#sw!Pope

[psychedelic-ink]

Watercolor Eyes ║ Santiago "Pope" Garcia

a/n: this fic is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough it was such a joy to read, and after reading her headcanons about the other sw! triple frontier boys I couldn't stop thinking of santi <33 thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of this world and write for it! I hope you enjoy 💕

and special thank to my bby @inklore who supports me always and beta'd this fic for me, ilysm 💖

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut with little plot, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: after another day of lack of customers and loneliness, you come across a flyer that might grant you a night of relief and pleasure.

warnings: sex worker!santi, oral (receiving & first time), dirty talking, bdsm dynamics, soft dom!santi, sub!reader, reader showing brat tendencies, brat tamer!santi, piv, use of a condom, squirting, the use of sir, swearing, orgasm denial/cumming on command, soft bondage, dry humping, teasing, begging, aftercare

Watercolor Eyes Masterlist

The neon letters shine loud and bright within the night: Cafe Watercolor. Seeing the pink sign used to make you smile, it was a sign that represented your dreams, your hopes, your future. Now it only symbolizes the harsh truth of reality. You’re a failure. Unable to get your small bakery cafe off the ground. You sit behind the counter, head propped up with your elbow as you look outside with a bored gaze. The air conditioning hisses, mixing with the coffee shop playlist you prepared the day before you opened up your little cafe. The tunes of a melancholic piano overlaps the sound of the air conditioner, the vocals of “The head and the heart” filling the small space. 

Summers in Florida consist of humidity, rain and the burning sun. To you, it’s hell on heart. But as someone who always felt more focused with the pitter patters of raindrops, it wasn’t that bad. With a broken sigh, you watch a couple, hand in hand, soaked to the marrow, running to the bus stop. The pouring rain should’ve been any coffee shop owners bread and butter, people searched for shelter, the scent of coffee and sweets was always enticing enough to beckon them inside. Sadly, they either ran past the shop, much similarly to the couple from before, or took shelter at the coffee shop right across from you. It was brighter, bigger, and had all of those fancy new drinks. Right now your menu is limited, you focus on the baking aspect more, there lays your true passion, but you enjoyed a good cup of coffee as well so you threw that into the mix too. 

And you know it’s good coffee. Those who bothered to enter would be astounded by the rich flavors and the free baked goods you threw in. You just need them to take one bite. After that they came again and again. 

But a couple of regulars isn’t enough to keep your business afloat, not in this economy. 

You could only hire two baristas, and since they were underpaid grad students, you didn’t blame them for not wanting to stick their neck out for the small shop. They were already juggling two other jobs. 

Your family warned you; Don’t do it, they had said, You didn’t waste years of study just to open a coffee shop. Since you were a kid they wanted you to delve into the cruel world of academia. You studied archaeology, it was fun. Obviously. Who wouldn’t like to dig and unravel the remnants of a ruined civilization? But your heart always ached for something else. You didn’t want to waste your life competing with friends and others, you didn’t enjoy your classmates viewing you as a threat just because you got a good grade. You hated always having to look over your shoulder, worrying if the person that smiled at you genuinely meant it or not. It was chaotic, stress inducing. The job itself was fun, but the backstage wasn’t. 

So you quit right after finishing grad school. Sure, maybe you should’ve stuck it to your parents and quit sooner, but you assumed if you actually finished studying they would finally let you go. 

Of course they didn’t. 

Shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. You might as well close up shop. You don’t need your electricity bill to get even higher. Heart broken, you walk to the large window, the day's special baked goods written on the window. You almost cry when you wipe it off the board, you worked really hard on those croissants, you will have to take them home, again. At least your neighbors were happy about the free desserts. 

The rain had stopped. Lonely water drops sliding down the glass, you see that the couple is still waiting for their bus. When the guy leaned in for a kiss, laughing and wet, your heart breaks a little. How long has it been since your last date? When has anyone ever looked at you like that? No one, that’s who. You had one lousy boyfriend and a couple of bad dates, after graduating your whole love and effort had gone into the shop. Needless to say you didn’t have much time to scroll the endless fuckboys of Tinder. 

Tearing your gaze away from the couple’s private moment, you turn off the neon light, and push back the misplaced chairs. The silver lining is that you don’t have to do much in terms of cleaning. You’ll wipe the counter, pull out the plugs just in case, and that’ll be it. You already left the kitchen spotless after baking, which you’re glad for since now you can just go home. 

Your chest heaves as you pick off the tray of croissants and package them to take to your neighbors. It's like this every night, your need to cry doubling tenfold whenever you take something you make home. You know they’re good. You just need people to give you a chance. You grab the last croissant for yourself and bite into it, dinner is settled. As you chew you moan at the taste of vanilla custard and the berry glaze, the flaky pastry crumbles, it gets on your clothes, sticks to the roof of your mouth. With the back of your hand you wipe your mouth and pat yourself down. Now you can leave. 

Before leaving you take one last look, the passing cars casted their light inside, moving along and leaving the shop in darkness once more. Just like you. But it won’t last like this for long. It can’t. You won’t allow it. 

Locking, and checking by rattling the door, you stuff the keys into your pockets and head home. The rain has faded but it’s still quite windy. The leaves of palm trees echoe and you see the remnants of flyers ghosting across the pavement. You see the silhouette of your bus, your steps pick up and when you realize you’re about to miss it, you run– 

You’ve barely taken a couple of long strides before something sticks to your face, you collapse on the wet ground, mud and water seeping into your clothes as pain spreads across your chest. 

Immediately upon getting up you see that the bus is gone, disappeared into the wind. 

“Shit!” ignoring the state of your clothes you stomp your feet like a child throwing a tantrum. You viciously tear the piece of paper that led to your demise and glare at it. “Fucking– I’m going to curse the company who made this damn…flyer,” 

Your eyebrows rise with curiosity. Looking down, you see a glossy flyer between your fingertips, or rather the remnants of it. The half bottom rips and falls to the concrete with a loud splat. However, the thing that piques your interest is that this particular flyer doesn’t belong to a company. It’s for a very specific service provided for lonely people like you. You drag your gaze across the men that decorate the poster, all of them looking very very handsome. It’s been a while since the color had faded from the flyer but you assume it’s from the sudden rain pour. 

You should really just throw the poster away, walk your sweet ass to the bus stop and head home. 

Instead, your eyes gaze at the number written in a bold font. Lucky you that the number was written on the top part of the flyer and not the bottom. Before the other bus arrives, you hurriedly pull out your phone, also soaked from the fall, and type the number, cursing every time your phone gets the number confused due to your wet fingers. 

When you finally succeed in putting the numbers in, you shove the flyer into your bag to throw out for later and very carefully make your way to the bus stop. 

You’ve been staring at your phone for about an hour. 

You’d taken a brisk shower, gave the rest of the croissants to your neighbors, in which they thanked you, inviting you in and after dodging that bullet, you finally managed to relax on the couch. 

However, what you’re doing isn’t really relaxing. 

The black written numbers start to shake, your eyes stinging from staring at the screen for too long. Are you really going to do this? Are you really so lonely that you need to pay someone to spend time with you? Well yes actually, you are. It’s not like you’re shameful about asking for a service, a couple of your friends had done it, it’s just that you didn’t really know what to say when you called. Did you just say what you want? Do you need to ask for a specific man? Will it be safe? What if you get an STD among everything else? 

With a loud groan, you throw your head back and let your hand fall to your lap. This is iditoic. You’re idiotic. It’s just a simple call. If whoever is on the other line sounds shady you can just hang up and pretend this never happened. Yeah. That’s it. It’s just a phone call. They can’t see you. Or force you to continue to talk. You have the power of the red button, you’ll be alright. 

With a sudden surge of bravery, you raise your head and make the call. You quickly put it on speaker and anxiously listen to it ring. It feels like an eternity until someone finally picks up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit– The voice that comes from the other line actually sounds good, honestly you were expecting it to be a pervert heavily breathing down the line but this is a very pleasant surprise. 

When the honey-like voice speaks again, he sounds amused, as if you’re the funniest thing that happened to him all day. 

“I can hear you breathing, you know? I won’t bite, promise,” he chuckles, breathy and airy. “I mean, unless that’s what you’re asking for,” 

“Y-Yeah sorry,” you stumble with your words. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to remember the name of the place. “Is…this Pope’s?” 

“It is and I’m Santiago, but since you sound so sweet you can just call me Santi,” 

Your body heats up at his words, this is probably the most flirtatious thing anyone has said to you in months, even if technically he’s just saying that because you’re a potential customer. Your thumb rubs the corner of the smooth surface of the phone, you don’t know what to say next. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to say,” 

“That’s alright, I have all the time in the world,” 

You relax at the playful tint of his voice, a soft smile ghosts across your lips. 

“Do you really?” 

“Well no, but you can still take your time. I can also ask you some questions to ease you in?” 

“Sure?” 

You hate how unsure you sound of yourself, but also you don’t think you can hide it. You genuinely feel lost, mind wandering about how others acted during these calls, you bet they knew what they wanted. They most certainly aren’t like you, causing problems by being shy and calling without looking up what to say beforehand. Damn, you really should’ve googled it first. You’re positive you can find a wikihow article about this. 

“Okay let’s start out easy then, why did you call Pope’s?” 

“For…company,” 

“Just for that?” 

You can see his smile through his voice, you bet he has an amazing one. You suck in a breath, chest puffing up as you ponder over what your next sentence should be. 

“No, I would like…you know,” closing your eyes, you swallow. “Sex,” 

You half expect him to laugh but he doesn’t, a soft hum echoes and he follows up with another question. 

“Alright, the follow up questions might be a bit awkward but I need to ask–” 

“Awkward?”

Your panicked tone seeps through the line and reaches Santi’s ear drums. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be holding your hand through it all, cariño. They’re mostly questions about your medical history,” 

You nod then remembering he can’t see you quickly add, “Of course, thank you, Santi,”

When the questions are done, you check your phone only to see that an hour has already passed, much to your surprise, it felt shorter than that. Santi had asked you everything. Even things you never would’ve thought about asking a partner. And honestly it relieved you that he was so detailed with the background checks, just by his voice you can tell that he cares about what he does and for both parties concerned. It was nice. It reminds you a bit about yourself and your own work ethics. 

“Okay I think that’s everything,” he states. “Do you want to continue with this?” 

The uncertainty you feel comes rushing back, an encore, if you will. 

“Yeah, I do. I-If everything's good,” 

“Everything’s perfect,” you hear the gentle tapping of a pen. “And I think I already have the perfect match for you. Where are you? An otel?” 

“Uh…” you look around your apartment. “I’m actually at my apartment…will that be a problem?” 

“If it’s not a problem for you it’s not a problem for us,” he answers, voice a bit more timid than before. “But I will need an address, but if that’s going to be an issue I can look up nearby motels if you tell me which part of the city you’re in?” 

“N-No, it’s fine,” 

As you give out your address the red alarms in your brain screeches at you. It’s loud and mind numbing. Rightfully so. Santi tells you that it’ll take about half an hour for them to arrive and he hangs up, when he does, what you’ve just done dawns on you. You gave your address… to a stranger on the phone. And not just any address, your home address. You really are fucking stupid. 

You could’ve at least taken up Santi’s offer to find you a motel nearby, this is your fucking home. 

“Okay, you’ll get through this. Just deep breaths, take deep breaths…” 

Placing a hand on your chest, you inhale and exhale about five to ten times. Your chest rises under your palm, you can feel your heartbeat. Everything will be alright. You have a pan that’s perfect for smacking people, better yet you have rolling pins of all sizes. You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay. 

You get up and head to the bedroom, it’s a mess, sadly your home didn’t get the same squeaky treatment as your shop. 

Everything will be okay. 

