“Kinda,” he answered, letting his eyes run on the club behind you. “I own it but I do serve drinks here when I’m bored.”
Your eyes widened. “You own it?”
That must have been why Wanda was losing her mind over you sleeping with him.
He shrugged like it was nothing. “Enough about this talk about work.”
You still found it difficult to process that you were sitting in the owner’s lap but you tried to shake yourself out of it. Why were you freaking out, if that woman’s word was true then you better than to expect anything serious about this and you were fine with that …. you think. “What do you wanna talk about?”
“About what’s a man gotta do to get a kiss?”
You pursed your lips trying not to smile as your heart followed the exploding beat of the music, the rough pads of his hand now running up your spine as he gently pushed you closer and closer to him. “Have you tried saying 'please'? Always worked for me.”
You were on the floor.
And you should be disgusted.
But the man with you seemed to have a magical power that separates your brain from your body and makes you think through your pussy as he pounded behind it.
“God this fucking ass,” you yelped when he smacked it, but despite the initial pain you still wiggled into his bruising thrusts desperately.
This time you didn’t have to worry about meeting your neighbor's eyes the next morning as Ari had brought you into his own apartment. Well, apartment is quite an understatement as he basically owned the entire floor. The view even from the floor where you were currently getting fucked within an inch of your life was still beautiful despite it getting hazy from your tears.
“Oh baby, don’t cry,” he cooed, though his sweet statement was contrasted with a harsh bite on your shoulders. As if grounding you as he cruelly doubled the speed of his thrusts until you were only screaming his name. “You look too pretty when you cry. And you know I can't control myself that well.”
His hand sneaked in the length of your body, teasing your stomach and then finally reaching your clit and applying enough pressure to help your each your peak. Any strength in your arms left as you squirted into his cock, giving him the perfect angle to fuck you stupid until he himself pulled out and came in your back.
The warm spunk dripped on the length of your back and the faint snap of the camera was something that should've alarmed you but you knew him enough to be quite possessive so you doubted it was something he would spread around. And honestly, you were too tired to care.
“Riri,” you sobbed but he shushed you, pushing a set of pillows on your stomach so you were in a more comfortable position. “‘M sensitive.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he hummed, and yet his hands gripped the globes of your ass and spread it out, baring your pounding core to him. “But I need just one more taste. Or two.”
When you woke up, Ari was surprisingly kind, gentle, and sweet – the exact opposite of the beast who basically chewed on your pussy until you passed out.
“What are you pouting about?” he asked as he pushed another sweet pastry on your mouth. When you had woken up he was already arranging the food he had gotten delivered from a cafe nearby and had the nerve to give you the charming smile that had you and your pussy enarly forgiving him on the spot.
“My …” you swallowed, glaring at the cocky expression on his face. “I’m sore.”
He hummed nonchalantly making you slap his chest, “Alright, no need to get violent! I promise i’ll be nicer next time.”
Next time?
“There’ll be a next time?”
He turned to you, confused at first but then he smirked. This time he stabbed the last piece of the pastry and fed it to you, swiping the excess cream on the edge of your lips and sucking it into his mouth.
“There’ll be a lot of next time, sweetheart.”
[Three]
“I’m just so confused!”
You were venting about your complicated and confusing relationship with Ari to Wanda and Nat.
He was sweet and caring and fucks you like an animal but … there was no label. And you were too scared to lose the one good thing you have going on in your desperation to have some stupid title.
“What if he is not a relationship guy? What if this was just for fun and I’m gonna end up looking stupid? I mean … ‘m okay with what we have right now but I just want to know where I officially stand and he’s just not …. fucking bored and looking for some regular pussy.”
Of all times, the sharp words of that night returned to you now.
“Well, it's not like he doesn't have a line of pussies waiting for him outside his bar so we can cross that reason out –”
“Wanda!” you shrieked, glaring at her as she smirked. “Not helping.”
She raised her hand in surrender. Nat was surprisingly quiet and when you turned to her she had a guilty look written all over her face.
“What?”
“I have a confession to make.”
You could feel your blood turn cold.
“Nat …”
“Listen, this will sound bad –”
“Natasha!”
