Summary: Y/n feels underappreciated and Johnny shows him just how much he means to him.
Warning: Smut, and a bit of blood play
Wanted to make a Johnny smut, so why not, I'll have a few more matt murdock fics out soon. At some point I just forgot what I was going to put and not put so I just left parts here hoping it makes sense.
"Johnny, you really need to wash your helmet or at least spray some freshener or something. It reeks from across the room."
"What? It's just pheromones."
"Johnny, that's not pheromones; that's sweat that's been trapped in the helmet."
"You just hate me."
"I LITERALLY DO EVERYTHING FOR YOU. I WASH YOUR CLOTHES, CLEAN THE ROOM, MAKE THE BED. I AM MORE LIKE YOUR HOUSEKEEPER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!"
Y/n lashed out, voice echoing off the Baxter Building's sleek walls, but Johnny just smiled that infuriating, cocky grin, knowing Y/n could never stay angry at him for long.
"Stop smiling. This is serious. I do everything for you, and you barely pay attention to me anymore. I swear you love Herbert more than me."
Y/n crossed his arms defiantly as he sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets still rumpled from last night's chaos.
"Would you let me pet your head?"
Y/n furrowed his eyebrows at him, trying to stay stern.
"What are you trying to say, Johnny?"
"It would be nice if you let me pet you, run my fingers through your soft hair, smell your shampoo."
"I use your shampoo, Johnny."
"I was just stroking my ego there. BUT—"
Johnny closed the distance in two strides, wrapping his strong arms around Y/n's waist and hugging him tight. Y/n tilted his head up, locking eyes with those breathtaking ocean-blue irises that always made his knees weak.
"Come on, wouldn't that be nice? Cuddling on the couch or right here on our bed, you laying your head on my chest while I play with your hair. Give you a mohawk or something silly."
"Johnny, it was beautiful until you ruined it with the mohawk bit."
Sue spoke up from the doorway, arms crossed, her perfect blonde bob framing a knowing smirk.
"We're having a moment, Susan."
Johnny replied dryly, still hugging Y/n close against his warm chest.
"Can you let me go now? Please?"
Y/n interjected, half-hearted, already melting into the embrace.
"No."
"Let him go, Johnny. Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes. Go set the table."
Sue rolled her eyes as she turned to leave, but not before prying Johnny's hands off Y/n and giving him a firm shove backward, freeing him completely.
"FREEDOM!"
Y/n yelled triumphantly as he bolted out the door like a kid escaping chores.
"Both of you are children. Actual children in super-powered bodies."
Reed said dryly as he passed by the room, in his suit that he always wore for some reason.
--
"Johnny, stop."
Y/n whispered urgently to him under the dinner table, cheeks flushing as Johnny's mischievous hand crept higher up his inner thigh, fingers teasing the seam of his jeans in the dimly lit kitchen.
"Can we just eat without your shenanigans for once?"
Reed spoke up tiredly from the other side of the table.
"It's like we have two other children apart from Franklin. Hyperactive ones."
"We're behaved. Whatever do you mean, Reed? We're angels."
"Y/n, you're my brother and I love you, but I am going to strangle you if you keep this up."
"Susaaaan, your husband is threatening me agaaaaiiin!"
"He's your brother, Y/n, and you caused this."
She answered motioning to the current commotion
"He's your husband?"
"Johnny, your brother-in-law is threatening your boyfriend, and you're just going to sit there smirking?"
Sue passed the responsibility to Johnny, who was bizarrely munching on Lucky Charms.
"He's your husband, Sue. It's yo—"
"Enough."
Ben stood up abruptly, his rocky frame towering as he boomed.
"Sue, stop riling them up. Y/n, stop being childish. And Johnny, put away the cereal you just ate dinner."
Ben snatched the bowl away mid-bite.
"I wanted dessert. Marshmallows are life."
"Cereal is not dessert, especially dry ones. Get some actual fruit."
Y/n commented innocently as he sipped his orange juice, hiding a grin.
"This family is a disaster. A super-powered circus."
Reed buried his face in his hands, shoulders slumping.
"Aawww, is wittle Weed cwying?"
Y/n teased his brother, pouting dramatically with exaggerated baby talk. But Reed only shot him a pointed glare that screamed *shut up or else*.
"Sorry."
--
"What plans do you have for the evening, Mr. Storm?"
Y/n leaned heavily on Johnny as they sank into the plush couch in the lounge, the city lights twinkling through the massive windows.
"Wanna dye our hair blue?"
"YES!"
"Absolutely not. You'll look like rejected Smurfs."
Sue and Reed protested in unison from the kitchen doorway, where they were loading the dishwasher.
"We're adults."
Johnny answered defiantly, twisting to look back at them with a wink.
"Fine, I'll dye my hair white and Johnny gets blue."
Y/n crossed his arms, scheming.
"Yeah, I always liked a white wolf."
Johnny looked at Y/n with a soft, genuine smile that made his heart flip.
"You look nicest blonde, all golden and beachy, but I guess blue hair would be hot too. Matches the uniform."
Y/n replied, his hand instinctively going to play with Johnny's soft, flame-kissed locks.
"Do it in your room, and no dyeing of hair. I am not explaining blue-headed heroes to the press."
"Killjoys."
Johnny grumbled, but Y/n pulled him down onto the couch in retaliation. Y/n's legs wrapped around his hips possessively as he hovered on top of the smaller, leanly muscled man, pinning him playfully.
"Maybe we should go back to our room. Now."
Y/n pulled the blonde into a searing kiss. Heat exchanged instantly, but Johnny craved more—he always did. His tongue forced its way past Y/n's lips, invading his mouth, licking every crevice like mapping an uncharted cavern. It was hungry, raw, full of pent-up desire. Y/n tugged hard on Johnny's hair—a silent challenge: " prove how much you love me" .Johnny's calloused hand roamed Y/n's body, slipping under his shirt to trace bare skin. Fire trailed in his wake, literal warmth from his powers simmering just beneath.
"Johnny..."
Y/n gasped, pushing him back slightly. A glistening string of spit connected their swollen, wet lips.
"Let's go to bed."
Both panted heavily, chests heaving. Johnny hummed low in his throat, cupping Y/n's flushed cheek. His thumb swiped across Y/n's plump bottom lip before sliding it slowly into his mouth. Y/n sucked eagerly, hollowing his cheeks, eyes locked on Johnny's—showing exactly how badly he wanted him, needed him.
--
"Are you going to be a good boy for me tonight, Y/n?"
Johnny drawled, settling into a sturdy chair in their dimly lit bedroom, the door locked with a soft *click*. The air hummed with anticipation, city glow filtering through half-drawn blinds.
"Yes."
"Come here."
Johnny beckoned with a crooked finger, patting his thigh firmly signaling exactly where Y/n belonged. He obeyed instantly, straddling Johnny's lap, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, bodies aligning perfectly.
"I'm going to do things to you that you never even dreamed of, baby. Ruin you so good."
One hand caressed Y/n's trembling thigh, inching higher, while the other gripped the back of his neck possessively.
"You remember the safe word?"
"There's no safe word, Johnny. You know that."
"Attaboy."
The blonde yanked him closer, crashing their lips together in a messy dance of tongues and spit. Johnny's hands roamed south, cupping Y/n's ass firmly and kneading the firm flesh like warm dough. Their hips ground together instinctively, friction building from the kiss's feverish intensity. Y/n chased those gripping hands, arching back to beg for harder squeezes, harder pressure.
"Get on the bed. Now."
Johnny's voice dropped to a commanding growl as they broke for air, lungs burning. His palm cracked sharply against Y/n's ass, the sting drawing a needy moan that echoed softly. Their gazes locked predator and prey in a silent challenge: *who breaks first?*
"Get on the bed, Y/n. Don't make me repeat myself."
