Submissive Streamer

How would the OI characters react if the reader accidentally called them "husband" and was embarrassed after she realized her mistake?

This is so cute, oh my gosh! <3 Thank you so much for sending it!

OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons

Steven: Absolutely giddy with joy! Yes, he is your husband. 100% heart eyes from him, he’ll grab your hand and squeeze it and smile. If you’re around other people he will call you ‘his wife’ straight away playfully and give you a sweet kiss on your cheek. 

Marc: Bless this man, he freezes. Error screen across his eyes and frantically inwardly asking Steven and Jake if they got married before he realises he’s being silly.

Jake: Without missing a beat, will ask, “Where is my ring?” And then will tease you about it playfully for ages until you're laughing.

Nathan: This idiot doesn’t even notice. You think, at first, it’s because he’s not paying attention. But when he sees you’re embarrassed he’s like, “why? What wrong? Why’s that bothering you? I basically am?”

Anselm: It doesn’t matter where you are because Anselm’s going down on you there and then.

Cecil: If he’s high it takes him a good fifteen minutes to register what you said. 

Club!Blue: He’s (unsurprisingly) a little shit about it. “Oh, you like me that much do you? You want to marry me?” Will smugly tell everyone. “They want to marry me.” 

Orderly!Blue: He’s going to tease you until you cry, I’m so sorry. (He’s then going to fuck your brains out).

Jack: Do NOT say this unless you want to end up tied up in his trailer.

Santiago: Will joke with you about it, “Oh, calling me that because I nag you too much, huh?” Is secretly very pleased, but doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed. 

Shimmer!Kane: Doesn’t quite get the implication, but he doesn’t like seeing you upset/embarrassed. Will give you a hug.

King John: Similar to Club!Blue, he’s going to be telling everyone and preening about it.

Rydal: Surprisingly gets all shy and blushes. 

Laurent: He’s already got the ring in his back pocket.

Poe: Giggles about it in a very ‘oh my gosh, hee hee hee, do you like me?’ way, even if you have been together for years.

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TITTIES IN CROP TOP W NO BRA

TITTIES IN CROP TOP W NO BRA

TITTIES IN CROP TOP W NO BRA

TITTIES IN CROP TOP W NO BRA

TITTIES IN CROP TOP W NO BRA

Literally every profile I've seen on my browse page is like this😭 I LOVE it

truly nothing more magical than finding a good fic and then going to their profile and finding out there’s a whole goldmine in there of fics just begging to be read. what a beautiful world we live in.

Fat girls are hot.

You agree. Reblog.

Me finally controlling my feed to show viktor fics

have you ever tried this one?

and it’s just you ontop of viktor

look, i’m not saying he hasn’t fucked (look at him, he has had partners before but never like you, never someone who puts his pleasure before their own) so when you slide a pillow beneath his hips and make sure he is comfy over everything else, oh how his heart stutters in his chest. Viktor already looks at you like you hold the universe in your hands but as you perch yourself above him, hands braced on either side of his head as you grind your sopping cunt over his cock before sinking down on his aching length, he swears you begin to fade into starlight. the edges of his vision blurs as heat blooms in his stomach, pure indulgent undiluted ecstasy fills his veins and tingles in the tips of his fingers. mans is TRANSFIXED on the sight before him as your hips begin to move, slick dripping down your thighs in pearls of opalescent blue in the lowlight of the hexcore (the cot that had been set up in the corner of the lab for when he is too tired to go back to his room has been getting a little more action that it had originally been intended for) Viktor has no idea where to put his hands, what to grab or how hard to hold so you guide his hands to your hips, squeezing his fingers beneath your own before settling your palms on his chest. his heart thumps beneath your skin in a steady rhythm, his breaths shallow as his body adjusts to pleasure coursing through his veins.

“are you okay? nothing hurts?” you’re quick to check in, brows furrowed as your eyes slip down the pillow beneath his hips.

he nods, pushing his head back into the plush cushions as you tense your muscles, squeezing him so deliciously tight he might pass out.