The doorbell rings and your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. After tidying up your room, and yourself; you shaved with hurry, then put on a bra and underwear that matched in color. It’s the little things. You had a couple of toys you enjoyed, if he failed the two of you could always use those. A single woman has needs after all, and after checking the batteries you placed them into the drawer of your bedside table. 

Another ring follows and you hurry to the door. You might be wearing matching underwear but other than that you hadn’t put on anything fancy; your favorite oversize shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. 

Clearing your throat, you call out to the person waiting on the other side. 

“Who is it?” 

“Pope’s,” 

This is actually happening. He’s actually here, and not a minute late, or early. 

You open the door with trembling hands, the man on the other side doesn’t move an inch as you observe him, he only smiles, shooting you a quick nod and a playful wink. He stays there until you fully open the door, even then he doesn’t budge, he waits patiently while your curious gaze rakes his body. His eyes are as rich as the coffee you brew, lashes long, soft looking. You see a bit of gray mixed in his dark hair, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles at you, lips lush, made for kissing and pleasuring another. For a moment you want to reach out and drag your fingers across his jawline, you wonder if it can actually cut into your skin. His five o’clock shadow will definitely chafe between your thighs and the phantom of the feeling is enough to have your insides clench. The veins peeking above his skin meanders down into his black fitted shirt, you want to see more. 

He clears his throat, smile widening into a grin. 

“Can I come in?”

You know that voice, how could you not when you gave very detailed information about your sex life to that same smooth baritone. 

“Santi?” 

You might be imagining it, but you think his eyes sparkle when you recognize him. His excitement makes your lips break out into a smile. 

“The one and only,” 

Heart thrumming madly in your chest, you move out of the way. He continues to wait, an eyebrow raised as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks you up and down. What was he waiting for? Tilting your head, you answer his gleaming gaze with your confused one. As an answer, he raises both eyebrows, smiles and tilts his head to the other side. 

Oh. OH.

He’s waiting for you to verbally invite him in. 

“C-Come in,” 

His smile never fading, he takes one long stride into your apartment. It’s elegant, graceful, and you can’t stop staring. 

Santi quickly does a once over of your home as he toes off his shoes. Oddly enough, it feels like him being there completes a picture. Maybe it’s because you’ve been lonely for so long but it just seems like he belongs. You push the door as he turns to look at you, if he smiles at you any longer you might melt into a puddle. 

“Should we…” your gaze falls to the floor, and with that see his socked feet; black with colorful polka dots. “Nice socks,” 

“Thanks,” he grins. “It was a gift from a close friend,” 

“You must really like socks then,” 

“Among other things,” 

His lashes flutter, eyes soft like clouds. It takes every ounce of your self control not to swoon, he feels like he ripped a whole out of your dreams and escaped. 

“So, bedroom?” 

Your voice gives away how nervous you are, you almost breathe out a sigh of relief when Santi shakes his head. You still have no idea what to do. And you already feel vulnerable as it is, you’d probably bust a vein if you also stripped in front of him. 

“Loving the enthusiasm but maybe we should talk a bit first,” his eyes linger on the couch. “I still don’t know what you want yet,” 

He sits and you follow his trail, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. 

“I thought I already said it on the phone,” you whine, thoughts swirling. “Please don’t make me say it again, I’m already plenty embarrassed,” 

“Don’t be,” his stern tone takes you by surprise, he leans, arms resting above his knees as he stares you directly in the eyes. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed, it’s completely normal,” 

“Really?” 

Santi grins, eyes sparkling. 

“If it wasn’t Pope’s would be closed already,” 

“I guess you’re right,” a faint chuckle falls from your lips and upon hearing the sound he leans back, getting more comfortable. “So what do you want to know?” 

“Things you enjoy during intercourse,” he thoughtfully rubs his chin. “Kinks, fetishes, anything you can think of. If you want to roleplay or not, anything,” 

“Anything?” 

“Well, there are a couple of things I say no to but I don’t think you’re going to say any of them, but if you do I’ll let you know,” 

He winks and your lungs nearly explode. You rapidly blink at him, lowering your gaze, you think about his question. In terms of kinks you actually hadn’t tried out many, you’re curious about a lot of things but never knew how to ask for them. Exhaling, you fiddle with your fingers and look up, your cheeks aflame. 

“I always wanted to try…BDSM stuff but I don’t know if I’ll actually like it,” 

This seems to spike his interest, the curve of his eyebrow reaches all the way to his hairline, lips curling mischievously. 

“Have you tried anything before? Bondage, blindfold, or whatever?” 

“Uh…not really,” you nervously chew your bottom lip, legs squeezing together. “I never really brought it up before and my ex, well, he didn’t seem to be that interested. He tried to finger me, well not really, just attempted to rub my clit from over…my underwear, it kinda hurt actually, hated it. It's fine when I do it but maybe I just don't like it when others do it. So I’m not sure if I’ll even like the things I think about,”  

“Sounds like an asshole,” 

Santi’s sudden change in demeanor takes you by surprise. He seems actually angry, but also, slightly surprised by your sudden burst of honesty. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t want to overshare, or upset him. Before you can apologize he cuts you off. 

“We can try the things you’re curious about, we’ll start slow, obviously, and establish a safeword,” he looks you up and down. “Do you know what a safeword is?” 

“I do,” 

“Good girl,” 

Your heart skips a beat or two, a gasp parting your lips, you stare at him wide-eyed. He glows at your reaction, sucking in his bottom lip, he brings his perfect teeth on top of it. 

“You like that?” 

You nod. 

“Alright, I’ll let you pick the safeword,” 

“How about….” your eyes drag back to his feet. “Socks?” 

He snorts, and you grin, “Socks? You’re unbelievable, how about the word for slowing down?” 

“Curtain,” 

Turning his head, he looks at the dark red curtains you own, then shrugs. 

“Fine by me. Do you have any idea what you want to try?” 

“Not really…sorry,” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” his smile grows soft and it seems like he wants to reach out to you but decides against it at the last minute. “What is it that sparked your interest?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know– I guess the idea of someone taking care of me, having control and knowing what’s best for me. I just, don’t really want to think, if that makes sense–” 

“Loud and clear. I have a general idea of what you need, unless you have anything specific in mind?” 

When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you shake your head and he nods. 

“Okay then, we can get started, if you’re ready,” 

When he gets up and extends a hand, you’re sweating buckets, beads of perspiration coating your skin. You look up to see his calm expression, a soft smile and adoring eyes, you take the offered limb and lead him to the bedroom. 

Your stomach still churns with anxiety but as his fingers squeezes around yours, you know that he’s got you. 

“Strip and lay on the bed,” 

You didn’t expect the mood to change so suddenly. His harsh tone sends a shiver down your spine, wetness spreading between your legs. While he isn’t looking at you, Santi starts to unbutton his shirt, and when he notices you’re frozen with a slight tremor to your hands, he walks up to you and cups your cheeks. You lean into his touch, heart stammering as you close your eyes.  

His lips find yours. It’s tender, soft and when he licks your mouth for permission, you greedily open wide for him. A moan seeps into the kiss, taking the opportunity your open mouth provides, he licks your tongue, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Your heart swells. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, and it never felt like this. Santi pulls away, lips glistening and eyes full of understanding.

“Do you still want to do this?”

You breathe out, “Yes,” 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Socks,” 

He can’t help the way a giggle rattles his chest, the melody reaching your ears. Leaning in, Santi playfully rubs his nose against yours. 

“Strip for me then,” he hums. “I need to rectify a wrong,” 

You want to ask what he means by that, but deciding that you’ll find out soon enough, you head to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. Still feeling a bit self conscious, you leave your underwear and bra on. You also have an ulterior motive, you secretly want him to be the one to remove the last articles of clothing. You seem to get your message across. He licks his lips, left only in his boxer shorts, he crawls between your legs. 

You don’t know what to expect when he slides your underwear down your legs and throws it to the floor. You certainly don’t know what to expect when his mouth inches closer to your begging heat, wet and wanting. 

You’ll never forget the moment his tongue languidly slides between your folds. 

“Oh fuck–” 

Your back arches, mind and body confused, your fingers clutch the sheets. His lips close around your folds, tongue deep inside as his hands steady your thrashing. You barely hear him letting out a satisfied hum, the vibrations shooting a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. It’s mind numbing. Amazing. His tongue is pure sin, soft and velvety. You’re lowkey pissed this is the first time you’re feeling so good. Santi relentlessly mouths at your core, lapping up every ounce of slick that makes its way out of you. Your finger finds the back of his head, pulling at the soft curls. He parts for you and you whine, hips wiggling up as you beg for him to go on. 

Disapproving, Santi clicks his tongue. He peels your hand away from his head, and sends you a warnful gaze. 

“Behave,” 

“Y-Yes–” between your lustful haze you gasp out a word you don’t expect. “–Sir,” 

You have no idea where that came from but he doesn’t question it, instead, when you pull your hand back up to your hip, he breathes out a kiss into your inner thigh. He sucks in your clit and flicks his tongue, you let out a sharp exhale, eyes squeezing shut. It’s only been what, ten minutes? You’re about to cum all over him. 

He looks up at you with half lidded eyes, you feel him smiling as he flattens the wet muscle, dragging it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. However, nothing prepares you for his fingers. Your whole body jolts when he traces your entrance with two thick digits, playfully pushing only the tip in. Before you know it, your hand is buried deep in his hair once again. 

This time Santi yanks it away, and before you know it his face is hovering an inch above from yours, both your hands pinned above your head, his lips damp and swollen. You swallow upon seeing the annoyance lingering in his eyes, legs trembling with heat building between them. 

“Didn’t I just say to behave?” he snarls, pupils dilated. 

Something mischievous rolls in your gut, with a sudden surge of bravery, you challenge his angry gaze with your own. 

“So? What are you going to do about it?” 

It’s so minimal, the flare you see in his eyes, slightly widening. If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. 

“Don’t tempt me, cariño,” he leans closer, breath ghosting across your burning skin. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” 

A moment of pause. He’s giving you a moment to object, to use the safeword. You don’t. Instead, you wiggle your arms, trying to peel away from his iron grasp. His lips twist into a devious smirk, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch the edge of his teeth. 

“Alright, let’s play then,” 

The air is forcibly pushed out of your lungs when you find yourself flipped over to your stomach. His hands moving across your body, you find your knees tucked under your thighs, hands held behind your back. He shifts behind you, holding your wrists with one hand, he leans off of the bed and scoops something off the floor. You feel the soft fabric of his shirt wrapping around your wrists, keeping them completely in place. 

Santi’s chest is flushed against your back when he whispers in your ear. 

“Look at you, all nicely wrapped, the perfect present,” 

You struggle against the binds, a groan rattling in your chest as you figure you won’t be getting out of them anytime soon. With a huff, you bury your face into the pillows. 

“Not fair,” your voice comes muffled. “It’s not my fault if it feels good, it’s my first time,” 

He coos, and rubs the small of your back, “I know, baby. I know. And that’s precisely why I need you to stay put,” 

His sinful mouth finds you again. Slurps and groans fill the bedroom. You feel incredibly self conscious as he parts your cheeks but it all fades away with his tongue plunging deep into your core. With two fingers, he draws quick, small circles around your clit, making your body sing with pleasure. Turning your head, you attempt to breathe in a bit of oxygen, but all of it leaves you at the same time when you moan out his name, again and again and again. 

“Fuck– Fuck, Santi…” you whine, pushing into him. A warning growl rips from his throat. “S-Sorry it just feels,” you gasp. “It feels so good, I-I think I’m gonna actually cum,” 

Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips and wets the pillow underneath. You want to look at him, watch him eat you out like a starved man but you can’t. The fog lifts only for a moment when he stops, only to press his lips into you again, the bed begins to sway, only a bit, a rocking sensation if you will. You attempt to mouth out a question, but cry out instead. 