He leaned in teasingly for another kiss, lips brushing feather-light. Y/n caved instantly, surging forward but Johnny shoved him back with a smirk, leaving him whining desperately.
"Johnny, please..."
"Get. On. The. Bed."
Y/n complied begrudgingly this time, sliding off and perching on the edge of the king-sized bed, sheets crisp and inviting. Johnny stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion, revealing his toned muscular body, then stalked over to stand between Y/n's spread legs.
"Remove them. All of it."
Eager fingers fumbled with Johnny's belt, the metallic *clink* loud in the charged silence.
"Keep your eyes on me. Don't you dare look away."
Johnny's fingers gripped Y/n's jaw, tilting his head up. Y/n obeyed, dark eyes glued to those piercing blues as he unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped. The belt came free first—Johnny snatched it, doubling it in his fist.
"We'll be using this later."
Pants slid down torturously slow, exposing pale thighs rippling with muscle, untouched by sun. Y/n's mouth watered, tempted to worship, but he held the gaze. The fabric pooled at Johnny's ankles; he kicked it aside carelessly. Now Y/n's face hovered inches from the bulging boxers straining against a thick, leaking cock the wet patch darkening the front, waistband warped upward.
"Good boy. Now..."
Johnny's hand tangled in Y/n's hair, releasing his jaw—permission granted. His voice stayed deceptively calm, smooth as silk despite the feral glint in his eyes.
"Go on. Take it slow and quiet. Love that filthy mouth of yours, but we don't want Reed banging on the door complaining."
He guided Y/n's face forward. Y/n nuzzled the clothed bulge like a man possessed, rubbing his cheek along the hard length, tongue lapping at the salty wet spot, savoring the musky hint of precum.
"Come on. Worship properly."
Johnny reclined onto the bed, boxers tented obscenely, propping himself on elbows. Y/n dove in, yanking the fabric down to free the throbbing cock it sprang up, heavy and veined, slapping his cheek. He swallowed it greedily in one go, throat relaxing around the girth. Johnny groaned deep, hips bucking as he fisted Y/n's hair, forcing him deeper until his nose buried in trimmed blond pubes. Y/n inhaled sharply—the heady, masculine musk flooded his senses, cock twitching in his pants. His own hand dipped down, stroking frantically through fabric.
Johnny yanked him off abruptly, strings of spit connecting them.
"Suck."
He shoved three thick fingers past Y/n's lips. Y/n swirled his tongue around them, sucking sloppily, coating them thoroughly. Satisfied, Johnny withdrew and claimed his mouth again hot and dominating. Slick fingers probed lower, circling Y/n's hole before breaching slowly, one finger at a time. Y/n moaned into the kiss; Johnny swallowed every sound greedily. Fingers scissored fast, curling to nail that sweet spot relentlessly, making Y/n writhe and leak onto the sheets.
"Hands out. Now."
Johnny withdrew everything, looping the belt around Y/n's wrists and cinching tight secure and inescapable. In a swift flip, Y/n was flat on his back, bound and exposed, Johnny looming above like a god of fire.
"You're not gonna walk straight for a month, baby. Maybe longer."
"Just fuck me already, flame boy. Please."
Y/n lunged for a kiss but got pinned down flat.
"You don't talk to me like that, Y/n. Not unless you wanna earn a real punishment."
He attacked Y/n's neck—kissing, licking, sucking bruises into pale skin, marking his territory. Teeth grazed collarbones, drawing whimpers.
"Please, Johnny... I need y-you. Fill me up."
Y/n bit his lip bloody to stifle louder cries, legs hooking around Johnny's waist to lock him in place.
"You moan like that again, and I'm fucking some random girl tonight. Got it?"
"Y-you're a h-horrible fucking b-boyfriend."
"Yet here you are, begging for my cock. Pathetic and perfect."
Johnny lifted his head at last, admiring the hickey-laced canvas. He dragged Y/n's head aside by the hair, eyes raking over smooth, supple skin as palms glided possessively up flanks.
"You have no idea how perfect you are, Y/n. Mine to break."
"Well then, make me understand. Simplest way possible."
Those words snapped something primal.
"The things you do to me should be illegal."
Johnny's cock nudged Y/n's entrance, fat head kissing the rim, smearing precum for slick.
"You ready, baby?"
Bound hands strained to claw at Johnny's neck, yanking him into a bruising, lust-drenched kiss. Answer was given and Johnny snapped his hips forward. No prep, no mercy: one brutal thrust buried him balls-deep in tight, fluttering heat. Y/n arched, biting Johnny's lip hard enough to split skin, copper flooding their mouths.
"Fuck—"
Johnny hissed, pain igniting pleasure. The kiss turned feral—saliva and blood mingling, sweat-slick skin sliding. He set a teasing rhythm at first: slow drags out, punishing slams in. But control frayed fast. Thrusts accelerated—ferocious, skin-slapping echoes filling the room, bedframe protesting.
"Johnny, p-please... i-it's t-too much already—"
Pleas ignored. Johnny lost himself, pounding selfishly, overpowering Y/n's legs despite their pull. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto Y/n's chest.
"Shut up."
Dilated blues bored into dazed eyes. Hair plastered to his forehead, Johnny crammed two fingers into Y/n's mouth—silencing him as he sucked desperately. Bodies grew slippery, grip faltering on sweat-slick hips.
"Fuck, need both hands."
Fingers yanked free; mouth replaced them. The healing bite reopened under Y/n's teeth, another hiss, another retaliation: hips snapping viciously harder, forcing Y/n's jaw slack. Johnny's tongue plunged in, claimed, letting Y/n suckle it amid blood and spit. Bedframe *thudded* rhythmically against the wall. Exhaustion crept in Johnny broke the kiss gasping, forehead to shoulder.
"J-Johnny... plea-please, remove the b-belt. Hurts."
"You know the answer, baby. Take it."
He collapsed forward, face nuzzling Y/n's neck—licking salt, sucking fresh bruises. Fingers yanked hair, exposing more throat. A guttural groan vibrated as he bit down hard, ripping a loud moan despite warnings.
"I told you to stay quiet."
Head lifted; he glared into blissed-out, unfocused eyes. A hazy hum answered. Thrusts turned erratic, chase-mode—ragged breaths signaling the edge.
"J-Johnny... hnnng~ fuck, please cum inside. Pleasepleaseplease—"
Y/n dragged him into one last scorching kiss. Sheets soaked, room thick with sex and sweat.
"I will, baby. All for you."
Groan ripped free—Johnny came, flooding deep with hot pulses. Thrusts slurred lazy through aftershocks, knees buckling. He ground in impossibly deeper. Y/n shattered seconds later, ropes of cum splattering between them, legs clamping to milk every drop.
"You okay?"
Johnny murmured, high fading, thumb stroking a flushed cheek.
"Yeah... fuck, I need a shower. Sticky everywhere."
"Why? Wear it like a badge."
Y/n eyed Johnny's wrecked face—pink-flushed, sweat cascading from nose and chin.
"We're not done, Y/n. Not even close."
His cock twitched, hardening impossibly inside the abused hole.
"I can't feel my legs, Johnny."
"I know. Keep 'em wrapped tight. But one more sound, and I'll bruise you head to toe—uniform won't hide shit."
"I'll tell Reed."
"Try it. I'll fuck you senseless first."
Smirk flashing, Johnny reignited—hungrier, more savage, fatigue burned away like so much ash.
Summary: It isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten.
Word Count: 8,600
Pairing: Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Warnings: 18+ mdni, mutual masturbation, watching porn together, threesome, handjobs, ass eating, oral sex (m receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), dirty talk, dom/sub undertones, polyamory
Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar thank you both so much, you're angels for helping me through this <3
A/N: Special thanks to the author of this post for making an excellent resource for writing Spanish in fics, it came SO in handy. Also thanks to @triplefrontier-anniversary for inspiring me to finish getting this brainworm all written down before the deadline!