“don’t worry about me, love. just-“ words fail him as his breathing turns ragged, your hips grinding in slow circles above his. “fuck…i-“

Viktor has always been quick of wit, a retort poised on the tip of his tongue at all times but as you begin to drag your hips up and down, cunt sliding over his pulsing cock in slow strokes that has his jaw slackening and eyes rolling, the concept of language leaves him entirely. for a moment it’s as if it is his first time all over again. awkward hands and quick breaths, unable to tear his eyes away from your perfect form as you bounce and grind above him. it’s cute, how innocent he looks beneath you, how bright his cheeks blaze, how red his lips bloom as he bites on the flesh.

“you’ve never done this?” your question is breathless, cheat tightening as the angle has your stomach twisting.

Viktor shakes his head, afraid that if he opens his mouth it would be nothing but whimpers and moans.

“do you feel good?”

another wordless answer in the form of a nod and he thinks he has retained some sense of dignity for the time being, but as you tense your muscles again, his mouth opens and his answer is a whimper.

your body stills above him as your brain registers the sound that has just spilt from your lover’s mouth.

“did you just- was that-?”

“shut up. This is a new thing for me,” Viktor grumbles but he can’t stop the grin that has spread over his cheeks. his hand reaches for your, wrapping around the nape of your neck to pull your face to his. “no one’s ever treated me like this. I can’t expect to know how I might react.”

a/n: pls be nice this is my first arcane fic i just love viktor so much gimmie a hair tie, a pillow for his hips and five minutes i’ll show piltover the real arcane

subby romey getting overstimmed,,? in a nice way? 🫠

of course nice. we’re all nice here, right? looks around the room

Roman is a crybaby. Hey, to an extent, he deserves to be, and it kind of validates you, because he’s not uninterested in making you cry about half of the time. But he’s also mean, so mean, and he takes your kindness like a snippy dog at first.

It’d start off with him burying his face in your hair. You’re jerking him off on the couch as Truly, Madly, Deeply plays. What? It’s romcom night! He’s not really watching anyways, he’s got his eyes closed and his pants pulled down to his mid-thigh, still dressed in his work clothes aside from the shoes he’d kicked off as soon as he walked through the door. He’d make little whines and mumble stuff and slowly stutter his hips up to fuck your hand in return. he tries to imagine it’s your hole — any of ‘em, really.

“Thank you, baby, good job, taking over like that,” you encourage when he slams his hips in a nice little rhythm that still stutters and falters, but it’s almost like he thinks he’s fucking you. He cums like he is, with a quick, “oh ff-fuck,” mere seconds before he creams your hand, pulling back to make sure your palm catches it as it spurts out the tip. It drips down his dick and onto his balls, but at least it didn’t hit your face or his shirt. He thanks god his instincts saved him some minor embarrassment.

But your hand doesn’t stop. you keep on keepin’ on, even as he softens. He squirms, and jolts when you lean to cup his balls.

“Fuck you, what am I, your joystick?” he whines as you massage his sack and jerk his cock.

“Just one more. I barely got to enjoy it the first time, you came so quick.” He moans at that, thighs clenching.

“Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, kissing down your neck to your collarbone. It’s more for him than you, really. He likes your taste, breathes deeply in shaky, sharp breaths. He sounds like he’s getting hurt, like someone just knocked the breath from his lungs. He softens, a little more than you like. You straddle him.

“What do you want,” you say it as a soft demand. It’s less of a question. “Speak, use your big boy words.” It’s like you’re talking to a dog — a very beloved dog, one you let sleep at the end of your bed.

“In the whole world, or—?”

“You know.”

“This’n,” he slips his hands under your skirt. Feels around, finds your pussy lips, pulls them apart at the front through your panties. His eyes can’t see through fabric, and he doesn’t lift the skirt, he’s just being sort of sweet, you think; innocent, almost. Which is surprising when you consider that he’s basically the devil any other time.

“What’s ‘this one’? Hm?” you ask sweetly, like coaxing his obedience, like making him say it out loud is comparable to making a dog do a trick.

“Your cunt? Pussy? The slip-n-slide in? Do you just like hearing dirty words?”