“But, it’s killing me not to tell when you’re clearly going crazy over this!”
You playfully pretended to punch her so she will hurry up and tell you her big secret that so clearly includes you, “Alright, alright!”
“So,” she cleared her throat. “Ari may or may not have seen you on the back of my car when I was dropping off something at Steve's and he may or may not have bribed me that if I somehow dragged you into his club and get the two of you to meet then he would give me unlimited access to his bar for my entire life if it works.”
She spoke quickly but she wasn’t quick enough to not let her words sink in.
“What?!”
“What, I didn't know this!” Wanda protested with you.
“Listen! He said he was interested and I threatened him, The Godfather style, that I don’t want him playing games with you unless he was really sure and after the two of you first fu –”
You glared at her.
“--hung out, he immediately gave me the pass to the bar so I knew he liked you but it’s not like I can tell you that!”
“What that you sold me like a trading card?”
“Well … in my defense, it did work out! And now you're sure he actually likes you!”
You opened your mouth to make an argument but … she was right. Suddenly, your phone dinged in your pocket.
‘I’m picking you up.’
You couldn't help the small smile to grow on your face.
‘So bossy, i’ll get a cab there i’m in your accomplice’s apartment. Hope I was worth a lifetime’s worth of alcohol.’
Immediately, a reply went through.
‘Shit. I’ll explain at home.’
The word home made your insides flutter but before you could giggle like a schoolgirl you realized your two friends were currently looking at you in shock.
“Oh, this is bad.”
“Shut up! And you, you’re still on thin ice!”
“Come on!”
“Aah! Ari, right there, right there!”
You don't know what happened. You were sure you were gonna play up the card you had found and at least try to act coy for a bit. But before you knew it, you were already here, splayed out on Ari’s breakfast bar and getting eaten out like his last meal.
Ari grunted, gripping the hands on his hair until you let go. Your legs were hooked on his shoulders and when he suddenly stood up, you had no choice but to be half-hanging off of him as he bent you down and nearly split you open for his viewing pleasure.
“You drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”
“I -*hic* – I didn't do anything!” you whined, protesting from the lewd position he put you in.
“Oh, I’m not talking to you sweetheart,” he cooed, pressing a finger into your mouth so you could suckle on it in comfort. “I’m talking to this pretty pussy that got me fucking whipped.”
You moaned from his dirty words.
“Now,” you tried to scream when he suddenly slapped your center with his heavy hands, the force enough to make you squirt out, body nearly bending off the surface if he wasn't there to ground you back with his unmoving body that got wetter and wetter by the second.
He seemed pleased at your reaction.
“I believe my little sweetheart and her cute litte pussy deserve a better apology from me.”
“It wasn’t my intention to lie to you, y’know”
If you were being honest you really weren't mad anymore. It’s not like they made a fool out of you for a tasteless prank. But it was still better to get things straightened out.
He was laying on your stomach, his fingers tracing invisible paths on your body as you played with his hair.
“It’s just … I have a reputation,” you didn't even try to deny it. If you had known who he was at the beginning you doubt you wouldn’t have given him a chance. It was based on pure luck of you being drunk enough to be brave and him approaching you at the right time that had you where you are now. “And, you were so shy and jumpy that I knew better than to use the same old lines and charm on you like I usually do.”
“Aww,” you cooed, gripping his long hair gently to make you look up at him. “You had a crush on me.”
“Shut up, I still remember you passing out from –”
“Alright! I’m sensitive, okay?!” you tried to defend yourself but you only fell into fits of laughter when he pressed harsh kisses on your stomach, his beard rubbing it raw until he was now hovering over you.
Sometimes you forget just how easily you get to disappear in his arms.
“So you like me?” you asked coyly, hands rubbing up the coarse hair on his chest, but he quickly nudged your nose with his so you looked him in the eyes.
“I like you. A lot,” you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable, not used to being open and raw like this. But you were thankful. “Think you’d wanna be my girl?”
“Hmm,” you pretended about it but you were already laughing with him as he pressed gentle kisses all over your face as if to convince you.
“Only if you ask nicely.”
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• she/her/hers • 20 • woc• fictional men>>>>> • barely holding on:) •
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