Santi is an incredible fuck. Also, he’s a fairly sweet guy.
You met him at your favorite club. He’d been dancing with men and women all night long, graceful and respectful, and you itched to get your turn with him.
When you finally got the chance, his body was solid and sweaty and sure against your own.
You could barely hear him over the music when he told you, lips brushing over your ear, that he was hoping you’d seek him out.
He kissed you, after a few songs, and you met it with an eagerness you didn’t even know you had in you. It wasn’t long before he asked you to come back to his place, and he made you fall apart underneath him.
The morning after wouldn’t have been awkward, either, if his roommate hadn’t been cooking breakfast for the both of you.
Santi introduced him as “Frankie, or Catfish, or Fish.” He was gorgeous, too, in a softer way than Santi. His brown eyes were wider and less menacing than Santi’s, and his curls peeked out under a well-worn trucker’s cap.
He said it was nice to meet you, and asked how you liked your eggs, and if you were way too loud the night before with Santi, he didn’t mention it. You did, however, catch him sneaking glances at Santi while the three of you ate, and wondered what they meant.
It didn’t matter much at the time when you thought you’d never see Santi again. But he walked you to your Uber after breakfast, and asked if you maybe wanted to do this again, no pressure, no strings attached. And you did. So you exchanged numbers and he kissed you on the cheek before sending you off.
You’ve met up with him a few times now. Each time Frankie makes himself scarce. You either hear the TV in his room, or you pass him on your way in, telling you he’s got errands to run. What errands he’s running at 10pm, you’re not sure you want to know, but you don’t think much of it.
Until now. You knock on the front door of their apartment and hear voices, too muffled to make anything out clearly.
Santi answers before too long with a smile, and you follow, intent to trail him to his bedroom like you usually do.
This time, though, Frankie’s sat on the couch in the living room, a beer in his hand, and he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.
“Am I, uh, interrupting something? We can rain check.”
Frankie looks to you, and then to Santi, and you feel like you have your answer before either of them speak.
“No, no, you haven’t interrupted anything,” Santi starts, “it’s just our favorite OnlyFans guy released a new video a few days ago and we haven’t had the chance to watch it yet. Fish is a little eager.”
“Fuck you, I’m not. Just thought we were watching it today is all. No big deal.”
It’s a lot of information to process, that these two not only share a favorite OnlyFans creator, but watch his videos together. And— not to assume, but you’re sure they probably do other things together too.
“Oh… I mean, I don’t want to ruin your plans.”
“It’s fine—“
Frankie’s reassurance is cut off by Santi though, something that seems like a common occurrence by the way he settles back into his seat and closes his lips when Santi begins to speak.
“You wanna watch with us? First orgasm of the night, but I promise I’ll make it up to you after.”
And fuck it, you think. It isn’t quite what you imagined when you left your place, but it doesn’t sound like a terrible way to spend your Friday night.
“I’m down,” you shrug, and Santi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and winks at you.
He turns the lights off while Frankie casts the video to the TV. You settle in the armchair, as Fish looks a little uncomfortable, but he assures you he isn’t when you check in with him.
Santi takes the opposite side of the couch as Frankie, and then he’s ordering him to start the video.
The bar on the bottom reads 45:06. Longer than you expected. The video is well-edited with soft royalty-free music over a logo that fades when the man appears on screen.
You chance a small glance at the couch. You aren’t really sure what the etiquette is here, but neither of them seem to be making any moves yet, hands resting on their own thighs. You mirror them, subtly shifting to do so, and avert your eyes to the television once more.
The man on the screen is a wicked dirty talker. He spends a good five minutes telling the viewer what he wants done to him. He’s also quite submissive by the sounds of it, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Santi loves the way you submit to him, tells you so every time you hook up.
You find yourself wondering what Frankie likes in the bedroom, if he’s also just as dominant as Santi, if he’s more sweet or hardened, if he would be vocal like Santi or more reserved like he seems to be in his daily life.
Before you realize it, the man on the screen is stripping down into a skimpy, lacy set of underthings. His cock is on the smaller side but rock hard and leaking, tenting his little lacy briefs in a deliciously obscene display. Your cock stirs at the sight, and you peek over at the couch again.
Frankie’s palming the bulge in his sweatpants, eyes glued to the screen so diligently that you think it’s calculated. Santi, in contrast, has his hand under the waistband of his gym shorts already.
But you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker from the screen, and not to you, but to Frankie, flitting up and down quickly from his face to his lap.
You try not to sigh too loudly as you cradle your own package, half-hard in your own skimpy briefs you wore just for Santi. You watch as the man on the screen turns his back to the camera and bends over, allows the camera to get a full view of the outline of the plug nestled between his juicy ass cheeks.
The air in the room feels humid, almost too hot as the video goes on. You definitely get why this guy is their favorite OnlyFans creator. He’s gorgeous, first of all, all lithe muscle, soft in the perfect places. And he’s an incredible performer. He talks to the camera like he’s talking to you, desperate and breathy. It doesn’t take long for your prick to fully fill out in your briefs.
The camera angle changes on screen. It cuts to him on all fours on the bed, his hole gaping from removing the plug, his pretty pink cock leaking between his legs. A rough grunt from your left has your eyes wandering to the couch again.
Santi’s cock is out, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. Thick and glistening in his big hand, his balls sat atop the waistband of his shorts. Your own throbs under the pressure of your palm, and you let yourself sneak a look at Frankie, too.
He’s finally got his hand down his pants, and you almost feel bad for wondering what his cock is like, too. If it would mirror the differences between he and Santi’s bodies, longer but thinner. You wonder if he’s uncut like Santi is, and you wonder what he’d taste like.
A loud whimper makes you peel your eyes away from the couch and look back at the TV. The guy is three fingers deep in himself, fucking them in along with the messy amount of lube he’s used. It’s fucking hot, and you throw all caution to the wind to unzip your jeans and pull your cock free from its confines.
“He’s fucking hot right?”
You turn your head to Santi at the sound of his voice. Your heart picks up at the sight of him, one hand stroking his balls while the other works slowly up and down his shaft.
You squeeze your own in response.
“Yeah, not exactly my type but he’s still doing it for me.”
Santi chuckles, nods his head back to the screen. But before you turn back yourself, you see Fish glance at Santi out of the corner of his eye. He starts to shuffle his waistband down his hips, but you turn away before you see anything you think you shouldn’t.
The guy on the screen is limber. On his back now, knees pressed to his chest, he’s whining and whimpering while he fucks himself with a big, realistic dildo.
It’s massive, much bigger than any real cock you’ve taken, but you guess that’s some of the appeal. You try to quietly spit in your hand, then spread it up and down as you lazily stroke yourself off to the video.
It’s loud. The obscene squelching and consequential moans fill the living room, but not enough that you can’t hear the strokes from both Santi and Frankie on the couch next to you. Occasionally you hear a muffled curse, or a stilted gasp, and you can’t be sure which man they’re coming from but you want to hear more.
You glance over again. Your eyes land on Santi first, of course, who’s almost shamelessly staring at Frankie’s crotch, the way he lifts his hips to fuck into his fist every few thrusts.
Frankie’s cock is longer, and thinner, and you’re delighted to find that he isn’t circumcised either, the fat head of his cock disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin.
He turns his head, and you stop stroking your cock all together, afraid of Fish’s reaction to you sneaking a peek. Only, when you meet his eyes to shoot him an apologetic look, he’s not looking at you.
He’s looking at Santi, staring, eyes roaming up and down his body, lingering where he fists his prick, then back up again. You’re stunned still at how intimate it feels, the heat in Frankie’s gaze as he licks his plush lips.
You turn your eyes back to the video with a pounding heartbeat. Your erection begins to wane as you stare through the TV. You can’t get it out of your mind, the way they look at each other. You’re surprised they haven’t caught each other looking yet. The heat from both of their gazes looked tangible, hungry and yearning. It’s as plain as day to you, on the outside looking in.