“You know what to say,” you say, kissing the arch of his nose and then the tip. God, you don’t ride his face enough, you gotta do that more often, utilize his assets.

He whines and bucks his hips, cock jostling and jumping. You’re so beautiful above him. Why does he think he can treat you like this? You’re not one to joke with. You’re a goddess. Your presence is so unique. Irreplaceable. You’re strong, tough in ways he’s not sure he can really replicate. He’d have to either kill himself or become the next unabomber if you left him. There’d be nothing left of him, no remnants, not a scrap.

“Your royal hotness, may you please stick my teenie-weenie in your peeeeeerrrfect puss-puss?” he has a giggle, a drunken one. Your feet curl under the backs of his knees. He likes their warmth, he likes that it makes him feel both big and strong while also being your fucking accessory. You can climb all over him if you want.

“Nope. Try again,” you allow him a second attempt, knowing that he’s still high off of having just came and still twitchy. You grind down on his soft cock.

“C-Caaaaann…I please, please use your pussy?” His hands grip your upper thighs.

“My what? My what pussy? Is it nice?” you decide to coax, tease him, playfully bully him even, into being sweet.

“No, it’s mean—,” he says, half-joking. “Yeah, yeah your pussy is nice. It’s…pretty. It’s warm. Your pretty pussy.” All the blood is rushing from his brain back to his oversensitive cock at the thought of it.

“Good. Nice boy,” you clumsily fumble on his lap to tug your panties down and off. “Real good job.” Your skirt is lifted, held in your hands.

He’s salivating. Literally feels his mouth water a little bit. His eyes are staring, just completely entranced by your pussy, gentle hands softer than you can imagine spreading your pussy lips and drooling over your clit.

He grabs his dick, lines it up with your hole. You’ll allow it, you’ll clench over his pulsing, leaking tip begging to be let in and grin as he lets out some breathy, sharp exhale. His brain is marshmallow fluff, a fluffernutter sandwich, and his hips twitch up to try at slipping the tip inside, just the tip, please.

“Uhn-uhn,” you angle your hips in a position where his tip is still pressed against your hole, but you know he can’t get in. “You can’t handle that right now.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, so immature. “Yes I can. I’m — do you think I’m some cuck, king of celibate town?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence where he kind of cedes his case. Like yeah, okay, you might be just kidding, but you’re kind of right, so I give up. He’s all pouty and twitchy. You roll your hips, his tip slips from the home it’s made, edging at your pussy, and the girth of his cock spreads between the puffiness of your labia. It has you both a little surprised by how good it feels.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he whines, hips twitching up and down in an almost embarrassing fashion, slightly out of control in his own body from having came mere minutes ago and now this. Yeah, maybe he can’t handle being inside, but he wants to be close to you. You’re ruining his whole ‘romance’ thing.

“Then it’s perfect for you,” you say, riding his cock — except, his cock between your pussy lips. He grips tight, whining, bucking his hips beneath you as you try to keep a steady pace. His eyes look watery.

“Mean. You are mean tonight, bitch,” his voice wobbles. It’s so, so silly, because you know he’s exactly where he wants to be right now, and it puts you in a nice position. He’s all yours right now, and you like, kind of can do whatever the fuck, and he’ll just nod his little head and pucker his lips for a kiss.

His hips twitch and twitch as you rub back and forth on his cock, and fuck — the tip prods your hole again, just a little. Your hole flutters, because he’s just leaking, and his cock is so hot and throbbing against you. You give some small mercy, your hands caressing his face, thumbing over his eyes and eyebrows down to his scruffy cheeks, kissing him sweetly and chastely. He follows you, tugs you back down, and you allow it. Perfect moment to let his tip push in, right?

He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t — can’t stop kissing you. You think you feel him trying to mumble your name through his lips mashing against yours sloppily and desperately, you think you feel wetness around your mouth and a little dribble of drool as his tongue puppy-dog kisses you.

“Told you, you couldn’t handle it right now.”

“Huh?”

You just snicker. He’s out of it, and even just the tip has his balls drawing up, fucking ready to blow his load.