“Not yet,” he rasps into you, the rocking of the bed picks up. “Wait for me a bit more baby, just a bit more,” 

Wait for him? What– Wait– 

“Are you–” you’re cut off by your own moan caused by an especially harsh pinch on your abused clit. The pain makes you tingle with pleasure, eyes rolling back, you forget your question. You start to beg. “Please, sir, please let me cum– I need to cum, please please please,” 

“Hold it in,” 

The melodic tone of his voice only electrifies you. Tears build up in your eyes as your cunt flutters around him, slick dripping down your thighs. The pleasure buzzes in your ears, body screaming for you to cum, you’re trying to hold it back, you’re trying to be good, his good girl. Fuck– 

“Cum. Now.” 

Before you can even process the words, your body obeys. 

It’s blinding. Breath stopping. Your body tenses, cunt gushing around his tongue and fingers. Your arms forces against the binds made of his shirt, cloth digging into your skin as your body starts to spasm. Both of your moans mix together, composing the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Santi’s eccentric pace becomes slow, sensual. Tongue lazily lapping up everything you have to offer, he eases you down from the high of your ecstasy. You take heavy breaths, head spinning, You breathe out a languid moan, muscles still throbbing with the buzz of pleasure. 

Santi pulls away and you drop to the side, luckily you’re too gone to actually feel embarrassed from falling. You hear his low hum of a chuckle as he crawls closer to you, he unties his shirt from your wrists and gently kneads your biceps. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Y-Yeah,” 

You know that this is just service he provides, but you can’t help but reach out to him, he obliges with a smile and nestles between your arms, kissing your neck gently. A broken sigh falls from your damp lips, he huddles closer, body snug against your own. Mimicking him, you come closer too, your bare thigh grazing against his clothed cock. You still and he looks up to you, brows knitted together. His confusion grows when a grin spreads across your face. 

“Did you cum?” you ask, eyes bright and shiny. 

He clears his throat, lips curling up into an amused smile. Leaning in, he teases your earlobe with his tongue.  

“I might’ve,” 

“Never would have pegged you as someone to be this quick,” you tease, hand sliding between your bodies, you cup his cock, a subtle moan leaving you as you feel how wet he is. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s hot as hell,” 

“Don’t get cocky,” 

He crashes your lips together, large hands cupping your chest and pulling you even closer against the firm frame of his body. His fingers tease your nipples, rolling and pulling them. Your skin tingles, and you whine into the kiss, hips grinding against him. Santi’s lips never leave your own as he lifts himself and pulls you underneath. Your palm still snug against his length, you feel him hardening again. 

Surprised, you break the kiss, a heavy laughter trembling in your chest. With a wide smile, he grins. 

“Told you,” 

“You’re full of surprises,” 

“I am,” he stops for a moment, looking to the side, he looks back at you, seemingly unsure. “Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want to, or if you feel worn out, ” 

“Oh, I’m definitely good for round two,” you purr, brushing your lips against his. “Make me feel whole again,” 

“Fuck, alright– Let me go get a condom really quick,” 

Santi gets up and you realize that you haven’t had the time to properly observe his temple of a body. His back muscles flex as he dips down and grabs his pants, hurriedly searching the pockets for that colorful piece of packaging. The boxers he wears hugs his ass, leaving little imagination to the eye, you’re certain Santi would look good in everything, but right now you think he looks the best naked. He turns on his heel, his chest firm, a bit of fat around his belly but still defined. Eyes going lower, you see his fully erect cock, the darkened tip peeking out of his waistband. You bite the inside of your cheek as you inside clench around nothing, you can’t wait for him to fill you up. 

Before you know it, Santi’s between your legs again, rolling the condom down his impressive length. He’s so thick, thicker than you imagined he would be. Santi notices your gaze, lips playfully pulling up. 

“You think you can take me baby girl? Where’s that confidence from before?” 

“O-Oh…it’s still there just a bit,” you clear your throat. “Shocked,” 

“Word?” 

“Socks,” 

“Good girl,” 

Purring like a cat, you part your arms, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of your neck as he slants himself between your thighs. You adore feeling him this close, his warmth making your heart stutter. He nudges your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your whimpers spiral into moans and he drowns out the noises by claiming your lips. The stretch is addictive, the tingle of being spread wide by someone who knows what he’s doing makes your eyes roll back. Santi inhales you as he pulls back, eyes searching your face. You flutter around him, with the mere sensation of his cock, you grind your hips.

“You good?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can I move?”

“Please, sir,” 

He growls into your skin, the vibration seeping into your body, it makes you tremble as well. When Santi starts to move, all you can do is hold on to him, nails biting into his skin as he slides in and out of you with precision. He breathes raggedly into your flesh, cock hitting your deepest parts with every thrust. You feel as if you can’t control your body, it arches, bends, curls but your brain is completely mush, only pleasure ringing inside. With your moans and whines growing in volume, Santi starts to slam his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin spurs you on further. You scream his name, breathing and panting curse words without knowing. Your heart swells, he makes you feel so good. His thrusts, deep, lasting. You can’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut as the bed rocks into the wall. Your cunt clenched around him, the coil inside you tightens, ready to burst but he’s still going. It feels like he can go on like this for hours. Fuck– 

You hug him tighter, if possible, teeth finding his shoulder, you bite into him. You don’t even know where you are anymore. All you can feel is him. His scent, his body, his sounds. Nothing else. 

“Fuck fuck– Santi– ‘Love you–” 

Your eyes shoot wide open, you see him staring at you, he doesn’t look mad, or weirded out. But still, the panic overwhelms the pleasure, you flail, tears quickly building in your eyes. 

“You love me?” he mutters, one eyebrow elegantly raised. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I didn’t–” 

Santi doesn’t slow down, in fact his hips speed up. He sees your glossy eyes and leans to kiss them both, you feel the throb of his cock, and another moan quickly replaces your frantic apologies. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, mouthing the words into your cheek. “It’s normal. Say whatever you want, it only means that I’m making you feel good. You’re not the only one,” 

Your heart feels like it might stop at any moment, “I’m not?” 

“No,” he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses as he dips between your breasts. He mouths against them, tongue playfully licking the salt of your skin. “So just let go,” 

And you do just that. 

Letting your head fall back, you revel at the way he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around. Your chest heaves with his every shattering thrust, his hand slides between your wet bodies and finds your clit. He rolls the sensitive nub between his fingers. Hallowing his cheeks, he grazes his teeth around your nipple, you chant his name, a string of curses following right after. You have no idea what else you might be saying, you might’ve asked his hand in marriage at this point but you don’t care. You let go. You forget the shop, the insecurities, the loneliness and you just feel. 

It doesn’t take Santi long to wind you up, dangling you off the edge, the heat builds and builds, so much so that it feels like it’s burning. Something besides pleasure swells inside you, something’s coming, you bite back your moans, and slap his back. 

“What is it?” he pants, voice dripping with lust but still full of concern. “Do you want to use the safeword?” 

You furiously shake your head, your lips part with a gasp. 

“It’s– I’m going to cum but– It’s too much, I’m–” 

He presses his lips into your ear, you listen to his breathing, steady and slow, the slide of his cock and move of his fingers rips another groan from you. 

“Let go,” 

Your cunt gushes around him like it never has before, it’s more intense than the first time, it makes you cry, beg. The squelching becomes louder, you’re still coming. He sings a moan into your skin, your cunt throbs at the sound of his voice, it reminds you of the caramel you make. Santi’s movements slow, fast thrust shifting into soft rolls of his hips. Your breath hitches every time his pelvis grazes against your sensitive clit. He pulls you from your dazed state with a soft kiss, both hands coming to lay on each side of your face, thumbs stroking lovingly. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you inhale a deep breath. “Did…did you?” 

A soft chuckle vibrates across your lips, he nuzzles your nose. “I did,” 

You fight the urge to call him back when he pulls away, you haven’t realized how secure you felt under his weight. However, you really need to initiate a war against your inner demons when he lifts himself off of the bed. Carefully removing the condom, he ties the end into a knot and turns to you. 

“Bathroom?” 

“First door on the left,” 

You lay back down as he leaves, hands and arms sprawled above the sheets. Your mind begins to clear, kind of, closing your eyes you can still feel how he felt plowing into you. The fact this is a service is both a pro and a con. A con, because he can’t stay. A pro, because you can call him and ask him over anytime you want to. Well, not really. Maybe once a month, all your money goes to the shop and rent, you wouldn’t be able to hire him. 

You’re surprised at his return, his right hand holding a wet washcloth and the other holding a glass of water. The bed dips under his weight and he grins at your confusion, the towel gently cleaning the mess between your legs. 

“What? Did you think I just left?” 

“I didn’t,” he gives you a look of disbelief and you giggle. “I didn’t really!” 

“Good,” his eyes scan your body, observing every patch of skin. “Does anywhere particularly hurt? Aches?” 

“No,” 

“How do you feel? Mentally?” 

“That’s good too, feel very light,” 

You don’t miss the way he hisses out a breath of relief, “Great,” he checks the watch you hadn’t realized he’s been wearing. “We still have ten minutes,” 

Suddenly you can hear the imaginary clock ticking, maybe you weren’t alright after all. 

“Cuddle?” 

His smile is wide, kind, soft. You swear you melt into the sheets. Letting the used towel fall to the floor, he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, steady, safe. 

“And you thought that you wouldn’t like it when others did it,” he chimes gleefully, quoting you when you opened up about your bad experience with your ex. “It looked like you enjoyed my fingers just fine,” 

The soft baritone of his voice soothes you, your eyes flutter close, a pleased hum parting from your lips. 

“I did,” you smile into his chest. “Thank you, this was just what I needed,” 

“It was my pleasure, cariño. Literally.” 

The last thing you feel is his hand slowly dragging across your body, fingers rubbing your worn out wrists. 

Best money you’ve ever spent. 

a/n: to be notified of future work follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifs 💕

[prolix-yuy]

Hello! Would you ever expand the sex worker universe? I would love to read about will and benny and santi

Hello lovely Nonnie! Thank you for sending in this fun ask! I wanted to grab it and answer it over some other stories because I’m elbows-deep in other content, but this is something that’s also been bopping around in my head.

The short answer is: probably not. I like all of the TF Boys just fine, and I love pulling them into Frankie and Ms J’s stories, but I don’t plan on expanding the Sex Worker!Frankie universe to include standalone stories for the boys. However, I do have some headcanons about the boys when they were all working together that I thought would be fun to share:

Sex Worker!TF Boys Headcanons

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!TF Boys, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of sex with clients (including PiV sex, oral sex, group sex, and BDSM), descriptions of male and female bodies, the boys are implied bi/heteroflexible, mentions of drug use, discussion of the aftermath of military service, a brief Tom appearance, assholery and derogatory language pertaining to sex work (only in Tom's if you want to skip).

Pope’s

We all know Santi started “Pope’s” 

Part of it was for the money; he only had girls to start, recommended to him by his friend Javi, former DEA in Colombia

But when his fellow brothers in arms were struggling to get work, he thought he might have found a niche market

Will said they’d get one phone call and that would be that. Benny bet Frankie fifty bucks it would be for him

In the first week Santi got ten calls for the rugged men he’d convinced to pose for his strip club posters

The screening was the same as what he did for his girls

STD tests, birth control, health, payment, rules

The sweetness of their nerves only solidified what Santi was doing

Will was actually the first of them to have a client

When they met up for beers after his appointment, he walked in with a sheepish look

“Yeah okay, it was…it was a good time. I’d do it again.”

Benny and Frankie got into the rotation next, and after their first few appointments it was like entering a new brotherhood

Santi swore he saw them come back to life

The stress of reintegrating into civilian life while also needing to make a living washed off of them

They could do this, were good at this, and even enjoyed it

It’s work sometimes, like when Benny has a fight the night before and has a little less stamina, or if Frankie’s having a rough day, but like any job they still rise to the occasion

And the reviews are glowing

Santiago “Pope” Garcia

A few times Santi would take clients of his own

He called it the “Manager Special”

He liked the calls that were bristly, doubtful

“I’ve never had a man make me cum and I’m at the point where I just want to see if it’s possible.”