“Ah fuck—”
The curse is not from Santi. Your eyes trail over just in time to see Frankie pull his shirt up and spill across his stomach. His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall behind the couch, and you see Santi’s fist speed up, a blur of tan skin.
You watch him watch Frankie, unabashed now as Fish’s eyes are shut in bliss, and Santi comes too with a deep hum, closing his own eyes just in time for Frankie to open his and look at the both of you.
He quickly averts his gaze when he sees you staring, reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table in front of him. In a move that looks so familiar, he pulls out two for himself, and then two for Santi, handing them over with practiced ease.
Santi pants out a gruff gracias and uses one to clean up with, then holds out his hand to offer you the other.
“Oh— no thanks, I’m good. Didn’t quite get there.”
Santi hums, uses the extra tissue to finish wiping himself up.
“What’s wrong, hermoso? Have I ruined you for all other men?”
His grin is cocky when he asks, tucking himself back into his shorts.
“Yeah Santi, that’s it.”
You roll your eyes and look over to Fish as if to say this fuckin’ guy, but he’s busy boring a hole into the paused TV screen like his life depends on it.
Your dick is hanging fairly limp out of your underwear, so you stow it away, pull your jeans back up.
“Don’t bother,” Santi tells you, nodding his head toward his bedroom, “let me make it up to you now.”
So with your fly undone, you stand on weary legs and follow Santi to his room. When you make it, you turn back to Frankie, to say thank you or sorry, you can’t be sure, because he’s already closing his own bedroom door behind him.
Santi makes good on his promise, though. He eats your ass for what feels like hours, until you’re shaking and begging for him to fuck you. And then he does, somehow riding the perfect line between rough and tender, holding your back against his front with one big hand on your chest as you both kneel on the bed. His other hand works your cock so perfectly that you come unglued in a grand way, like you always do with him.
He cleans you up after, gentle. He’s a huge cuddler, so it doesn’t phase you anymore when he spoons you close and presses his mouth along the little love bites he’s left.
“You really aren’t into subs, are you? Not even a little bit?”
You know he’s referencing your lack of interest in the video. You could agree with him, or you could tell him the truth. You’re not sure what to do, and so you sit in silence for some time before you decide to bite the bullet.
“It isn’t that. I mean, I am more into doms but— that wasn’t it.”
You feel him go stiff behind you.
“Shit, was that too weird for you? I didn’t mean to force you into—“
“No! No, Santi, it was fine. I just— you’re into Frankie, right?”
Air escapes his lungs in something akin to a sob.
“What!? Why would you say that?”
He’s not denying it, which is a good step.
“C’mon man, you were watching him more than you were watching the TV.”
“Pendejo, no I wasn’t.”
“Pendejo” you mock him, “don’t gaslight me. I don’t care. This isn’t, we’re no strings, right? I’m just saying, I don’t wanna come between this thing.”
“There’s no thing to come between. Even if you were right, which you’re not, Fish isn’t into me like that.”
You laugh.
“O-kay.”
“Don’t ‘okay’ me. How would you know? You’ve known him for a grand total of an hour and a half.”
“He was looking at you, too. You know that, right? You’re just in denial?”
“I would’ve seen if he was looking at me.”
“Because you were looking at him.”
“Fine! Okay, I was looking at him. He wasn’t looking at me so what’s it even matter?”
“He was, Santi. He was looking at your cock and licking his lips like he was starved. I saw it.”
Santi huffs behind you, and it tickles your neck.
“I’m not lying to you. I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you a little bit.”
His arm around you tightens for a beat.
“Awww, so sweet, querido.”
“Shut up,” you huff, “you’re changing the subject. He was looking at you, like he’s always looking at you. I’ve watched him moon over you every single breakfast I’ve eaten here. You know how bad that makes me feel, eating the breakfast he made me while your cum drips out of me?”
“Fuck, why’d you say it like that? That’s so hot.”
“Because it’s true. If you guys have feelings for each other you need to figure that out before I die of a guilty conscience.”
You can practically feel Santi’s eyes roll behind you.
“Dramático,” he groans.
“You do have feelings for him. It seems like he does too. Get your poop in a group about it, man.”
“Will you still stay over? I’ll need a morning fuck if this is the way my weekend’s gonna go.”
——
I can’t do it. Frankie’s visiting his kid this weekend
The text comes a few hours after you shared your now routine, dysfunctional family breakfast, where Fish was indeed making googly eyes at Santi, and Santi’s cum was indeed leaking out into your underwear.
Likely story
No really. I don’t want to mess with his vibes, his kid is super important to him. It’s cute.
Oh my god just fuck him already
I’m TRYING okay? Can you help? I need moral support.
And look, it isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten.
So the two of you devise a plan. It’s convoluted as all hell, but also fairly simple. The next time their OnlyFans guy posts a video, Santi invites you over to watch again. Conveniently, just before you arrive, he spills a glass of red wine all over the seat of the armchair, and soaks the cushion trying to get the stain out of the beige fabric.
You show up, ‘none the wiser.’ Still, the vibes are absolutely weird in their two bedroom apartment. Frankie’s fidgeting on the couch, and Santi misses your cheek and plants a kiss to your eyelid. You have to get these boys together.
The plan goes off without a hitch from there. Santi flicks off the lights, and Frankie casts the video to the TV, just like they did last time, just like they’ve probably done dozens of times before. But now, the armchair is out of commission, so you all squeeze together on the couch. Santi’s in the middle, of course, his thick thigh pressing against your own as you all point your attention to the flatscreen.
You’re kind of excited. It’s a weird thing for you to be excited about, but you weren’t lying all those days ago. You do care for Santi. And Fish too, really, if only for the delicious breakfasts he makes, and for making Santi happy.
This time, you don’t wait for any of their cues. You pull your cock out as soon as the OnlyFans guy starts stripping his clothes. Santi grabs your hand, and for a second you think you’ve ruined the plan. But then spits into it, and Frankie groans from Santi’s other side as he watches the display. You moan a little too, partly for show, partly for the way Santi never fails to make your dick rock hard in record time.
You stroke yourself, and it goads the boys into pulling their pants down, too. The guy on the screen is doing things a little differently this time, fingering a see-through fleshlight as he lubes it up. This is hotter to you, anyway. It doesn’t take long at all for pre-cum to gather at your slit and slick your strokes even more.
By the time the guy is fucking into it with timid strokes, whimpering through the speakers, Santi still hasn’t made a move. You elbow him in the side, and he flinches, then elbows you right back.
You turn your head toward him, make like you’re kissing his neck, because Frankie’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull with the way he’s got them trained on Santi.
“Go on. You already have an audience,” you whisper.
Santi shudders, and Frankie looks away. Just in time, too. Santi eyes the way Fish is stroking himself, and then you hold your breath as Santi lifts his hand and wraps it around the base of Frankie’s cock.
“Ohmyfuckinggod.”
Frankie’s head thunks against the wall behind him, and his hips jolt up into the touch. You’re watching without any hesitation now, and Fish’s eyes are closed anyway. Santi squeezes and Frankie whimpers and scrambles to find Santi’s cock without looking.
“Fuck, Fish. Yeah?”
Santi’s voice is dripping with arousal, low and gruff, his cock twitching in Frankie’s grasp.
“Please, please.”
Frankie finally opens his eyes, lets his head loll to the side to look at Santi. But his eyes quickly flutter to you, his expression twisting up in confusion.
“Santi, what—“
“Shhh, hermano, s’okay.”
You lean forward, and for a moment you’re having an out-of-body experience, watching yourself cradle into Santi’s side, not knowing if you’re helping or hurting their cause, but wanting to reassure them both that this is a good thing.