“Nothing, Romeyrome,” you kiss a speckled mark on his cheek near his nose. “Go ahead, get it over with,” you encourage.

“Get it — ffuck, fuck, over with? You’re so romantic, I’m buying you a Nicholas Sparks novel to compare notes with.”

He whines as you laugh, partly because of your laugh, because he made you laugh. You reach down to rest your warm palms on the throbbing base and oh fuck, he can’t take it. He jerks his hips, grabbing your free hand to kiss the inside of and mumble your name into. He playfully gnaws at it until his head falls back. His eyes still look up at you, even when you look away.

You run your hand down from the base of his cock, your hips still wiggling with just the tip in, and you cup his ballsack, rolling them with your thumb and squeezing them gently.

“Let me in, let me just cum inside, I can’t hold back anymore,” he pleads, breathless.

“No,” you grin, “you can’t take it, honey. Just the tip.”

But he’s a tricky boy, tricky — the minute he gasps, clearly cumming, he lifts his hips off the bed, holding your hips down, pushing all the way in, nice and deep. You decide, okay, that’s his choice, next is mine, right?

You ride him as he cums and long after, and fuck, he’s making almost pained noises. He’s crying, actually, haphazardly gripping your thighs.

“Please, please, can’t you just, fuck, you’re milking my load out of me, fuck you, you — you fuckin’—,” he can’t finish his sentence without an awful, heartfelt little whine, loud as can be, like a pitiful puppy. “Incubus,” he finally finds the word, his thighs twitching beneath yours, hips stuttering up.

“Cum for me, too, what — what do you, can’t you just tell me what to do,” he’s so desperate in his pathetic babbling that it’s sweet.

“Just enjoy it, Roro,” you soothe. He’s so sweet. You can’t resist planting little kisses across his face. He leans into them all.

“Can’t stop, Jesus, can’t fucking stop—,”

“Then don’t stop, get it all out.” You kiss away a few stray tears, and he’s already came once outside of you and once inside, but from how he grips your hips and tries slamming up into you from beneath, you’re pretty sure he came a third time.

There’s a pause. You stop only for a moment, and he’s practically wheezing trying to catch his breath. It’s been a while, you get it; cumming three times in a row, not having to hold back for some fucking fulfillment of a role or whatever, it exhausts you both.

“You gotta let me eat your incubus pussy now.”

“Nooo,” you say, the way one would scold a puppy. “You need to go to bed, honeybunch. That’s that. Doctor’s orders.”

“The doctor’s a quack, let me at it. You drained me dry with your cum-sucking vampire-pussy, so can’t you just let me…sate you?”

You kiss him on the lips.

“I’ll use my face washcloth to clean you up if you drop it.”

He shuts up real quick. Makes a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

Smthn about babydoll is just so😍

Advent Calendar Day Three - Ice Skating

Clay Roach x Reader

a/n: ice skating with clay would actually fix me to be honest, this is all I want in life. I CAN FIX HIM, OKAY?!

yeah, I'm also mocking his sexy Boston accent, so what?

"Babydoll, this is fuckin' dumb. I'm gonna fall flat on my ass." Clay huffed, whining as he tied the laces up on your ice skates.

You rolled your eyes playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as you giggled at Clay's whining. You'd all but practically begged Clay to take you ice skating at the new rink Boston had put up in town. On the one condition that he wouldn't complain. Which, regardless, you knew he would.

"C'mon! Stop being a Scrooge and get your skates on, Mister pahk the cahr." you snickered, shoving Clay's ice skates to his chest.

Clay scoffed, snorting a laugh as he tugged on his own skates with a grumble, huffing under his breath.

"Babydoll! Why do you hate me?" Clay whined, holding your hands tight as he stumbled on the ice like a baby deer learning to walk.

"Stop being such a baby, you're doing fine!" you encouraged sweetly, gripping Clay's hands tight as you twirled him around the ice. You stifled your laugh at the panicked look on his face.

"I'm a grown ass man, babydoll, this is embarrassing!" Clay grumbled, as soon as the words left his mouth he went tumbling onto his ass on the ice with a groan.

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding back the fit of giggles at the sight of Clay pouting before helping him up.