“I honestly don’t know why I called.”

“You must get lots of women who know just what they want.”

He likes the challenge, and can take a little bit of a cold shoulder to start

100% success rate for turning around an appointment

The woman who couldn’t cum needed lots of foreplay, Santi’s slick tongue and coaxing fingers pulling her first one out amidst a chorus of “Oh fucks!”

She knows now that smooth and steady is her recipe for cumming with a cock inside her

The ones who are hesitant are fun

Santi likes to watch when the urge to bolt out of the room is replaced with lust and post-orgasmic haze

Having them writhing in the sheets, clutching at him and begging him not to stop? Worth every minute

And if they don’t know what they want? If Santi can’t figure out which of the boys is best for her?

Well then, he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. One of them is sure to work

His filthy talk is guaranteed to at least get their motor running

And he'll never admit it, but the brattier they are, the harder he gets

Getting someone face-down in the pillow hoarsely chanting his name after a battle of wills?

Feeling them relax around him and take what he's plowing into their body?

It never fails to put a grin on Santi's face

And if they try to regain the upper hand after Santi cums?

Poor dears have no idea he's got a short refractory period

He's got them folded in half under him and chasing another orgasm in record time

Santi is still running Pope's after the boys leave, but it's just his girls now

He has a few repeat clients that request Will or Benny, but only a handful over several months

And one time he gets a sweet, nervous divorcee looking for someone to treat her kindly

And he instantly knows who to call

Will “Ironhead” Miller

Will always ends up being the main attraction on the flyers

Santi prefers to stay out of sight and behind the scenes, and Benny is already on posters for his boxing career

He couldn’t convince Frankie to smolder with a camera on him. The second it turns on he’s all awkward energy

Will exudes quiet confidence, and that apparently does it for a lot of clients

Santi sends Will the half-confident ones, who have maybe used an escort service before. 

They’re experienced in their own way and know what they want. Will is happy to give it to them

But there are also the desperate ones.

Failed marriages, stressful lives, partners away on business trips, kids out of town and they just need to feel seen and fucked senseless for an hour

He’s attentive, watching their faces for the minute signal that he needs to stroke faster, suck harder, whisper something in her ear to tip her over the edge

This attentiveness is why when Santi gets a unique call, he goes to Will first

“Ever do any BDSM stuff?”

Will does some reading, watches some videos, listens to some BDSM community leaders

He can definitely understand the appeal

The first client is a softball, just looking to be tied up and spanked a little

She cums so hard Will loses feeling in his hand from how tightly she’s squeezing him

The shudder that overcomes her when he hums out “good girl” makes him shudder too

From then on Santi sends Will anything with a BDSM tilt

Will excels at reading his client’s body language, but consent and negotiations are a large part of the appointment too

Will is the only one of the boys who requires a phone call with a client before he’ll participate. No charge, and no booking until his questions are satisfied

His clients often tell him the negotiation is half the foreplay for them

Will also has the most repeat clients. 

It comes with the territory, and knowing his clients wants and needs more intimately than from one session is what makes him so desirable

He often doms, both hard and soft (but he prefers soft)

He’ll sub occasionally too, if the client is right

Couples require two separate phone calls, and additional measures to ensure everyone’s safety and pleasure

He is methodical, rigorous, and diligent

Will leaves Pope’s when he’s saved up enough money to open his own little car repair shop

He likes working with his hands, taking things apart and falling into the calm headspace of rooting out problems and solving them

He still takes an old regular once and a while

After all, they’ve put a lot of time in. It would be a shame for them to start all over when he knows exactly what they need

Benny "Golden Boy" Miller

Being a sex worker with your brother is weird

Benny never thought asking about Will’s day would lead to discussions over brands of condoms or bed restraint preferences

But here they are

At least they’re not in close proximity, and they decided on a clear line not to cross when discussing work

Benny started soon after Will because the money sounded too damn good

He was working his way up the food chain in the boxing ring, but it would be nice to make some cash that didn’t involve getting the shit beat out of him

The exhaustion after an appointment was much more satisfying

Santi sends Benny the “party clients”

Bachelorette parties that need spicing up

Those that want to have their world rocked seven different ways and in gravity-defying positions

Occasionally the brazen ones who want the title of being Benny’s best lay

If it sounds like a party scene from a 90’s movie, Benny’s your man

He’s devilishly handsome, which of course helps when the door opens and eight screaming women greet him

Plus his body is rippling and firm, perfect for fingers or manicured nails to skim over

His stamina is well tested, and he loves ratioing his client’s orgasms against his own

His current best is 5:1

He also enjoys being playful in bed

Tossing the client around, nipping and scratching lightly as they squirm underneath him

His mouth can run a mile a minute with little praises and quips

Unless, of course, it’s otherwise occupied, in which his hums and groans will speed them to a faster orgasm anyways

Benny’s “never have I ever” roster is incredibly small

Fucked every hole? Yes

Milked out every drop of their cum? Yes

Tried every creative position, including hanging off a hotel chandelier? Oh yes

He convinced the client that it would definitely come down, but he did fuck her standing up and let her thread her fingers through the metal as long as she promised not to pull

She pulled his hair instead as she came

Benny also loves groups - to be watched, to have them join in, to be in a mass of writhing bodies and skin and pleasure

He can’t be as unreserved as he might have been in the past, simply because he’s being paid to be the guide, but he’ll take moments to relish in the raw sexuality of it all

Men, women, as long as everyone’s having a good time Benny is in his element

He leaves Pope’s soon after Will, his boxing career starting to make the chance of him getting recognized more and more likely

Not that he’d necessarily mind, but if he was going to make a go of it, it was time to jump in with both feet

But if something juicy comes up - a “Just Divorced” party or a fiery client begging for a challenge, Benny can’t help saying yes

Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Frankie was the most nervous about working for Pope

It took him a full month of asking Will and Benny questions about it before he could commit

“Are the girls expecting a lot when they come in?” “I mean, usually not much more than you’d normally do for a woman, Frankie.”

“Does it get weird?” “It’s a little awkward to start, but once you start getting into it most of the nerves go away.”

“What do you normally do?” “Jesus, Frank, do I have to give you the birds and the bees talk?”

But finally he calls Pope and says he’s in, at least for a little while

He figured it would be a little less passionate, a little less connection than Frankie normally craves in a sexual encounter

What he didn’t expect was how much he’d like it

What Benny and Will hadn’t put in as many words, and what Santi had glazed over, is how much it felt like helping someone

It stroked at a caregiver desire in Frankie, to give and soothe and make another person happy

The price of coke was the first reason why Frankie started sex work, but the work itself is what kept him there

Santi sends Frankie the shy ones, nervous or full of hang-ups around sex

Frankie excels at making them feel at ease, and then making them feel every pleasure they can think to ask for

He especially loves eating pussy, both for himself and for how reactive the clients are under his hot mouth and relentless tongue

He knows he’s better at it than most, taking his time to find the spots that make them cry out (it’s different for everyone, but he’s got some tried-and-true techniques)

When he puts his big hands on their hips and hold them down, feeling them clenching on his tongue, he has to bite back a growl

Beyond the oral, or the penetrative sex, Frankie also excels at the intimacy of the situation

It’s weird, paying for something that should be easy enough to get for free, and that can make any person feel broken

But if they're inexperienced, or had a string of bad lovers, and their confidence is low, Frankie will take every moment of time together to make them feel like the most desirable person on the planet

His hands roam skin slowly, reverently

He likes placing kisses along the dips and curves of bodies

Not every client wants to be kissed on the mouth, but when he does he’s sure to leave them breathless

Santi calls it the “Boyfriend Experience” and it’s Frankie’s pride and joy to offer

But the coke begins to creep up as Frankie struggles with his own self-worth in the reflection of his clients

Once they leave he’s back to being just Frankie, coke addict, ex-military working at a mind-numbingly boring airport hanger

And he yearns for the touches he gives to the people who walk in and out of his life

Santi kicks Frankie out when the coke becomes all-encompassing

He enters his hardest, and darkest days, and comes out on the other side

He knows sex work will tempt him, so he starts working for Will instead, and things finally feel brighter

Santi throws him the odd client here and there, but they tend to be simple one-offs

Easy money, straightforward needs, no chance for attachment

Frankie thinks it’s Santi’s way of protecting him, and the twin annoyance and gratefulness wars in his chest

And then one day, Santi calls him for a client he thinks Frankie will like

It’s the understatement of the century

Tom “Redfly” Davis

(Dis)honorable mention of the original team

Santi never offered, due to Tom’s marriage

That doesn’t stop Tom from making the odd tasteless joke about “having to turn down the pimp” or "how he avoided getting sex trafficked"

He makes too many STD jokes, even though he’s heard about how rigorous Santi is with keeping everyone clean and healthy

The boys (and his girls) know everyone who works at the health clinic by their first name

When Tom jokes about needing sanitizer after shaking Benny’s hand, everyone’s hackles go up

When he also asks too many questions about if any of them are “gay for pay,” Santi has to walk away before he punches him

They stop inviting him around soon after

END

[starfxkr]

saw someone said pope was t*yl*r sw*ft coded i wanted to cry (i reported their account)

none of them are taylor swift coded and especially not pope of all people

[repost-this-image]

Medieval Europe and SW Asia in One Post

Fun fact for those outside the US: Americans are mostly taught the history of our own country in K-12 schools. (In some states, badly.) We get 9-10 years of US history, 1 year that’s divided up between Civics (how the US government works) and the history of the individual state you’re in, and 1-2 years of World History that does NOT cover anything in Europe or SW Asia after the fall of Rome. Which means that to learn that stuff, you either have to take those history courses in college/university, or do a lot of independent reading.

I did a lot of independent reading.

So here’s a brief overview in very broad strokes of Europe and SWA from roughly 450 - 1600 CE. If you want to know more, I highly recommend the YT channel Extra Credit Extra History. It is well-researched, worded in a way that isn’t as horribly dry as the Durants’ books, and comes in bite-sized pieces that you can enjoy on the go.

(History behind the cut.)

The Fall of Rome and the Early Middle Ages

OK, first of all, only the western half of the Roman Empire actually fell in the fifth century CE. Everything from roughly Greece on eastward stayed Roman under the new capital of Constantinople. Constantinople had its own large library and was a center of learning and culture to rival Rome in its heyday. (This is important to remember for later.)

In Europe, you mostly had a bunch of tiny kingdoms under feudal lords, with the Catholic Church being a sort of cultural glue holding everything together. Most people were illiterate, but the Catholic clergy kept as much ancient knowledge preserved as they could, all in Latin. Most people could speak Latin as a result of the Roman Empire taking over their country a few centuries back, so it made sense as a universal language for Europe.

Because most educated people were in the clergy, the Catholic Church became not just a major religious power, but a huge political power as well.

Meanwhile, the Arabian peninsula was mostly a bunch of warring tribes until the late 7th century CE, when this guy named Mohammed united the Arabs under a religion he called The Way of Peace, or as most of us know it today, Islam.

The Muslims proceed to not only form a pretty strong nation known as the Caliphate, but to take over almost all of SWA (Constantinople and a bit of modern-day Turkey held firm), the Sahara Desert, and the Iberian peninsula (modern-day Spain and Portugal) within 100 years of Mohammed’s death. This is one of the most rapid expansions of an empire in history. Everybody was taught Arabic, and the Caliphate took a strong interest in learning and preserving as much knowledge as they could. In terms of cultural advancement, you could think of them as basically Rome 2.0.

In the 9th century, this guy known as Charlemagne the Frank is crowned Holy Roman Emperor by the Pope and proceeds to take over France and most of central Europe. He stops the expansion of the Caliphate from going past the Pyrenees mountains too. The Holy Roman Empire (which still doesn’t actually include any of Italy, much less Rome itself) remains a major player for like 900 years.