Frankie takes the encouragement for what it is, allowing himself to fuck up into Santi’s fist and look at him with hooded eyes, mouth gaping open.
Like a fish, you think, and chuckle against Santi’s neck.
“What’s happening? Why?”
Frankie looks between the two of you for an answer, and you bite down on Santi’s earlobe to goad him to answer.
“He caught you looking, last time. Caught me looking at you, too. Put two and two together for me. This okay?”
Frankie shudders and closes his eyes, but nods his head.
You watch both of them, their hands on each other’s pricks, their hips meeting the thrust of foreign fists.
“Waited so long,” Frankie whispers.
“Lo sé, me too.”
Their faces inch toward each other, and you nuzzle the curls at the nape of Santi’s neck. To encourage him, or maybe to shield your eyes from the intimate moment, or probably both.
You feel the kiss, the way Santi’s neck cranes and flexes, and you hear the ragged moans from their lungs, and you are rock hard.
But your work here is done. You may need to jerk off in Santi’s bathroom before you leave, lest you tumble down the apartment stairs since there’s hardly any blood flow to anywhere other than your dick.
But as you make to get up, Santi’s free hand plants firmly on your thigh. You still behind him, a rush of awkwardness flushes through your system.
His head leans back when he pulls away from the kiss, and you watch the way Frankie physically recovers from it, takes a big lungful of air and slowly opens his eyes, licks the taste of Santi from his lips.
“What do you think, Fish? Should we thank him?”
Your cock throbs where it’s pressed against Santi, and you feel him chuckle, but Frankie’s nodding his head fast and looking straight at you.
“Yeah, yes,” he answers, breathless.
“My bedroom or yours, hermano?”
“I couldn’t give any less of a shit.”
They both laugh, and you find it in you to huff, but it’s anything but authentic when all you can think about is having these two men in bed with you, thanking you.
“Go get comfy, yeah? We’ll be there in a minute,” Santi tells you.
You’ve never moved more swiftly in your life, and you’re sure it looks so graceful, walking to Santi’s room with your hard prick swaying in the wind. But you, like Frankie, couldn’t give any less of a shit.
You undress in the now familiar bedroom, lie back on freshly washed sheets as you hear Santi and Frankie mumble, incoherent all the way out in the living room. Your heart rate picks up when you hear footsteps, but only one pair, and Santi struts in. You can hear rustling from beyond the door, a kitchen cabinet opening and closing.
“He‘a grabbing us some waters. I wanted to check in, make sure this is all okay? I know it wasn’t the plan.”
Now you laugh.
“Is it okay? Do I want two gorgeous men thanking me for squishing their heads together like Barbie dolls? It’s more than okay.”
Santi clicks his tongue at you.
“No need for the sass.”
Your blood runs cold at his tone shift, even as his lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at each corner.
Frankie walks in, then, and almost looks startled by the staring match happening. Still, he wades further into the room, sets a few glasses of water down on the nightstand.
You’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, naked and spread out on the bed in front of these two men, fully clothed and practically leering at you. Frankie’s not so shy now; you can feel his eyes on you as they roam across every inch of exposed skin. It’s a heated, tense moment that only breaks when Santi tugs Frankie to him by the hem of his shirt.
Christ, is it hot to watch, the way Fish’s body goes lax as Santi’s tenses, grabbing the back of his neck. His strong arm flexes as his hand gets lost in Frankie’s curls. They share a kiss that looks like less lips and more teeth. Then Santi’s sliding his hands under Frankie’s shirt, along his flanks, exposing smooth, tan skin.
They part to fling their shirts off, and you can’t help it, you reach down to touch yourself. You’re watching something beautiful. Their dance is stilted with novelty but still looks so easy, familiar in an unfamiliar way.
Their noses bump together awkwardly at times, but their hands map out patterns across each other’s bodies that look practiced, like they’ve done this thousands of times before, if only in their dreams.
And they look incredible together. Santi’s thick and bulky, skin so taught over his frame. And Frankie is leaner, corded muscle covered in softer flesh. It looks so squeezable. It is, you find out, second-hand, by the way Santi grabs him by the hips and pulls him closer, just to push him away to get his pants down.
They don’t part for long, and you’re stuck in this haze, a participant only by the way you’re sliding your hand lazily up and down your shaft while you watch them. Santi hasn’t waxed since you first met him, and now all that chest hair is growing in, a stark contrast to Fish’s hairless one. And you know it feels incredible, to be in Frankie’s position, getting scratched by all that wiry hair. You know his own hairless chest will be red and splotchy by the time the night ends, like yours has been countless nights before.
Finally, they come up for air, naked and heaving breaths across each other’s faces as they share a look. Santi raises his strong brow, tilts his head in your direction, and you’re snapped out of your voyeuristic state.
“Let’s show some gratitude, yeah?”
His voice is all low and hoarse, and you watch it affect Frankie in the same way it affects you, cocks jumping. And fuck, Fish does exactly as he’s told once Santi coaxes him with a playful slap to his ass. He crawls up between your legs, and his full lips are even more so now, bitten and slick and deep red. Glancing up at you with those long, pretty, fluttery lashes, his sweet brown eyes are all heavy-lidded and hesitant.
“This is okay?”
His voice is small, and he’s so goddamn perfect.
“Yes, Frankie. Please.”
You both exhale at the same time, and then he gets to it, immediately. His tongue hangs out of his mouth when he opens it wide, and he wastes no time sinking down on your prick.
“Jesus Christ, Fish.”
You damn near give yourself whiplash to look over to Santi, frozen in place next to the bed, eyes glued to where you and Frankie connect. The latter moans around your cock, encouraged to bob his head faster already, take you deeper.
“Knew you’d be such a good little cocksucker with those pretty lips. Fuck.”
It’s so hot, it’s too hot. You’re going to blow in record time with the warmth of Frankie’s mouth and the filth Santi is reciting.
He must see it in your face, the panic of this all being over way quicker than you want it to be. He kneels on the bed beside you both, gets a hand in Fish’s silky curls and you see the shudder that cascades down his body.
“Not a race, hermano,” Santi says, tugging at his hair to get him to lift off of your leaking prick.
Fish stares, wide-eyes and ragged breathing, as Santi arranges himself to lie beside him, both of their faces now inches from your throbbing cock.
“Control freak,” Frankie mumbles, but the smile on his face makes any heat from his words dissipate.
Santi punishes him with a bruising kiss anyway. Your hips jolt as Frankie’s hair brushes across your dick, so on-edge that even that whisper of a touch sends you reeling.
Santi chuckles around Fish’s bottom lip that he’s got between his teeth.
“He so sensitive, Fish. Gotta take it slow, alright?”
It makes your entire body burn, the way he’s talking about you like you’re not even there. The way he’s been guiding Frankie through everything so far, and the way Frankie follows so obediently.
Santi shuffles a bit, and Fish does too, so in-sync that you almost laugh. Their unplanned choreography has them both straddling one of your legs respectively, arms in between, their hands finding each other just close enough to your heavy sac that you can feel the heat coming off of them.
They both look up at you, and for a moment everything is so eerily perfect that it feels like you’re in some sick, twisted Truman Show remake, and this was all a ploy to get you into bed with them.
But then Santi looks at Frankie, a soft bueno? uttered toward him, and Frankie nods. Santi leans in, for what you assume is to kiss him more, but his nose brushes the base of your shaft. And then Fish leans in too, his own strong nose nuzzling just under your head.
Your hands find purchase on the backs of their necks, a light touch to ground yourself as you watch. It’s so fucking intimate, and you’re the catalyst for their exploration, and it’s driving you up the goddamn wall. Your curse and watch twin grins break out on their faces.
Shitheads, both of them.
They continue on with this dance, breathing in your scent as they nose up and down your cock. Their eyes open and close, but their gazes always seem to land on each other at the same time.