"See, you're a natural!"

"Shut the fuck up, babydoll."

santiago garcia- love at first sight

Summary: Will and Benny bring over Frankie and Santiago for dinner. For Santiago, it’s love at first sight. (~3k)

Contents: no smut, fluffy and fun, fem reader, sexual implications and jokes, this whole thing is group banter and flirting with Santiago, reader had one night with Benny a long time ago

-----

You almost kick the four of them out of your house. Almost.

Will had immediately picked up a football that your nephews had left at your house, thrown it to Benny, and broken a lamp.

Benny had made himself a cold cut sandwich and eaten half, even though he knew you were making them a huge welcome dinner.

Frankie got the other half of the sandwich. He’d apologized, but he’d still eaten it.

And then there was Santiago.

When Benny said he was stopping by for the night, you were thrilled. He said Will might come. Great. And surprise, two other guys are coming by too.

Everyone was welcome, you’d said. You had a spare room, an office with a pullout couch, and a living room sofa. You knew how to cook for an army ha ha fucking ha.

Francisco Morales, who is tall and shaggy and adorable.

Santiago Garcia, who is not as tall, in no way shaggy, and looks at you like you’re covered in gravy, and he’s going to eat you all the way up.

You kick them all out into the backyard.

On his way out, Santiago dares, he dares, to pretend he doesn’t have enough room to get by you while you’re at the stove. Has to lay his hand on the small of your back to squeeze by.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

You tap the wooden spoon on the side of the spicy corn you’re frying. You point it at him. “You’re not fooling anyone, Garcia. Keep your mitts to yourself.”

He grins. He tilts his head like, you don’t want that. We both know it.

You jump when Benny’s big hand lands on your shoulder. “Oooh, sweetheart, that smells amazing. Gonna finally put some hair on Pope’s chest with that,” he says.

You look Santiago up and down. “You smooth like a Ken doll?”

He licks his lips, chin tilted up slightly. “Not everywhere.”

His dark, brown eyes lock onto yours. You look away first. Damn.

Benny reaches out and shoves Santiago’s shoulder. Half good-natured, half a little too hard.

“I told you not to flirt with her. She’s already doing all of this for us. She doesn’t need you slobbering all over the back of her neck.” Benny reaches for a roll, fresh from the oven, and you smack his hand. He hisses and shakes it out. “Be nice or I’ll tell Pope how you and I met.”

You shoot him a warning glare.

“I want two rolls before dinner,” Benny says, always angling for more food.

“No, you wait like everyone else.” You slide the basket further away from him.

Benny pauses, then looks at Santiago. “We had sex on prom night. We weren’t even each others’ dates. Which is also why she’s off limits to you. The four of us have a strict bro’s before-“

You clear your throat. “Rethink the end of that phrase, Miller Two. Or you’ll be eating saltine crackers on the side of the road.”

Benny grins. He puts his hands up and backs away.

“Out, both you,” you say.

Benny leaves, but Santiago slides up next to you. He stops short of actually touching you, but you can almost feel his body heat. The scent of him makes your mouth water.

“Let me help you,” he says, smooth and even. “I’m a good cook. I promise.”

Knowing he probably won’t leave you alone, you give him the spoon. At least this way, he’ll be occupied. “Stir that. Don’t burn my corn,” you say.

“I’d never let anything bad happen to your corn.” He stirs slowly, watching the pan. “I hope I get to eat a huge helping of your corn later. I’m sure your corn is fucking delicious.”

Corn should not be sexual.

But you guess Santiago Garcia never met a word he couldn’t make sound like an orgasm waiting to happen.

He shoots a glance at you from the corner of his eye.

Yup. He knows what he’s doing.

With a huff, you check the double-ovens. You’ve made not one, not two, but three pot roasts. And mashed potatoes. And stuffed onions. And the corn and rolls.

You figured four grown-men back from the jungle would ensure no leftovers. Also, you were glad to see Benny and Will alive and mostly uninjured and this was how you expressed happiness.

Although Will seemed to wince when you hugged his middle. You’d interrogate him later.