France itself has two French languages by this point, named by how you say "yes." Langue d'oui will become standard modern French. Langue d'oc, also known as Occitan, is still spoken to this day but is slowly dying out.

Britain and Ireland are, at this point, minor insignificant little islands that nobody in mainland Europe cares about, except for the Vikings, which do a lot of pillaging and also establish quite a few towns and territories in Ireland, Britain, and an area of northern France that gets the name “Normandy” from all these Northern invaders.

Meanwhile, a bunch of feudal lords are expanding their holdings into little kingdoms, bringing about the High Middle Ages.

The High Middle Ages

Then in 1066, a couple of centuries after the Vikings settle in Normandy, a Norman named William decides to conquer England. All of England’s royalty for the last 1000 or so years have been descended from William the Conqueror.

Meanwhile, the Ottoman Turks have taken over the Caliphate and called it the Ottoman Empire. This empire will stand until WWI (no really).

“Oh No,” says Pope Urban VI, “Muslims have taken over the Holy Land! That’s where Jesus lived and stuff!” So he begs the nobles of Europe to go on a crusade to take back Jerusalem. This goes horribly. There are ten Crusades over the next couple of centuries. They are mainly notable for how sadistically cruel European knights were in their butchery of the Jewish and Muslim people living in the Levant. None of them succeed at retaking it.

Meanwhile, Eleanor of Aquitaine, a French noblewoman, marries King Henry II of England. If you know the Robin Hood story, then you know her 2 kids: Richard (the Lionheart) and John II.

John II was disliked by the people because he was very, very bad at making war. So the nobles came up to him and had him sign the Magna Carta, which established the British Parliament.

Traveling minstrels called troubadours are totally the latest musical craze at this point. They mostly write in Occitan and are the source of a pretty big chunk of the European secular music that's survived from the Middle Ages.

In the 12th century, the Ottomans finally do what they’ve been trying to do for centuries and take Constantinople. And one of the first things they do is start translating all the ancient books into Arabic so they can learn lots of Cool Stuff.

Traders then bring this Cool Stuff, including new numerals they adapted from the ones used in India, to Europe, where it gets translated again into Latin and the educated classes go gaga for all the new old knowledge.

But wait, time out, says the Catholic Church. You can’t use those new Arabic numerals. The Roman numerals are what we’ve been using for centuries and we’re pretty sure that it’s like, blasphemy or something to not use Roman numerals. A bunch of cities actually banned Arabic numerals for years until the Church came around and realized that God probably doesn’t care how you write numbers and also Arabic numerals are way easier to work with.

The Late Middle Ages a.k.a. The Renaissance

So now we’ve got good times in Europe. Kingdoms have been gradually expanding, so there are fewer tiny little fiefdoms dotting the land and more moderate-sized kingdoms. Traders are getting Cool Stuff from Asia. Crops are doing well. Yeah, things still suck if you’re Jewish, but for the Christian majority, things are going pretty good.

And then the plague happened.

The Black Death killed off about 1/3 of Europe’s population at the time, and kept coming back in waves from 1352 all the way to 1666. Nobody knew exactly how it was spread, except that it might be through the air. It’s terrifying for everyone, because unlike famines, the rich can’t buy their way out of a plague.

At the same time, things are heating up in England and France.

You know how Eleanor of Aquitaine was a French noblewoman? That technically, according to France, made the English king a vassal, or subject, of the king of France. And Edward III was all "No way, bite me" and France was like "Yo mama" and they started the Hundred Years' War.

(It was technically 119 years long, but when the war's that long already, what's a couple of decades, amirite?)

England ended up taking over most of France at one point, a French peasant girl named Joan wore armor because she believed she'd gotten a message from God, and by the end, France owned France again.

Meanwhile, England had just gone from "a tiny insignificant country on some island that Europe doesn't really care about" to a major player. They fought a war against France! And held their own for most of it! And France had been a big deal pretty much since Charlemagne!

The Bohemians in what is now the Czech Republic tried to start their own church and their own democracy in one fell swoop, and the Church came down hard on them.

The Cathar Christians in the region of France known as Albi caught the Church's attention as well, and since the Cathars were essentially heretics, the brutal Albigensian Crusade wiped out entire villages.

Meanwhile, the Church's view on witchcraft has changed.

See, for most of the Middle Ages, the official view was that if you accused your neighbor of witchcraft, that meant you were a heretic, because you believed in supernatural powers other than God and the devil. So people didn't do a lot of accusing people of witchcraft.

But with plague going on, and people needing easy scapegoats, and a lot of medieval people really hating on women (see: Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, and the dude who wrote the Malleus Malificarum), you had a recipe for Bad Times. Jewish people, people with leprosy, and Romani were blamed too, because they got blamed for most everything. But now, people were very focused on the idea that the devil was making trouble by tricking women into practicing the Dark Arts.

Thus, western Europe began hunting "witches." This is not the same thing as the Inquisition, although they happened at the same time. And no, most of the accused were not actually witches, nor were they Pagans. Wicca didn't exist yet either. Please stop stating these things as undisputed fact. I am begging you.

This also meant that a lot of zealous would-be witch-hunters were killing cats, and since cats keep the rat population down, and the plague was spread by the fleas on those rats, you can imagine how well that went.

Anyway, despite all the doom and gloom, Italy was having a Renaissance of ancient art styles, featuring cool people like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and a bunch of other dudes who didn't have Ninja Turtles named after them but were still pretty great.

In the Holy Roman Empire, this dude named Gutenberg figures out movable type, and immediately uses it to print out Bibles in both Latin and German, so that everybody can read the Bible and you don't have to go all squinty reading hand-written copies in the church that are so expensive that they have to be chained down.

And then there's Spain.

The Reconquista and Why It Ruined Everything

Spain, as you'll recall, was mostly ruled by the Ottoman Empire. There was a lot of splitting up and reshuffling of kingdoms there for a while, but in the late 15th century, the young rulers Ferdinand of Castille and Isabela of Aragon decide to take Spain back. And since they're Catholics, this Reconquista (literally "reconquest") basically meant "kick out all the Jews and Muslims from Spain and take all their stuff."

So now the royal couple has a ton of stolen liberated gold in the treasury, and they want to trade with the Indies and get even richer. And when this dude from Genoa comes along saying he thinks the earth is smaller than everybody says it is and you can totally just sail west to get to the Indies, Isabela's like "Sure, I've got money to burn. Here are 3 ships."

And that is how Christopher Columbus ruined everything for the Native Americans, and as an added bonus, introduced syphilis to Europe and ruined things for a lot of people there. But the Spanish got rich AF and that's what matters, right?

Meanwhile, because Spain is Catholic now, it gets permission from the Church to run its own special Inquisition in order to find any remaining Jews, Muslims, or heretics in Spain. If you know anything about the Spanish Inquisition other than the Monty Python meme, then you understand why this is a Very Bad Thing.

The Sixteenth Century

At the same time, Spain was also fighting England and France over Flanders.

Not Homer Simpson's neighbor but the region of Flanders, which is now Belgium and parts of the Netherlands. Everybody basically wanted to take over Flanders and get hold of its awesome natural resources.

Everybody also wanted to take over as much of the New World as possible and send expeditions over there, especially since there was a chance there might be a Northwest Passage to Asia so they can get those sweet, sweet Asian spices without having to travel overland. Unfortunately, the Americas go north as far as the ice caps, and south almost to Antarctica (which the Europeans still don't know exists yet), so that's not happening.

In Rome, the Catholic Church is using money from the sale of indulgences to build some church or whatever. Martin Luther, a German monk, is Not Amused and nails up 95 reasons why, thus starting the Protestant Reformation.

In England, Henry VIII is busy having a lot of wives, starting his own church, and basically being a rather poor king, overall.

The Portuguese are mad because they feel like they've gotten the short end of the stick. So the Pope decrees that everything east of a certain latitude in South America goes to Portugal, and everything west of the line goes to Spain. Which would be awesome except that South America has a lot more land west of the line than east of it. But the kings of Spain and Portugal are bound by the Church's decree, and there are no take-backsies.

Spain has the most powerful navy in Europe at this point. It's even called the Invincible Armada. Until 1588 when Queen Elizabeth I raises up the new most powerful navy in Europe and kicks the Armada's collective ass.

Meanwhile, a fringe sect of Christians in England believe that the Anglican Church is too much like Catholicism. One group believes that it needs to be "purified" of Catholic influence. The other believes that they need to just completely separate from the Church of England altogether. Because these are views that could easily make you a head shorter (if you get my meaning), they move to the Netherlands, where there's freedom of religion. This is unusual. In most of Europe at the time, you had to be the same exact kind of Christian as the king, or at least pretend to be. Anyway, this is a fairly small group of people, and I'm sure they'll have no real influence on events in the future--

Ohmygod, they just settled New England. And rather than wanting freedom of religion, they want everybody to follow their church. Whoopsie.

So that's the Middle Ages in a nutshell, or at least the parts of it that I know about and can remember off the top of my head. Please read more about this stuff instead of relying solely on this post. It'll get you a bit of knowledge, but it's hardly the equivalent of taking an entire course on medieval history.

[shop-korea]

We Ate EVERYTHING at EPCOT's Festival of the Arts

Old Hispanic - You Weirdo Small

Breasted Asiana - What Do you

want - From Him - Last Night

Ugly Glasses Male - said outloud

Me his Wife 2 Black Female

who wants His Tent and Body

I said - I'm not - No one owns

my Body Parts - No one owns

My Body - said more - inside

Tent heard that - He tried 2 Ask

Me - he's lying

Perjury - Slander - $500,000

and or State Prison

around 8A - talked 2 sitting and

tall male hispamics

Etiquette - You stand as males

when female walks 2 u

Old blind glasses - had

enough of my talking to

when liar glasses arrived

like Miami Police return

foreigners 2 subject matter

He said - standing can't walk

with me so spoke 2 bad breathe

kissed my arm showed Amazon

App - Santa Hispanic who pee pees

on walls - trees

Regular Amazon

Radio - $75

Amazon rechargeableb- $45

Told him his friends bird doo doo

on tents - 100 degrees - inside

Spanish males don't help

females and anyone they

don't know - told him

Getting restraining orders

SW 2 St

French Police beheading

with curved blade sword

their heads - Cabezas Los

Come near - France - Italy

Popes of Vatican City

Apprehend - 3 men

Glasses each

Who stayed in tent - 5A

this Morning - Fights in

Spanish

They said we don't help

Asians with small eyes

Talks 2 much

Illegal aliens wants baby

2 petition them

Their Spanish Pee Pee

penetrates only Spanish

Speaking Cow eyes Huge

Breasts - They travel spanish

Countries - Suck - Breasts

Jesus es their Dios - God

He is not virgin per them

Korean Girls,

I will not marry Spanish

App - 500Billuon Won x 500

Daily - Never enter USA

Same - Daily - Tax - Paid

Crazy - United States

Small Guy who kissed me

Walking me - 30 Jan

Handing weirdo - $50

Took tent or Grafitti

Ugly Asian

Give me - my - $60 - $48.88

You and Amazon

Go 2 Hell - Graffiti

Now Tent at Storage

Spanish Rabbies - Miami

Venezuelan Females Miami

Police - Violent Non Virgins

[captmccoy]

Another Look at Case Study 27

Above; Pope Clement V and Friedrich Fromm Our big question should now be; why are Phil and the fascists giants of Mordor spending their time in the SW trying to set up Phil’s son when they have child molesters and murderers in their own house in the NW? More importantly what about the guys who created and handled these miscreants? Phil and Co don’t seem concerned with them. Phil’s son forewarned…

[saturdaynightmatinee]