And then Santi leads, licking a long stripe up the side of you. Frankie follows eagerly once he catches on, meeting him for a sloppy dance of tongues all over the head of your dick, your frenulum, lapping up the pre-cum that’s been steadily leaking from your slit.
It jerks wildly under their loose attention, and Frankie chuckles deep and low as he chases your cock and Santi’s mouth at the same time. Your nails start to bite into their napes, the burning in your gut becoming far too intense.
“Guys,” you gasp, “I— fuck. I can’t.”
Santi hums, leaves a playful nip at the base of your prick that nearly sends you over the edge. Fish lets up, intent to lick up every last drop of your taste from Santi’s mouth, and groans when he succeeds.
You’re all left panting for a minute. You can’t decide who to look at. Santi’s head has fallen onto your thigh, and Frankie’s propped up on an elbow, staring down at him, all along the dips and curves of his tan skin. Santi gets a hand around Fish’s cock, thumbing under the head in slow circles, soothing and relaxed.
“Everyone still having a good time?”
Santi’s tone implies he already knows the answer. A weak Jesus, yes huffs out of your vocal chords, just as Frankie nods his head eagerly where it rests in his palm.
Santi cranes his neck to look up at you, and already you know you’re in for it, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“You want Fish to fuck you?”
Your cock throbs near their heads, and Frankie snorts.
“Think that’s a yes, huh?”
You answer Fish with a nod. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone but Santi. The thought shorts out all the wires in your system as you realize you get to learn him this way, what he’s into, what he’ll want to do to you, and how different it is from his counterpart.
“All fours, both of you. He’ll let you eat his ass for hours, Fish,” Santi instructs.
“Jesus.”
If it weren’t for the way Frankie scrambles to get into position, you’d ask if he was alright with it. But once he’s hovering on his hands and knees between your legs, he’s manhandling you to do the same, and you love it.
Your cock sways and leaks between your thighs, and Fish pulls and tugs to get you exactly how he wants you. You feel even more exposed than usual like this, with these two men behind you. He spreads you open for him, and you feel your hole clench and relax as it’s exposed to the humid air of the bedroom.
Then he spits, perfectly aimed, and you feel his saliva trickle all the way down your taint, tickling your balls as it drips onto the sheets.
A puff of hot air is all the warning you get before his tongue is following that same trail in reverse, all the way up to where your crack meets your back, and then back down, and your elbows buckle and so does your resolve.
You moan a mix of curses and Frankie’s name, and it only eggs him on, gets him to zero in on your rim with his tongue, circling then flicking, over and over.
You try to crane your neck enough to see Santi when you hear him swear.
“You really fuckin’ like this. Don’t you, Fish?”
All you can see is his tight curls behind Frankie’s own arched back, and his big hands wrapped around Frankie’s slender hips.
You feel Frankie answer him, an incoherent groan into your asshole as the tip of his tongue breaches you.
You’re on fire. Your cock is leaking a really pathetic stream onto Santi’s bedding, neglected, and you know you won’t come without any friction, but you also don’t want to. Not for a while, not until you get to feel Frankie’s cock inside you, get to see Santi watch him fuck you.
You’re anything but impatient, though. Santi was right, the smug asshole. You could keep Fish here for eternity, especially with how fucking diligent his tongue is, lapping you up and pressing inside of you, over and over. It’s dizzying, especially when he begins making desperate noises against you.
You know he’s in for the time of his life. Santi, as smug as he is, loves eating your ass ‘for hours.’ He’s fucking sloppy with it, and he does this thing with his thumbs that drives you—
“Fuck! Ay dios, Pope, what the fuck?”
Frankie falls lax into you, his nose against your hole and his lips brushing your taint as he curses.
“Yeah, you like that? Want me inside this cute little ass?”
Fish whines, shifts his face so he can bite the tender flesh where your thigh and ass meet, and all you can do is groan and push back into him as he gives Santi his answer.
“Damelo, need you, please.”
Santi hums, and you can tell by how it’s muffled that his mouth is once again occupied. Frankie recovers, though his tongue is much less coordinated now, a messy flurry of licks as he prods at your entrance.
Then you hear it, the click of a bottle opening, bouncing off the bedroom walls in a familiar way. You clench around Frankie’s tongue, a Pavlovian response, and he groans and fits his lips around your hole and sucks.
You’re babbling now, strings of nonsense, begging, and praise in the otherwise silent bedroom. You know the exact moment Santi sinks his thick finger inside of Frankie, because you feel him stiffen and shake against you, feel his nails dig into the meat of your cheeks where he’s spreading you open.
His mouth retreats, and you whine, but he’s tugging on you again to get you to lie on your back.
It’s a fucking sight when you’re finally able to watch. Fish has his back arched like a goddamn cat, presenting his ass to Santi, mouth gaping open at his skilled fingers.
Santi’s looking over him, one large hand splayed out on his back to keep him still as he fucks into him with what you assume is at least three fingers, the way Frankie’s drool is dripping from the corner of his mouth. Santi’s eyes are glued to his ministrations, where he’s slowly thrusting in and out, his big bicep flexing as he goes.
He manages to tear his eyes away, though, to look at you and wink.
“How’d he do? Think he deserves to fuck you, papi?”
You whimper at the mere thought of it, finally feeling him inside you.
You shake your head, but Santi tuts.
“Yeah— Yes, Santi. He did so good.”
Santi’s lips tilt up into a wicked smirk.
“There he is, that’s it, tell Francisco how good he is for us, huh?”
You see Frankie’s cock throb between his legs, hear a pathetic little noise fall from his lips. You and Santi both get a curious but delighted look on your faces at his reaction.
“Did so good, Francisco.”
He shivers, hides his face in the bedding between your thighs for a hot minute. A lungful of air escapes him, slow and methodical, before he tilts his head back to Santi.
“Lube?”
Santi huffs, tosses the bottle next to Fish’s head.
“Doesn’t take long for him. He likes the stretch, don’t you bebito?”
You huff, and your face feels hot and prickly as both men look at you. You squirm, and you don’t want to answer, you want at least a tiny bit of pride going into this, because you know you’re bound to come out the other side with absolutely none.
“He asked you a question,” Frankie says.
His gruff voice makes your breath catch.
Santi hums his approval behind him.
“Yeah, yeah, just— just two, give me two and I’ll be good.”
“What do you say, papi?”
And Jesus, this is the most Frankie’s said all night and it has your toes curling.
“Please, Frankie.”
He makes a patronizing, satisfied noise that makes you want to hide but also expose yourself even more. You want to give him everything, him and Santi, let them use you to get their pleasure however they want.
But then Fish groans, and you see Santi’s arm twisting behind him, reaching for that perfect spot. He makes a mess squirting lube out onto his fingers, and you at least have enough control of your faculties to lift your sac out of the way so Frankie can spread it across your hole.
It twitches under his fingers, begging, and so are you, just incoherent babbles as he teases you, toys with you. You think you maybe could wait him out, knowing he doesn’t get his until his cock is pressed inside you, but you don’t want to.
“Fuck,” you whimper, “please fuck me.”
“Yeah, good boy, there you are.”
You open your eyes at Santi’s voice.
“Give him what he wants, Fish. Give it to him so I can fuck you.”
Two fingers, right off the bat, pressed in slowly but surely in one swoop to the knuckle. You cry out, reaching for purchase and finding the bedsheets to twist into your clenched fists.
“You’re okay, you can take it, right?”
And it’s so goddamn mind-blowing, Santi talking you through it with Frankie’s fingers deep inside you.
You nod, opening your eyes again to look up at him. His eyes are so dark, and he’s stroking his thick cock as he continues stretching Fish out, and he looks hungry. He licks his lips and watches where Frankie’s fucking into you, boring holes where you’re connected. You have to reach down with your free hand and squeeze the base of your prick to get yourself together.