Of course, you were glad Catfish and Pope were alive and well. You’d only heard about them until today, but you almost felt like you knew them.

Or rather, Frankie seems to be everything you’d heard.

Santiago is a whole other kettle of… corn.

At least he works in silence. He puts in a little more salt, stirs, turns down the heat.

And then he just watches you.

Watches you take the roasts out of the oven and cover them to rest. Watches you check the onions.

“Stop doing that,” you say, gesturing to the glass-fronted cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. It was your grandma’s and still holds her good dishes. “Do you know how to set a table, or do you eat all your meals with a plastic spork?”

“It’s metal actually,” Santiago says seriously.

You almost laugh. Santiago’s eyes light up when he sees you unable to control a smile. He scratches the stubble on his chin, the sound making your stomach flutter.

“I’ll get Will to help. He’ll make sure everything’s in order,” Santiago starts to leave, but turns back. “Hey, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of Benny. You and he still…”

You roll your eyes. “Just set the table, Spork. Do something civilized.”

Santiago smiles. It almost makes him look harmless. “Don’t worry. For the right woman, I’m completely domesticated.”

“I very much doubt that,” you say as you watch him open your back door to call for Will.

Although, he’d been the only one to take off his boots at the front door without being asked. Something your mother always says to watch out for. Means a man has good manners and is thoughtful.

But what does she know? Your father hogs the bucket of popcorn at the movies and leaves empty water glasses all over the house.

But he’s still completely and utterly devoted to you mother. Still brings her flowers. Still pinches her butt when he thinks his kids aren’t looking.

Will nods to you when he walks in the kitchen. His blue eyes see everything. He silently asks if you’re okay. You nod back.

“So, you gonna let this guy stay for dinner?” He claps Santiago on the back.

“He wasn’t the one who broke a lamp.” You give Will a pointed look and he nods in apology.

Santiago opens your grandma’s cabinet and starts taking out plates. The porcelain barely rattles. He’s quick, but careful.

His muscled shoulders flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches in for the bowls. The flowered china should look ridiculous in his hands, but he treats the set of dishes with as much care as you do.

By the time you realize you’ve stopped everything and you’re just standing there, watching him, Will is already smirking, tongue working around the front of his teeth. He picks up the stack of plates, shaking his head.

They clatter slightly.

Santiago points at Will. “Ay, be fucking careful. These look like antiques.”

You have to turn so they don’t see you melt into a puddle of steaming hot goo. Thoughtful, just like your mother said.

You corral Santiago and Will into helping you bring everything to the big, oval table in the dining room. They sit on either side of you.

If you thought it was chaos when they’d arrived, dinner is a 3-ring circus. The serving platters never hit the tablecloth. They inhale everything as soon as it’s passed around.

It’s very gratifying. You’d complain about them chewing with their mouths open, but you don’t because they’re complimenting you between every single bite.

“You guys are like a pack of dogs,” you say. “I mean that as a compliment.”

“She prefers animals to people,” Benny says to Santiago.

“The four of us have seen people do things animals wouldn’t,” Santiago says, breaking into a roll and slathering butter on it. “Hell, we’ve lived dirtier than dogs.”

Frankie points at Santi. “Correct. I have a picture from Afghanistan. Your socks were so gross, they stood up by themselves.”

Your face dissolves into disgust. “No. That’s horrible. This is a dinner table, Frankie.”

“Sorry, mom. Ma’am,” Frankie goes completely red.

There’s a beat of silence before everyone breaks out laughing. Even Frankie, though he looks like he’s in physical pain.

“In Frankie’s defense, we always kind of thought of you like Will and Benny’s family,” Santiago says. “Although now I know that you and Benny used to date-“

“What the fuck did you just say?” Will says, his jaw tight, blue eyes zeroing in on his brother.

Santiago’s face goes slack. “Oh shit.”

Benny’s fork clatters onto his plate.

“Careful with the china,” you yell at him.

“Sorry,” he says, then turns to Will. “We didn’t date. We just…” he motions with his fingers.

Will’s face looks like manslaughter, “no. Don’t tell me anymore.”