CALIFICACIÓN PERSONAL: 5 / 10

Título Original: S.W.A.T.: Firefight

Año: 2011

Duración: 85 min

País: Estados Unidos

Dirección: Benny Boom

Guion: Reed Steiner. Historia: Reed Steiner, Randy Walker, Michael Albanese, Ed Arneson

Música: John Paesano

Fotografía: Don Davis

Reparto: Gabriel Macht, Robert Patrick, Kristanna Loken, Nicholas Gonzalez, Carly Pope, Giancarlo Esposito, Matt Bushell, Micah Hauptman, Shannon Kane, Kevin Phillips

Productora: Stage 6 Films, RCR Media Group, Original Film

Género: Action; Crime; Thriller

TRAILER:

[winterseamusicnotes]

"Mary Magdalene WASNT who washed Jesus's feet"

[geographimancy]

reading list (open tabs) 5 apr 2023

isometric dot cc (archive dot org (while it's still up?)) - https://web.archive.org/web/20141102155400/http://isometri.cc/strips

the beast weeps with one eye - http://www.beneath-ceaseless-skies.com/stories/the-beast-weeps-with-one-eye/

perseus - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseus

yu the great - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yu_the_Great

chinese mythology - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_mythology

clubhouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/6016-NE-Willow-St-97213/home/26605227

wallhouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/605-NW-Macleay-Blvd-97210/home/26574183

koinhouse - https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/1414-SW-3rd-Ave-Apt-3001_Portland_OR_97201_M29797-00894

frasierhouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/1414-SW-3rd-Ave-97201/unit-2503/home/26304932

home habitat range niche territory - https://www.tor.com/2021/04/19/home-habitat-range-niche-territory-martha-wells/

orion - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orion_(mythology)

officehouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/3221-NE-33rd-Ave-97212/home/25778105

raven tales - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raven_Tales

frederick i - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Barbarossa

huginn and muninn - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huginn_and_Muninn

lludd and llefelys - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lludd_and_Llefelys

manhattan - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattan

1122 nw summit ave (archived photos from when it was beautiful) - https://www.maceyandmj.com/news/1122-nw-summit-avenue-1750000

nonsensehouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/407-NW-Marlborough-Ave-97210/home/26388510

brickhouse - https://www.redfin.com/OR/Portland/1703-SW-Montgomery-Dr-97201/home/26550508

hundred years war - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundred_Years%27_War

crisis of the late middle ages - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crisis_of_the_Late_Middle_Ages

a holiday of ashes - https://theswordandthesandwich.substack.com/p/a-holiday-of-ashes

robocop - https://readallcomics.com/category/robocop-marvel-comics/

the hernandez bros - https://www.gq.com/story/love-and-rockets-hernandez-brothers

worship of talos is strictly forbidden - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talos

the ringworld of robert fett - https://www.polygon.com/22903093/book-of-boba-fett-halo-ringworld-space-station

banks orbitals - https://www.orionsarm.com/eg-article/4845ef5c4ca7c

titan (torus world) - https://jamesdavisnicoll.com/review/writing-in-the-garden

nobody cares about your blog - https://mssprovenance.blogspot.com/2022/12/nobody-cares-about-your-blog.html

kate beaton's ducks - https://doctorow.medium.com/kate-beatons-ducks-fcabaadfc72

mugshawtys:

tofu oyaku keychain stacking cubes

robots

montreal i think

rings of power spoilers

this house was beautiful until some clown bought it and wanted to resell it and painted it all cream white

sp//dr 1998

genuine ostrich

haute pope

[psychedelic-ink]

Blocked By Snow ║ I

a/n: this series is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough 💕 thank you so much for allowing me once more to delve into this world. I appreciate you so much and so glad to have met you 💚

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance, minors dni

word count: 5.8k

summary: With everyone out of town for the holidays, a lonely Santiago wanders the streets. His nightly walk leads him to your coffee shop.

warnings: sex worker!santi, a bit of insecure/shy reader, foodplay, piv, bdsm dynamics, messy oral (receiving), dirty talking

a/n: you don't necessarily have to read the first one shot to read this but it would make more sense if you did 💚

watercolor eyes'verse masterlist | A VERY PSYCHEDELIC WINTER '22

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Santiago never had enjoyed the cold. 

He hates the way cold pricks at his skin as he walks, a needle-like sensation that makes his body feel perpetually uncomfortable. The empty street echoes with the crunch of snow and every time he takes a step he slightly slips. Which keeps him in a purgatory of an almost falling feeling for the entire winter season. But of course that’s not all. He also sweats easily. He doesn’t have to do much. He could just be walking to the bus stop and he would break out in sweat. Which means that the inside of his coat is always sickly warm, his damp shirt clinging to his skin with his every move. He can’t take his coat off. Because sweat soaked skin combined with cold wind equals a runny nose and lungs full of germs. He just can’t win during these times. Everything’s a hassle. 

 However, he does enjoy the aesthetics of winter. 

Taking in a deep breath, Santiago takes in the sight of the empty streets. It’s late, but even if it wasn’t, it would still be deserted. The city resembles a dystopian wasteland with muddy snow and wet concrete, he loves it. A car passes by and the ground gleams with a yellow light. He takes another breath. There is no sun to force him to smile, to force him to be in a good mood. With weather like this, it was just mandatory to be somber and a little bit sad. He thinks better. He understands his emotions better. 

Santiago stops and pulls out a box of Marlboros. Frankie would’ve had his head if he’d seen, but thankfully —and maybe a bit unthankfully— his friend wasn’t in town. Him and Ms Jackson had gone away for the holiday season, wanting to spend it away from the city’s hustle and bustle. Still standing still, Santiago takes a deep huff of his cigarette and hisses out the smoke, watching it curl into the sky. Will and Benny were also away, beckoned to come back home by their mother. So that just left him. Alone to aimlessly wander the streets. 

He resumes his steps with nicotine filled lungs. Memories of you floods his mind, you were the last client he had for a while. No one really calls for him or the guys anymore, the calls are mostly for the girls, which he doesn’t mind but he just can’t stop thinking of you. Santiago was hopeful you would call again. But his hopes for it diminished after two weeks. Then he remembered you talking about your struggling shop and how it was getting harder and harder to make rent. 

So maybe that was why you hadn’t called. Or you just found someone else. The possibilities were endless, he could’ve also called, but just because it worked out fine for Frankie didn’t mean that it would work out for him. 

His teeth sink into the butt of the cigarette, half smoked now. Santiago still remembers how nervous you sounded when you first made the call. How nervous you were when he arrived. He doesn’t remember much about your home, he only remembers how you looked when you came on his tongue, fingers, and cock. 

Santiago takes another deep inhale of smoke. 

He still thinks of you sometimes, especially on nights where he’s bored or too lazy to hit the bars. Santiago often imagines his fist as your pretty pussy, fucking it until he’s oversensitive and whimpering from his own hand, cum drooling down his fingers—

A sudden shiver climbs up from the bottom of his spine and knocks the air right out of his lungs. The skin above his lower stomach tingles. Maybe he should head home, pour himself a glass of scotch and show himself  a good time. 

Then, with the corner of his eyes, he sees a bright neon light. He looks up and throws the half smoked cigarette to the ground, grinding it down with the tip of his shoe.  Cafe Watercolor the sign says, it’s bright and pink and doesn’t go with the cold winter aesthetic he had made for himself. Santiago peers inside with narrowed eyes. It looks cute enough, with lots of colorful and tasteful decor. He sees pastries gleaming behind glass and his lust is replaced with hunger. 

Santiago’s fingers hover an inch away from the glass door when he sees you; His eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You’re struggling with the faucet. He watches you with unblinking eyes, you hit the tap a couple of times and soon water begins to pour from the nuzzle. Starting to wash your hands, you let out a breath of relief. 

Never one to back down from whatever life throws at him, he pushes the door and flinches as a soft chime announces his presence. 

Your face is priceless. 

You turn to him with a smile —presumably expecting a random customer — and your smile wavers with a subtle twitch of your lips. Your eyebrows go all the way to your hairline. Your gaze is somewhere between being astonished and fearful. At least, that’s what Santiago thinks he saw, but the emotion disappears just as quickly before he can pinpoint what it was.

“Santi,” you breathe out, the soft tone of your voice going straight to his cock. Between being hungry and cold, he was having the weirdest boner ever. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” he grins and takes a step inside. “I saw you through the window and thought I should come in and say hi.” 

“Hi,” you let out a nervous laugh. “You…You really came here just to say hi?” 

He grins, “Well to be completely honest I saw the pastries first, then I saw you. So, if we’re going to be technical about it, no.” 

“Oh,” your eyes drop to the display of baked goods. You’re still smiling which calms Santiago’s worries that he might’ve been accidentally rude. “Which one did you have your eyes on? It’s on the house.” 

“Really? I mean I can pay– In fact I want to pay,” 

“No no it’s completely fine!” you dismiss him with the wave of a hand. “Tell me, which one did you want?” 

He finds the sparkles in your eyes endearing. Never in his life had Santiago thought that him picking out a desert would be the source of such glee. He walks closer to the display; he sees pies, cinnamon rolls, eclairs, donuts and much much more. It’s surprising how such a small place can produce such a variety of deserts. He points to the eclairs with a soft smile. 

“Would you want coffee too?” 

“Sure, but bring one for you too. I would love to catch up if you’re not busy?” 

“Free as a bird.” your lips crack in a bittersweet smile. “I’ll be right there.” 

Picking a table near the large windows, Santiago shrugs off his coat and drapes it behind the wooden chair. It takes you a while until you join him. He can hear muttered curses and pleas coming from behind the coffee machine. The urge to go and help bubbles inside of him, blood pooling underneath his nails as he forces himself to sit. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s trying to undermine you, especially not in your own cafe. 

Instead, he takes this opportunity to examine his surroundings. It really is a nice place. The wall behind the counter consists of black marble that reaches all the way to the ceiling, a soft yellow light is attached to it, giving the whole cafe an eternal autumn feeling. The rest of the walls are a soft shade of beige. Santiago noticed wooden frames attached to the wall, painted over the same color to give it a more rustic feel. He wonders if you did all of this on your own or if you had help. He hopes that you did. Artwork of every kind was also scattered across the walls.    

After further inspection he realizes that he’s actually been here before —well not been, but more walked past— Your apartment must be close because he recognizes the crooked street sign. It starts to snow outside. His eyes flicker from one snowflake to another, watching them like a cat. 

“Here we go!” you say triumphantly as you place an eclair and a steaming hot mug in front of him. Sitting down, you take another mug off the tray and place the tray on top of the table next to you. “Sorry that took me a while, the coffee machine has been giving me trouble lately,” 

“It’s fine,” his eyes drop down to the mug, staring at it as if the dark liquid might have poison in it. 

“Is everything alright?” 

He doesn’t want to trouble you, “Sorry, yeah it’s just…uh–” 

“Come on, you can tell me.” 

“Can I have milk?” 

You stare at him a brief second before bursting out laughing. His cheeks warm up. Santiago clutches the mug, looking offensively at his reflection in the black coffee. Noticing his withdrawal, you place a hand on his wrist and give it a soft squeeze. Your gaze softens, your laughter only leaving a ghost-like smile on your lips. 

“Sorry sorry. I just didn’t think you would want milk in your coffee, in fact I had an eternal debate going on while I was making it. I thought to myself ‘should I ask him if he wants milk?’ then the other voice in my head said ‘No no he’s too cool for that.’” 

Santiago raises his gaze, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he cocks an eyebrow. 

“First of all, how can someone be too cool for milk?”  he shakes his head, his lips parting with a chuckle. “And second of all how on earth did you come to the conclusion that I was cool?” 

“Well, I think you’re cool.” You shrug, such a simple action, yet he’s entranced by the simplicity of it and your words. You actually believed in what you had said. “As for your first question, I don’t know. I feel like everyone has an issue with milk these days. I have, like, a million different types of milk. I miss it when it was just soy, almond and lactose free. Those were simpler times.” 