It doesn’t take long for you to adjust, to relax around his digits with a few deep breaths. He praises you, that’s it, take ‘em so well, wanna be fucked so bad don’t you? Your head spins with it as he works you open. Little by little your legs spread wider for him, hips canting up to direct him to the spot inside you that you want him to reach so desperately.
But he doesn’t. Once it’s obvious you’re ready to take him, he slips his fingers out and wipes the residue on the inside of your thigh.
“Gonna take me now?”
It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, as he grips behind your knees and pushes them to your chest. You answer anyway, your own voice so foreign to your ears as you plead for him.
Santi shushes you, and that familiar noise is calming enough to bring you back down to Earth, where he’s resting behind Frankie, one hand caressing his chest while the other grips his waist.
“Wanna be inside you, Fish,” he mumbles, nose pressed behind his ear, lips teasing his earlobe.
Fish’s eyes close, but he guides the head of his dick to your entrance and sinks in, blinding pressure as the head of him stretches you wide. When it slips past, you both gasp, and Santi groans into Frankie’s neck as he watches.
It feels like years, waiting for him to seat himself all the way inside you. It burns in the best way, friction that has goosebumps dotting every square inch of skin.
But then his thighs reach the backs of yours. He curses, moves your legs out of the way so he can cover your body with his own. Santi’s gaze is heavy where it falls, the place you and Frankie are fused together, as he spreads a healthy dollop of lube over his prick.
“Ready for me, baby?”
It’s palpable, the way the energy of the room shifts when Santi presses closer behind Frankie. Like he’s about to step off a ledge, Fish’s eyes widen and he looks at you with his brows drawn up tight. You reach for his curls, run your fingers through them, scrape your nails across his scalp in hopes that it evens out his breathing a bit.
Past Frankie’s shaking form, Santi’s expression is nearly identical. His bottom lip is caged between his teeth, brow furrowed, shoulders squared. His eyes flicker to you, and his features soften just a fraction before his hips begin to press forward.
Frankie sobs at first contact. His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. His cock is jerking inside you, rhythmic pulses as you watch Santi’s hips slowly inch forward.
“Relax for me, Fish. Deep breaths, baby. I’ve got you, take it for me.”
Santi sounds so wrecked. His voice is wispy, and so deep you can hardly hear from the bass in it. He’s never really sounded this way before, and the reality of this entire situation makes you clench around Frankie’s throbbing cock.
Santi curses in whispers, and you watch the sweat from his forehead drip down, between his eyes, down his nose, and drip onto Frankie’s heated skin. And then Frankie shifts, pulling out of you. And then, you realize, pressing Santi’s cock deeper inside himself.
You groan at the revelation, chase Fish’s hips with your own, a domino effect that sets both of them off as well. It doesn’t take much at all for them to find the right pace, like this is just as natural as everything else they do together. For a while you just take it in, let Frankie get his pleasure from you, let them discover the feeling of being so close to each other after a long while of only imagining.
Santi’s signature filthy mouth doesn’t make an appearance. Instead, he looks stunned silent above the both of you. His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but all that leaves his lips are grunts and groans that Frankie echoes into your sternum. His eyes don’t know where to look, so they float between where he’s fucking Frankie, and your own roaming eyes, and finally land where your hand grips Frankie’s hair.
He lets go of one of Fish’s hips to tangle his fingers with your own, tugging on those chestnut curls. Frankie slams his hips into you at the sensation, bites down on the meat of your pec and keens before he lets Santi’s grip pull his head back.
His eyes are completely fucking black, no iris to be found when his heavy eyelids open to look at you. And it’s a very strange thing, when you watch him look right through you and call out Santi’s name.
Strange, but fucking hot.
“Let it happen, Fish.”
“No. I– I can’t.”
“You can, fuck, don’t hold it. Come inside so I can fuck it out of him.”
Frankie crumbles. You watch it happen, his eyes snapping shut as he chokes on a high-pitched sound. His face twists up, and you feel his hips stutter against you as he starts chanting Santi’s name, over and over. His cock jerks with every wave of his release, and he’s shaking, collapsing dead-weight on top of you.
“That’s it, did so good. Feel so fucking good squeezing me Fish.”
You’re momentarily squished by the weight of two grown men when Santi rests against Frankie’s back. He kisses where he can reach, soothing the place on his scalp where he was tugging at the hairs.
“Mierda, Santi, get off you fucking oaf.”
And it’s cute, the way Frankie gets so grumpy even after he’s just come his brains out. You ruffle his hair, when he’s finally not sandwiched between you two, let him collapse beside you instead with a sweaty arm draped across your middle.
You only have a few moments to appreciate the tenderness before Santi’s lifting your leg onto his shoulder pressing his thick fingers inside you. The noise is obscene, and Santi swears as Frankie’s cum trickles out of you.
You know you’re in for it now. Santi sets his jaw and arranges your hips so he can slide right into you. You moan at the feeling, and the knowledge of where his cock has just been, noises tumbling out of you as he picks up the pace where Frankie left off.
And you almost forget about Fish, caught up in the pleasure of Santi railing you just how he knows you like. But then a warm, trembling hand wraps around your cock, even though Santi’s own are gripping onto you tight, and it’s heaven.
“Let me see you come,” Frankie says, voice all hoarse and worn out.
You whine, loll your head to the side to look at him.
But this time Santi’s hand is grabbing you, just shy of too rough when he takes your chin in his hand.
“You look at me. Look at me when I make you come, papi.”
And you take it as an order, because Frankie’s hand speeds up and squeezes tighter, and Santi’s fucking into you deep and fast like he does when he’s about to come.
You shake with it when it finally happens. Your spend splashes down Fish’s knuckles, up your stomach, your chest, christ some of it even lands on your chin. And you know you’re babbling but you don’t know what words you’re using, only know that they come from high in your throat as you gasp for air.
Santi follows you so closely, burying himself impossibly deep as he releases. You hear Frankie encouraging him, but the sound is miles away as your head swims in that familiar, blissful place.
When the ringing in your ears settles, and your vision unblurs, and all your nerve endings don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore, Santi’s cock has been replaced by his tongue. You give a weak protest at the overstimulation as his greedy mouth licks the mess out of you. It doesn’t matter, he comes up for air just as soon as you realize where he’s at.
Your bleary eyes watch as Santi leans over you, grabs Fish’s face in his hands and tugs at his bottom lip with one of his thumbs. Frankie opens his mouth, obedient as ever, and then a mix of Santi’s cum and his own is tumbling from Santi’s lips into Fish’s mouth.
Once the damage has been done, an image that will forever be burned into your mind, Santi lets his lips press against Frankie’s. He kisses him deep but slow, savoring the concoction of tastes, until Frankie has to lean back for air.
And then it’s silent, and still, and a pit of dread makes itself known in your gut in record time.
“I’ll grab us some towels. Don’t either of you move a muscle.”
Frankie huffs but stays put. You shake out some of the tensed-up muscles in your legs, grasping for something to say to break the tension.
Turns out you don’t have to.
“Bossy little prick,” Frankie mumbles.
It makes a giggle bubble up out of you, even though it’s not even that funny. You suppose the nervous energy needed out somehow.
“Don’t know what you see in him,” you agree.
Frankie hums, tilts his head like he’s contemplating it.
“I’m kidding. He’s sweet. You’re a lucky guy, so is he.”
You’re interrupted when Santi reenters, two fluffy towels in hand. You tidy up as best you can, then sigh when you no longer have anything to occupy your hands with.
“Stay the night?”
And this time, those familiar words are uttered by Frankie. It surprises you. For a moment you think he’s just being nice, appeasing you. But his brown eyes do that same thing that Santi’s do, where they get all wide and watery and it’s impossible to say no.
So you snuggle under the covers, and it’s a bit awkward at first with an extra set of limbs. Santi takes his coveted position as big spoon, but this time behind Fish. Then Frankie coaxes you closer, a hand at your back to urge you to rest your head on his outstretched arm.