Santiago leans in. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You mime slicing your neck open with your thumb. His face relaxes again, amused.

You turn to Will, seeing how spooled up he is about the revelation that you and Benny had been more than friends once upon a time.

“Will? What’s the dumbest thing you ever did before you were 20?” You ask him.

His jaw works back and forth, his fork swiping through the food on his plate. “Couldn’t really say.”

“The dumbest thing I ever did was your brother, Benjamin Miller,” you say.

“Hey, why do I get hurt in this?” Benny says.

“Shh,” Frankie hushes him.

“It was once, the night we met, and it never happened again,” you say, passing Will the bread basket.

He takes it with a grim look. “We’re going to keep on pretending it never happened.”

“You’re the one who brought Loud Mouth Garcia to dinner. Can’t even keep a secret. How the hell were you ever Delta?” You say to Santiago.

“Persistence,” he says, brown eyes sparkling at you, “I’m a persistence predator.”

Benny clears his throat. “Hey creep-o-saurus-rex, pass the pot roast.”

Santiago picks up the dish and holds it out to Benny, his eyes still on you. “T-rex wasn’t a persistence predator, Benny.”

“Whatever, quit looking at her like you want to eat her out at the dinner table,” he mumbles, scooping food onto his plate.

Will takes a roll out of the basket and beans it off Benny’s head.

“I’m still gonna eat that,” Frankie says, reaching down where it landed on the floor and picking it back up. “Damn good meal.”

You take a moment to look around at this table full of ridiculousness. It’s almost like an out of body experience. Two guys who are like your brothers. One guy who apparently needs a mother figure so badly he’s willing to settle for someone younger than him.

And Santiago Garcia.

You’re going to have a hell of a hard time sneaking him into your room later. Never mind that you can tell he’s going to make you come your brains out at the top of your lungs.

Will taps your foot under the table. He grins at you. “You missed us. Admit it.”

You act like you’re not sure. “I was having a really nice day until you and your chucklefuck friends showed up.”

“We can get hotel rooms. We don’t want to put you out,” Frankie says, his lost puppy eyes working exactly how he’d intended. “You’ve already done enough.”

“I want you all to stay. Trust me,” you reassure him. “I have 2 dozen eggs in the refrigerator for tomorrow morning and big plans for french toast.”

Santiago groans. “You’re going to put me into a coma. But before I go, please, marry me.”

Benny whistles under his breath. “Never heard Pope say the ‘M’ word before.”

“Dibs on Will for the wedding party,” you say, looking at Santiago out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay. I’ll take Benny and Frankie,” Santiago says.

You eye his plate. “Did you like my corn?”

“Fucking loved it.”

You hear chairs pushing back from the table. You and Santiago’s eyes break apart.

“I’m taking my plate outside. You two are making me nauseous,” Will says.

“Right behind you,” Benny picks up his plate and the dish of pot roast.

Frankie looks torn, but eventually gives in and stands too. “Give us a holler when you’re done.” His face gets pink. “Not like done, doing anything. I don’t think you’re going to do it right here. But it’s your house. If you want to.”

Will sighs. “Catfish, quit while you’re not even ahead.”

Santiago stretches his arm out on the back of your chair as the other guys make a quick exit. His fingertips brush lightly against your arm.

“So,” he says, “were you just giving Will and Benny a hard time or are we really doing this?”

“I don’t know. Are you all talk? A flirting for sport kind of guy?”

You’d gotten that impression of Santi, from some of the stories you’d heard. But in person, he doesn’t strike you as shallow or fake. You always trust your gut about people. And your gut says to trust Santiago.

“I’m not flirting. I’m not hunting,” he says. “I’m just, talking to the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

You can’t breathe for a few seconds. Those words, smooth and warm, his serious eyes and the corner of his mouth still raised in half a grin.

Santiago’s hand brushes your hairline at the back of your neck, then settles onto your skin, ever so slightly massaging your muscles.

“Will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? Away from these ‘chucklefucks,’ as you so lovingly said.” His fingers wind their way down, into the collar of your shirt, where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Well, to be clear, I was also including you in that group. But, yes, I’d love to go out with you.”