“Don’t worry whole milk is just fine with me,” 

You switch his mug with yours and his brows furrow with confusion. 

“I already put milk in mine and haven’t had a sip yet so you can have it instead.” 

“Are you sure? Don’t you want milk in yours?” 

“I’m fine with it, don’t worry.” you take a sip to demonstrate, but he can see the twitch of your eyes as the bitter liquid hits your tongue. “See. I love it. Anyway, how have you been?” 

Santiago allows you to live in bliss thinking that you fooled him. 

“I’ve been doing good, work is pretty much the same nothing new,”

“I’m glad.” 

Santiago hates the way you suddenly recoil, both emotionally and physically. You lean back into your chair, as if you’re trying to escape him, and warm your palms against the porcelain surface of the mug. He’s not sure what to make of this. Is this just a normal awkward pause or are you suddenly bothered about what he does for a living? He’s hoping the latter isn’t the case but anxiety rolls in his stomach anyway. 

“What about you? How’s the cafe running business going?” 

It’s a sad smile that you’re giving him. You trace the rim of the mug with your thumb, your gaze watching the snow. You begin to explain to him what’s been going on; the faucets are messed up but you don’t have the money to fix them, the coffee machine is on its last breath and the bills keep piling up— Santiago nods along, adding his two scents where it’s needed and finally bites into his eclair. 

He moans. “Holy shit—”

“What’s wrong?” 

Your voice is panicked and he would feel bad if the fucking eclair hadn’t tasted so good. The pastry melts in his mouth. The chocolate gave him a buzz of pleasure no desert ever had before. He lets out another muffled moan, his eyes falling shut without realizing. 

“Sorry,” he chokes out, swallowing. “This just tastes really good. Did you make this?” 

“I did, yeah,” then you quickly add. “You really like it?” 

“Of course I do. It’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” a mischievous smile curls at the corner of his lips, he moves his eyes across your slowly and licks the chocolate off his lips. “Well, maybe not the best thing.” 

You stare at him with blown wide pupils. Your mouth falls open and your fingers twitch around the mug. Santiago is ninety nine percent sure that if he looks under the table this very second your thighs would be rubbing against each other like two sticks trying to ignite a fire. Knowing this only makes his smile wider. There’s nothing he enjoys more than making an overworked woman fluster. However, teasing you is even more fun. You’re so expressive —something that he noticed the first time he came over— and he thrives in it.  

Santiago’s mind buzzes with a forming idea. With an unwavering smile, he turns the half bitten eclair towards you. Your eyes move between his face and the pastry, your confusion makes his cock twitch. 

“If you don’t believe me,” he says slowly, squeezing the side of the eclair so that more cream comes out. “Have a bite and see for yourself,” 

Santiago is convinced that he can hear your heartbeat. Raising his eyebrows, he inches the desert closer. Your lips open up for him. His world falls into slow motion. He sees the pink of your tongue and your taste hangs heavy on his tongue, you refuse to break eye contact as you bite into the fluffy pastry. Cream stains the corner of your lips, pulling away, you lick the sweet remains away. 

Now it was Santiago’s turn to become flustered. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the length of his cock catches against the rough surface of his zipper, his throat rattles with a choked moan. You think you’re sly with the way you smirk at him, but he’s never one to shy away, and seeing that you failed to properly lick the chocolate away, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb then licks it clean. 

He convinces himself that he stepped out of line, as harmless as his flirting might be, he isn’t sure how you feel about it. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to invite him upstairs to your apartment. 

He’s even more surprised when he realizes he’s actually been hoping for the invite.

Your apartment is the same as he remembers, the only exception being the Christmas decorations. 

With a shy smile tugging at your lips, Santiago allows you to guide him into the depths of your apartment. You’re definitely a lot more outgoing compared to when he first met you. He likes the change. 

He wonders if you’ve been with anyone else after him. Have you delved deeper into the BDSM pithole? Have you experimented more? 

The thought makes his head spin. 

“Would you like anything?” you ask politely. 

“Do you have any more of that cream filling?” 

“What?” 

He swallows down when a bubble of laughter surfaces. The look you’re giving him is priceless; Your eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and breathing uneven. It’s truly a sight to see. 

“I just wanted to try something out, if it’s alright with you,” 

“Yeah… yeah!” you rummage through the fridge. “I think I might have some leftovers,” And alas you pull away from the fridge with a nearly full piping bag. “Will this be enough?” 

“That’s plenty.” 

He stalks towards you similar to a predator nearing its prey, he slowly takes the piping bag from your hand, purposefully brushing his fingers over your knuckles. There’s a silent command in his eyes, and without voicing it out, he moves his lips; Open up. 

And, fuck, you actually do open your mouth. 

The pink of your tongue moves past your lips, Santiago’s eyes go wide, a smug smile etched into his face. He lifts the piping bag up and squeezes a dollop onto the flat of your tongue. Normally, if it was anyone else, they would’ve closed their lips and tasted the sweetness of the cream. But not you. You know better. You’ve been learning ever since that fateful night. You won’t do anything without his say so, and to have that control —that trust— it does something to him. Suddenly he wants to stop the game and ravish you right here in the kitchen. He wants to make a mark of himself. A mark that would linger even when he’s gone. 

But instead a growl rattles his chest, he leans forward and flattens his tongue against yours, tasting the cream. The moan you let out urges him to lick you clean, he sucks the tender muscles into his mouth. It marks the start of the most deprived kiss of his entire life. He inhales the air from your lungs, whenever you peel away from him, gasping for air, he squeezes more cream between your lips. You taste so sweet, so shamelessly you. 

His one hand grips your waist, forcing you to grind against him as he devours your mouth in a literal sense. Your moans bleed into one another, neither of you knowing from whom the lewd sounds are coming from. His hand slides up from your waist and settles on your breast, he squeezes hard. A whimper joins the sinful symphony. 

Your body trembles, your nostrils flare. He can’t help it as he squeezes a bit more cream into your mouth, the quick action serving as a moment for you to breathe. He closes the distance immediately after, some part of his brain —the one that still holds some awareness— reminds him of the time Will got really into Greek Mythology. Santiago always listened to him with half an ear, but a word echoes in his mind as he dives in for another kiss and another.

Ambrosia. The food of the Gods. 

That’s what you are. So sweet and tender and addicting.     

Santiago might’ve suffocated you if he hadn’t stopped, and deep down he knows that you’d allow him to.  

It’s more of a shove instead of a gentle push back. Both of them pant heavily, their chest rising and falling with strained breaths. He notices the piping bag is still half full, it’s a surprise really, he feels that he’s been piping cream into your mouth for hours. 

It’s you who breaks the silence. 

“That was…wow,” 

“You’re quite articulate, aren’t you?” he grins, licking his lips. Then his smile thins, a look of worry crossing his face. “Do you…want to do this? I definitely want to but I need to hear you say it. I don’t want you thinking I ambushed you.” 

“Oh I definitely want this,” your smile soothes him. “I actually wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” 

“Why wouldn’t I–” he clams his mouth shut, not really eager to dive into something that might make you uncomfortable (but he does take a mental note to address it later), he points at the both of you, poor finger frantically moving between bodies. “So we both want this then?” 

You nod but there’s something in your expression he quite doesn’t get. “What is it?” 

“It’s just…oh god, this is so awkward to ask but this— This isn’t— I’m a bit tight right now, as you probably guessed, and I can’t really—” frustrated, your hands suddenly shoot up into the air. “I’m such an idiot, sorry if I misread anything. I’m really shit at human interaction nowadays.” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re trying to ask him, the lingering taste of cream sours on his tongue as he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Don’t worry, it’s completely free of charge.” he says, voice stale. Relief washes over you, which makes him realize that maybe you were just being insecure. A twinge of guilt flares in his heart. “I do like you, you know. It’s my fault if I hadn’t made that clear enough,” 

“No no, it’s just me being completely insecure. You were clear it’s just, I needed to ask or the thought would eat at me all night. It’s just…you’re really pretty,” 

Santiago snorts, his hand coming up to cover his mouth immediately. “I’m flattered, querida, but what does me being pretty have to do with me not wanting to be with you?”

When you struggle to find the words, he closes the distance and grabs your hand. You gasp as he presses your open palm against the outline of his erection. His mouth finds the crook of your neck, kissing the skin tenderly, he guides your hand up and down his length. His chest heaves. 

“Is this proof enough that this pretty man wants to be with you?” he murmurs, the breath accompanying his words wetting your skin. “If you need more proof I think we need to head to the bedroom.” 

“I definitely need more convincing,” you answer with a smile, a bit of playful nature hidden beneath your words. 

“Lead the way,” he says with a grin. 

However, before you move Santiago notices your eyes linger on the still half full piping bag. Your eyebrow raises with curiosity. Taking a step closer, Santiago wraps his arm around your waist and urges you to move, his lips touch your ear. Warm and soft. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not done decorating you yet.” 

Only ten minutes in and you’re already a sticky, whimpering mess. 

The empty piping bag is casted aside to the floor. He had kept his promise and decorated you. He’s encircled your pebbled nipples with cream, squeezed trails down your stomach and drew lines across your folds. You were a delight and he was going to savor every last bit of it. 

He starts from your nipples that seem like cherries with heaping amounts of cream. Santiago rewards himself with a taste, tongue moving in languid circles, he refuses to touch you where you really want him to. You grow needy, impatient. Your back arches with hope. Cream accidentally stains the corners of his lips but he doesn’t mind. He nips at the swell of your breast and looks up to you between heavy eyelashes. 

“Behave,” he murmurs, mouth full. 

“B-But…Santi, please. I need you so bad that it hurts,” 

He hums. He hides his amused smile by licking the cream off of your other breast. You let out a soft whimper and your fingers twitch against the sheets. You’re so responsive to him. He has been with his fair share of women, but none of them behaved the way that you did. You acted as if you would die without his touch, without his mouth and sinful tongue. It drives him mad, which leads him to drag his open palms up and down your thighs, goosebumps rise across your skin. 

“Tell me how much,” he purrs, the slow drag of his tongue making you moan. “I want to know exactly how you’re feeling and maybe then…” he inhales. One hand moves towards your sex, fingers ghosting over your folds. “I’ll fuck this pretty pussy until you’re stupid,” 

“I feel like I already am,” you confess with a weak smile, the words go straight to Santiago’s cock, a bead of precum dripping to the bed. “When you tease me, it feels as if a thousand needles are pricking into my skin. Ever since our first meeting I can’t stop thinking of you Santi. I think of your lips, your scent, your—” 

You cut yourself at the very last second, looking away with slight embarrassment. Santiago looks down, kisses your nipple and allows his tongue to circle it.

You sigh his name out like it’s a breath of something warm and sweet. 

“My cock?” he finishes for you. “Go on.” 

When you say nothing he stops, he purposefully exhales a warm breath against your wet skin. Your jaw goes slack, eyes fluttering, your hips spread for him without further prompt. The next breath you take is shaky but you manage to speak, voice laced with undeniable want. 

“I did some research, you know…about BDSM. And—” you swallow. “And I always think of how it would feel if it was you doing those things to me. Tying me up, whispering filth in my ear, using me however you please…” 

With minimal movement he ruts against the bed, the grind of his hips slow, the soft surface of the blankets providing excellent friction. He whimpers into your skin. 

“Have you tried any of it…with anyone?” he really didn’t want to ask but he needs to know, he’s not sure why though. A weak laughter drops from your lips, his gaze meets yours. 

“I chickened out,” you sigh. He feels your nails at your nape and it forces a shudder up your spine. “I got scared.” 

“Scared of what?” 

“Of being that vulnerable in front of someone, I didn’t want to accidentally get hurt or…say something to the wrong person,” 

The memory of the first night the two of you shared lights within his head; You’d said that you loved him. He didn’t think much of it to be honest, a lot of women said a lot of things when with him. He would never hold something like that above someone’s head, or make a big deal about it. But he also understands why you must’ve hesitated. 