The three of you talk about how hard you’re all going to sleep, and you close your eyes and listen to two other sets of breaths. You let it lull you to the edge of consciousness. Just before you slip under, Santi’s voice is deep and smooth.
“Te amo.”
And Frankie’s whisper is just as silky.
“Te amo.”
—
In the morning, you all wake up slow, and take care of business, and mosey out into the kitchen. It’s natural to watch Frankie make eyes at Santi over his eggs, but you know that Santi’s routine walk to your Uber will be anything but.
Their apartment door slams heavy behind you two as you head to the normal pick-up spot.
“So this is probably it, huh?”
You have to force yourself to look at Santi’s face, squinting in the mid-morning sun.
His brows draw up, and you really hope he doesn’t make this anymore awkward than it needs to be.
“It doesn’t have to be, no.”
His head shakes back and forth with his declaration, and you almost flinch when he reaches for your hand.
“Listen. Give us some time, you know? Let us… figure… this out. Once we settle, I wanna see you again. Fish does too.”
You’re sure your face is doing something funny, because Santi laughs and pushes you.
Writing TF 141 X M! Reader angst because I can't keep myself from thinking gut wrenching "what if I wrote this " thoughts but the more I write I'm like LMAO WAIT THATD BE GOOD HURT
Anyways angsty one-shot coming up soon. Also working on my requests but I feel like I should work on the thing that brings me the most dopamine first (fucking ironic isn't it?)
Also thank yall for all the love on my posts, it gives me happy chemicals
❥ Summary: Yamaguchi with a intimidating ghotic s/o
❥ Warnings: People being mean and ignorant, mention of panic attack and anxiety.
❥ Request by anon: hi love!! i was wondering if you could do a oneshot of yamaguchi and a gothic male reader? where yams is intimidated by the reader but then when he becomes the reader's friend, he notices how caring/loving he actually is and lowkey falls in love? :') thank you!
Hey, thank you for ordering! Before you read, it's good to know that this one-shot wasn't corrected and that Shiro struggled a lot with this, so it may not be good quality, but we hope you enjoy and that you come back soon! (We're also really sorry for ending like this, but Shiro had no idea what to do anymore)
In a weekend Y/N was buying groceries, somethings ended in home so he had to buy more, the boy didn't even noticed that some of them were ending, so it was a surprise to open a cabinet and not find things. People always looked at him and judged, sometimes old ladies came and said he was going to hell, simply because of his clothes, but the majority was afraid of him because the way he dressed and his expressions.
In the area of fruits and vegetables Y/N saw a pretty cute person, brown hair with two strands on top of their head that moved while they picked things, cute freckles in his face and simple clothes. The said person was coming in his direction, not necessarily to talk to him, but he internally freaked out, so he turned and tried to focus on buying his things.
Already with everything he needed, Y/N was already on the line to the cashier, when he noticed the same person from before right on his front. Gathering courage, the boy called attention of the person.
— Excuse-me — The person looked back and Y/N freaked out, totally having a internal gay panic and forgetting what was going to say. So the person on his front got really scared and tought he was mad.
— I-i-i'm sorry! I d-don't know what I-i did, b-but- — The person was totally red, really nervous and shaking a lot, so Y/N tried to calm them, even tho he was also panicking.
— No! You didn't do anything! — Trying to calm them, he just got the situation worse. The line was walking, so people beside them started to scream and proclaim about they getting to much time to move, both excused and walked, stopping the conversation since was already the person time to pay for the objects.
After that one week passed, when Y/N saw the same person on his school, so with courage he tried to talk to them, but they simply runed away, letting the boy there speechless. But he didn't gave up, trying to figure out who this person was, in the next day he discovered that they're a first year, so the search was having progress. With some more days, the boy finally knew who this perso was, Yamaguchi Tadashi from the volleyball club.
Y/N planned to go to their volleyball club and try to talk with the person, that he discovered to use he and him pronouns. But unfortunately something happend and he couldn't go, letting him to just do it after the weekend, so he passed the entire weekend anxious, imagining ways of talking with the cute boy.
The day finally came and he was more anxious then ever.
"I'm not going to ask him to marry me, why I'm like this?" The boy thought, standing in front of the door like a statue. When someone called his attention from behind, a tall blond person using glasses, this person was accompanied by the cute boy, that got really red and nervous when noticed him.
— If you gonna be a statue, at least don't be in the way — The blonde said, taking Y/N out of the trance and going to the side, letting them pass and go into the gym. The boy came in after the duo, decided to watch them train and at the end talk with Yamaguchi.
All the boys were suspicious of you, Yachi almost having a heart attack and hiding from you, the atmosphere was awkward. No one knew what you wanted, but that didn't stoped them from practicing, especially Hinata who was happy that someone was so interested on the team to watch them practice.
At the end of the practice you came to talk with Yamaguchi, that still with the blonde, so you sent your "death glare" which for you was a normal one, but people were scared of it. The blonde quickly understood what you wanted, a little hesitant of letting the best friend alone with the scary person, but they created a excuse and distanced themselves.
— Excuse-me, you're Yamaguchi right? — The volleyball player panicked, thinking that Y/N was mad at him at the point of going after him in the club.
— Y-y-yes — The other boy said shaking a little.
— We met at the grocery store the other day, if you don't remember — Y/N started, getting more nervous while talking — I thought you're really cute, so I wanted to ask for your number — With the courage that he doesn't know where came from, he finally said the words.
But with this the freckled boy got more red, if that's even possible, stuttering more and almost having a panic attack. Y/N tries his best to calm down the other, what worked a little and they exchanged the numbers, with a promise that they would talk later.
In the next months, the two boys talked a lot with each other, using text and even calls. They also spend the lunch break together, with Tsukishima too since he is Yamaguchi's best friend. And turned to be Y/N's friend too, the gothic boy don't know if it's because of the blonde best friend or because Tsukishima tolorates him more than the others, what's a really rare thing.
With time Yamaguchi started to notice that Y/N isn't bad or intimidating as he thought, what made he feel bad for judging the boy just because of his appearance. But the volleyball player also realized that he felt for the boy and it was a gigantic fall. Now he has no idea what to do, noticing his feelings it means that someone else could already noticed too, so he got more nervous around Y/N and the other boy didn't understand why Yamaguchi started to avoid him again, so he asked Tsukishima for help.
— I can't say anything because it's his life, he decides if he wants to tell you or not, but try talking to him in private and confess yours obivious feelings — Was what Tsukishima said, Y/N didn't understand much, but tried to follow this advice.
But just after they met, Yamaguchi ran from him again, so it was really difficult talk to him, what made the entire volleyball team try to help. What worked, they finally had some time alone so they could talk.
— Yamaguchi, did I do something wrong for you to avoid me? — Was the first thing that Y/N said when the others boys left the room — I don't know what I did, but I want to fix it, I don't want you to avoid me like the plague.
— NO! I'm sorry, but you didn't nothing wrong, it's just- — Y/N waited patiently for him to finish, don't wanting to put more pressure in the boy and make him anxious — It's just that... you're so beautiful, gentle an-and perfect that I don't know how to act with those feelings, you make me so nervous an- — Yamaguchi's face got really red and by his expression, he didn't meant to say all that.
— It's okay Yamaguchi, I like you too! — Y/N responded.
However, I have a few things in the drafts that I am trying to get out this week and schedule for this weekend as I may be attending a furcon type thing near me with a friend.
Current WIPs/Requests/Ideas:
TF 141 x M! Reader w/ medical knowledge
TF 141 x M! Reader wearing a dress (one for all my femboys 😚✊) (it's me, I'm the femboy)
Undecided TF 141 x M!Reader long fic
Reminder: my requests are open! If you want something, gimme gimme 😩 im so down with whatever you can give me