Santiago looks visibly relieved. Something about his confidence, how it’s both real and also a complete front, makes you want to hold onto him. Keep him.

His fingers pull back. He brushes his knuckles over your chin. Before you can do the same, feel the scrape of his five o’clock shadow on your fingers, Frankie comes bounding back into the dining room.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he rubs his hands together nervously, “do you have any ketchup?”

Your happy mood disappears. You glare at Frankie. “You tell Benny that if he puts ketchup on my pot roast, I’m never cooking for him again. Also, don’t let him make you do his dirty work, Frankie. You’re a grown man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie says with a grim smile. “What about the potatoes, though? For me. Not for Benny.”

“Fine. Refrigerator, top shelf,” you roll your eyes. “I always thought Will would’ve kept you guys in line.”

Santiago leans back in his chair. He looks at home already. “Will doesn’t like to interfere. Man of few words. Benny got all the talking in that family, not that I need to tell you that.”

It’s a little bit amazing to you, that he can sit here in your house like he’s been here a million times before, talking with you like you’re already together, about men you both know, but under very different circumstances.

His dark eyes sparkle at you, looking you over. “I used to think you were pretty, in the pictures Will or Ben would show us. You looked happy. It was nice to see someone having a normal life while we were over there, not being normal. It was good you sent that stuff, pictures and food and whatever.”

“Oh yeah? And who was sending you photos, and whatever?” You ask him.

“Mostly the Playboy Corporation,” Santiago grins. “I’m kidding. No one, actually. My family sometimes. No one like you.”

He’s so sweet you can’t believe this is the same guy you’d heard Will and Benny talk about for years. The smooth talker. The face man. Pope, who probably wouldn’t ever settle down.

No, this is a man who’s wanted to settle down for years. He just wouldn’t settle for less than exactly what he wanted. Which, it seems like, is you.

“Hey.” You give in to your number one urge and run your fingers through his black and silver curls. “How about I ask the guys to clean this up, and you and I go out for dessert? There’s a really good ice cream place downtown.”

Santiago’s face lights up like the fourth of July. “Only if we can get it to-go. We can sit in my truck and neck afterward.”

“Deal. We can ask Frankie to babysit the other two,” you laugh.

His hand finds yours, his fingers linking through and raising your hand to kiss your palm.

“Think we can still do this in ten years?” He asks.

“Do what?” You ask, confused.

“Go out for dessert, just the 2 of us, and leave the kids at home with Frankie.”

“Wow, you really go all in, don’t you, Garcia?” You smile.

“For you, yeah,” Santiago says. “I’ve worked my ass off, for what feels like every day of my life. This is the one thing that’s ever felt easy. Love at first sight.”

Your heart flutters, then drops right in front of him. You can’t help it. He’s right. Like he knows you feel it too, he leans in, like he can’t wait for this first kiss.

His soft lips press against yours.

And bang! There’s a huge crash on the table as mashed potatoes fly everywhere. Onto your clothes. In Santiago’s hair.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Will shouts from the kitchen.

A football sits squarely in the dish of potatoes.

“We’re not bringing them home any ice cream,” Santiago says, but he’s all smiles anyway, pulling you in to finish what’s still a perfect first kiss.

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

Tall sub that adores being tossed around by a domme that's biblical accurately shorter than them.

Melvik agenda >:}}

MelJayVik

thinking about these three in bed, Jayce not being able to keep his hands to himself and Mel deciding to do something about it while Viktor occupies Jayces mouth, his throat being probed while his insides are rearranged by Mels gold plated HexStrap and trust they tease Jayce practically the entire night, teetering him right on the edge before pulling away getting him so worked up he's all teary eyed and begging, while Viktor just scoffs caressing Jayces face while saying "This is what you wanted, no?".

When they do finally let Jayce cum he's sniffling and crying, babbling out a thank you to Mel who'd finally let him cum before he blue balled, gently rubbing his tip as she asked "Gonna be a good boy now?", Jayce would nod and breathlessly parrot her "gonna be good...." his throat raw from all his sobbing. :(