Santiago has a million things he wants to say to soothe you. The words overwhelm him, dance and roll into a snowball on his tongue. Saliva fills his mouth, he rolls his tongue against your tit before answering. His tongue loosens at the feel of your skin. 

“What about me? Are you scared of being with me?” 

“No.” you chuckle at the look of surprise he gives you, you cover your face with the back of your hand. “This might sound stupid but for some reason I fully tursted you ever since the first time I heard your voice.” 

“That good, huh?” 

Santiago hides his smile by kissing —and licking— a slow trail down from the swell of your stomach to your left thigh. Your skin glistens at where there used to be cream. He kisses your folds nice and slow, tongue dipping in between, his eyes nearly roll back when he tastes you. The sweetness of the cream elevates the taste, he cleans you up and delves deeper, the tip of his tongue circles around your entrance. He feels your nails on his scalp. Your thighs shake when he moves up to your clit, closing his lips around the sensitive nub, he sucks and licks. His name falls from your lips again and again, moans and mewls becoming louder and louder. 

“Want you to come in my mouth,” he groans. “You think you can do that for me?” 

When nothing but a whimper leaves you, he digs his nails into your skin as a warning. 

“I–I want to. I can, please don’t stop—” 

“That’s my girl.” 

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He pulls you against his face closer, a soft yelp tearing from your throat when he does. He throws your thighs over his shoulders and eats you out like a man starved. His cock throbs, begging for attention and friction, a wet patch steadily growing on the sheets. Slick drips out of you like nectar from a fruit, he groans into you, the reverberation making you twist and turn. Your body trembles under his palms, he knows your orgasm is within reach. 

Sucking on your clit, he lifts his gaze. Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted; Santiago truly believes that every person looks good when receiving pleasure —how could it not with the way stress dissolves from your body— But you, you look extraordinary. 

“Come on baby, give it to me. I want you flooding my mouth,” 

“Fuck— fuckfuckfuck— Santi—” a sharp gasp tears through the air, your hands frantically search anywhere they can cling on. Your body twitches and you finally give him what he wants. 

The taste overwhelmed him, his tongue moving along your slit over and over as you gush into his mouth. He swallows eagerly, drops of it drip down the corner of his lips but that doesn’t stop him. Santiago doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering for him to, your hands weakly tugging at his hair. 

“That was gorgeous,” he says, voice dripping with uncontrollable lust. Before speaking again he places a tender kiss on your pelvis. “Now do you want that cock you’ve been missing so much?” 

“You’re such a tease you know that, Santiago?” 

“So I have been told.” 

Santiago moves up your body, bringing your legs with him. He leans in as if he’s going to kiss you, a Cheshire cat-like grin spreading across his face. 

“Do you want to taste yourself on my tongue?” 

“God. Yes, please,” 

He licks the seam of your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You groan at the taste of yourself and he swallows every bit of noise you make. He presses the head of his cock  inside, filling you up inch by inch. Your pussy hugs him so tight, it’s nearly suffocating. Santiago makes a choked out sound, his lips falling away from yours, he finds himself mouthing at the curve of your neck. He can feel how wet you are for him, your slick coating his cock. He hears the wet squelch as he buries himself into your warmth inch by inch.

Slowly, Santiago pulls back, his fingers curving around the back of your knees. Black dots dance across his vision. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. You’re squeezing me so tight,” he swallows, his voice dropping. “Tell me how it feels,” 

“So good,” you say, a choked out moan following. “So good. Please move.” 

Deciding that he’d teased you enough for one night, Santiago moves. His own chase of pleasure is prominent in his movements; Frantic, fast, rough. Your head falls back, eyes squeezed tight, you brace your hands against the headboard. 

“Yes…Santi—Yes, yes,” 

His gaze drops down to witness the mess. You have him completely soaked, a sheer ring circling the base of his cock, he pounds into you again and again. Pleasure rakes across his skin, his stomach drawing tight. 

“Thank you—” your voice is broken, shattered. He looks up, a slight worry to his gaze. Then you utter the words again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—” 

His balls throb and he nearly comes while inside. Shit shit shit. He quickly pulls out, the drag of his cock heavy between your folds, your eyes roll back, a whisper of his name sinfully falling from your lips.

“Why’d you stop?” you slur, hands searching for his skin. You let out a pleased hum when you managed to grip at his shoulders. “Did you come?” 

He chuckles, “Not yet but nearly did.” his thumb strokes the inside of your knee. “Can you come for me again, pretty girl? Want to feel it.” 

You breathe out a yes and he steadily slides back into you. It’s more difficult than he thought, you’re so warm and tight and wet. He was stupid for him to think that he would last. Without a word he lets go of your legs. He guides you so that you’ll stand on your hands and knees, his one hand moves between your legs as the other slowly slides up your back and rests on your shoulder. As he resumes his thrusts, he leans over you, his lips tracing shapes across your damp skin. He draws quick, short circles around your clit, you writhe underneath him, moaning and begging for release. It makes him dizzy. 

It doesn’t take you long after that. The tell tale signs of your nearing orgasm as clear as day. Your body locks up, thighs staggering uncontrollably as he fills you again and again. Your breathing is frantic, your chest heaving as your orgasm shatters through you, wetting his cock and thighs. Santiago is quick to pull out, his mind hazy with lust, he strokes himself over your ass. He comes with a groan, hot ropes of cum stains your skin. You call out to him when you feel it, thanking him again and again. His cock twitches. Honestly, if you didn’t look so worn out he might’ve gone for round two. 

But for now, he’ll stop. For your sake. 

And maybe a bit for his knees sake.

“I’ll be right back with something to clean us with,” he says, giving your ass a soft smack. “Don’t go anywhere,” 

“Does it look like I can move?” you answer with a lazy smile. You flop to your back and stretch. “Everything you need should be in the bathroom.” 

The Christmas lights that burn bright in the living room bathes the wall in a soft color. A rainbow illuminating the darkness. Santiago thinks of himself as lucky because there was no way he could’ve found his way to the bedroom, especially since his eye sight wasn’t what it used to be. Hints of cinnamon lingers in the air, he can also vaguely smell chocolate but he could have been imagining it. 

Santiago smiles when he finally spots the door of the bathroom. For the first time in a while he feels content, happy. The rain clouds above his head finally start to clear up a bit. 

Lost in thought, Santiago doesn’t see the small stand right next to the door. Shit! Fuck—Fuck! Pain spreads from his foot to his leg. His mouth clamps shut as he tries to keep the noise he makes to a minimum, his skin burning with the need to scream. He inhales deep, fast breaths, nostrils flaring everytime he fills his lungs. 

When the pain finally starts to subside a bit, he leans against the stand. His fingers twitch, the sound of paper crumpling reaches his ears. Raising an eyebrow, his gaze drops to the stand. He can barely see with the light now  shifting from red to blue, he waits for the yellow ones to come back and as it does, his breath gets stuck in his throat. 

“What the hell?” he whispers, eyes going wide. 

He spots at least five overdue notices, bills and notes for other made expenses. It doesn’t look like you can even last a month. 

The lights turn back to blue. 

His lips now a tight line, Santiago heads to the bathroom and picks up everything he needs to clean you up. He isn’t a fan of sticking his nose into other people’s business, but he can’t stand the idea of your dreams shattering like this. Especially not when you were so enthusiastic about every little thing you made.

He’ll have to make some calls tomorrow. 

Thank you all for reading! I'll probably post part two in either the end of december or january.

For some reason writing this was super duper hard??? Whenever I thought that I would finish it, I just didn't?? I've been struggling with this for a week, maybe even two, and I have no idea why. Actually, no, I think it had something to do with writing all of it from Santi's POV. Especially the smut since I'm so used to writing reader's pov but yeah, it was a challenge. However, I'm happy that I did it! Now that I know this weakness I can zero in on it sdcsdcs Thankfully, part 2 will be reader's pov so I can relax a bit

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it! I appreciate each and one of you, thank you for sticking around 💚

[pixexemefog]

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[sciralta]

VERY interested to know how choices is gonna do the revolving closet when they’re shipwrecked on a deserted fucking island

[obiwanobi]

Can I ask what your work actually is? I read your post about your schedule for August, and as someone with a degree in History, I found your tags about the Catholic world in the Middle Ages and the Roman aqueducts really interesting. :)

I’m in the history nerds team too, because I’m a lecturer/tour guide, that’s why I know a lot about VERY specific parts of History (and local traditions). Most of the monuments and towns where I work were built during Antiquity or the Middle Ages, so I can talk for hours about gallo-roman urban planning changing into medieval architecture, and religious syncretism in this one specific region between 120BC and 200AD, but I’m sometimes incapable of naming just one king between 1500 and 1800 🤷 

[sheepfulsheepyardinspace]

can u believe the fact that the jedi order canonically existed for 25,000 years? ur telling me that yoda was the fucking space pope for nearly a thousand  years (1/25th of the history of the order) and that’s mcfucking fine? can nobody in here write a decent religion? hinduism and judaism are about ~4,000 years old. you’re telling me that the jedi order existed for six times as long? that it would make sense if fucking pope sylvester ii was pope from the year 1008 to 2018? y’all can bite my ass. if the galactic empire lasts for twenty-three years (a, y’know, reasonable amount of time for an empire that unstable and widespread, a la napoleon) why the fuck is the jedi order hanging out with the goddamned space saber-tooth tigers? smdh

[seventh-fantasy]

Pope Thanawat + Bella Ranee fitting for Roy Leh Marnya ร้อยเล่ห์มารยา  (2018.10.10) (cr. 1 2)

[agoddamn]

On a very different note from my usual bitching, one fic trope (is it even a trope? More like an occurrence) I like a lot is Obi-Wan being like "haha of course I knew Anakin had a thing with Padme, I have eyes--what the FUCK do you mean he's married?!"

It's just a nice balance of in-character awareness (look, there's no way he didn't know) and in-character blindness; it feels pretty legit to me for Obi-Wan to assume that Anakin is doing the right thing (since...he does that a lot).

"What went wrong" fics tend to ride a lot on character ignorance to varying degrees of success. The prequels themselves run on lies and miscommunications and bad faith, but believable ignorance is a difficult balance to strike.

Frex, sometimes there's fic along the lines of "Anakin never asked what attachment is once over the course of like fifteen years and the entire SW universe is saved with one dictionary recitation". But I think it's selling Anakin far too short to ask me to believe that he was too dense to ask one question.

Anyway, the gap between relationship/marriage taboos makes the most sense to me for a lot of reasons. It feels the most believably plausible way for the Order to operate, too; it's a little improbable to me that a group that raises teenagers could ever enforce total romantic abstinence (or rather, expect anyone to voluntarily follow total romantic abstinence).

It's also pretty...well, obvious. It's right there in wedding vows that your spouse is your highest priority. Jedi have a specific allegiance to public service. It would honestly be unfair to a Jedi's spouse to ask them to live as a second priority--unfair to their possible children, as well. As hilarious as the saying is in reference to Star Wars, "you can't serve two masters".

It helps that there's a mirror to this practice in actual religious groups in the real world; I'd say that eschewing marriage is common in religious orders, even. It's not because the religion personally hates you and wants you to suffer or that they hate affection; it's that this is an established culture with an established practice and practicing in this way is definitional to them.

If you're a Catholic priest and want to get married, the solution is not to declare that the Pope is bullying you. You simply make a decision about what you want in your life; you can continue to be involved with the Catholic Church without being a priest.

Real-world religious groups provide a lot of useful tools for understanding the Jedi, actually. Probably because...the Jedi are a religious group. Like Buddhism, they're half-religion, half-philosophy, and half-culture in a way that makes it difficult to detangle practice from belief. Again, probably because...they are based on Buddhism.

tl;dr it's pretty legit for monks to not get married.