Ooh, That's A Bitable Butt 🔥🔥🔥

Ooh, that's a bitable butt 🔥🔥🔥

Just a little nibble, he won't even notice...

So, the boxers series...

I couldn't decide on a boxer/underwear sketch for Marc

And with all your suggestions with "Moon or Khonshu design to torment him"

He'd rather sit butt naked🤷🏻‍♀️

✨️My askbox is open for sketch ideas✨️

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Personal Heater

Santiago Pope Garcia x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: It's absolutely fucking freezing, luckily Santi is here to warm you up.

A/N: Sorry this took so long!

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, Santi kind of having a bit of an exhibition kink, overuse of italics, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2740

You’re sure Frankie is up to something by putting you and Santi in the same room. Certain of it. But even he couldn’t be blamed for the absolutely abysmal weather.

“It’s fucking freezing.” You grumble, failing to suppress a shiver as you enter the bedroom. Your day clothes are in your arms, bundled up into a ball you can quickly shove into your suitcase. Part of you thinks you should have just lugged your bag into the bathroom to change.

You’re dressed in a long sleeved pyjama top, and have tucked your jogging bottoms into your socks to try to stave off the cool air.

“Come here, I’ll warm you up.” Santi’s already in the bed, the covers bundled around himself protectively. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you’re almost tempted to throw the clothes you were wearing at his head. But he would probably like that.

You settle for a cheery, “Fuck off.” as you put your clothes away.

“I’m serious,” He grins, “nice and warm in here.”

“That’s because you’re hogging all the blankets,” you tut, but there’s no heat in it. You climb on the bed and yank the duvet away from him.

“Nooo, you’re letting all the warm air out.” He's a little tipsy, you know that. He’d had two too many glasses of that fancy Japanese whiskey Will had brought, not drunk, just pleasantly buzzed and a little less guarded than he would usually be.

He grabs your arm lightning fast and somehow flips you perfectly into the bed and on your side. Before you can even get a word out he’s pulling the covers back over you both and snuggling up to you, his chest pressing against your back. How is this idiot so warm when he’s only wearing boxers?

You stiffen, you really should protest or at least tell him to not wrap his arm so securely around your waist. But, fuck, if he isn’t warm. Like a little personal heater blasting the icy air away. And despite the uncertainty ringing in your head, you relax into his embrace. It was just to help with the temperature. That was all.

Somehow he inches closer, breathing hot onto the back of your neck. “Hmm, you smell nice.” He mutters, as if that was a completely normal thing to say to a friend who you were sharing a bed with.

“I’m not going to sleep with you Santi.”

“But that’s what beds are for?” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“You know what I mean.”

“No?” He’s enjoying this far, far too much.

“I’m not going to fuck you. There, happy?”

“No and why?”

You shift a little, turning so you can look at him over your shoulder. “What?”

“No, I’m not happy,” he grins, “and why won’t you fuck me?”

He speaks too quickly for you to get a word in edgeways.

“Tired? I’ll fuck you if you want, you don’t need to lift a finger.”

“Santi,” You really do try to put a firm, commanding tone in your voice, but it doesn’t come out very convincing at all.

“We fucked on Monday, you liked that.”

“Santi-”

“And three times on Sunday, so-”

“Santi.”

He tries to bite back his smile, pressing closer to you. “I like it when you get all authoritative.”

You give him a look and he lightly bites at your shoulder. Your relationship with Santi was… god you didn’t want to say complicated. Unconventional. Friends with benefits was too casual, but you weren’t dating. And you haven’t told anyone, even though he was regularly blowing your back out several times a week.

“I know you want to… if you really don’t, tell me now, but I think there’s something else going on here.” He stares at you with those stupidly large eyes, the ones you’re sure he reserves for mental manipulation of the highest order.

You want to say something back, something smart to put him in his place. But you can’t think of a god damned thing. So you stare at him, with a slowly weakening frown while his own small smile spreads.

“I think,” he shuffles a little higher, so he can press his lips to the shell of your ear and grind the semi hard outline of his cock against the swell of your ass. “That if I,” he thumbs at your waistband, snapping it softly before he slowly slips his fingers underneath, “just touch here,” he glides down brushing against your clit and the edge of your folds, “fuck.” He swallows, his hips bucking instinctively. “God, you’re so wet. Did you make yourself come in the bathroom?”

Heat floods your veins and he groans, his eyes rolling back at the thought.

“That desperate not to be seduced by me?” He teases, lightly biting your ear and sinking his fingers in deeper.

You gasp, arching towards his touch and the thick stretch of his fingers. He kisses your neck greedily as he gives you what you want, moving so that he can slip further inside and stoke while his thumb rubs rhythmically against your clit.

You squirm under his touch, trying to hold back your moans. Santi hooks his free hand under your pyjamas and pulls them down to your thighs.

“Tell me why? Hmm?” He purrs, his voice heavy. “Why-”

“I don’t want the others to hear us.” You whisper, insecurity twisting in your chest even as pleasure grows in your stomach.

“Oh, baby,” he purrs, kissing along your jaw to your lips and licking into your mouth when you moan. “I didn’t take you as shy?”

He presses firmly on your walls, a spot he has memorised, and your eyes roll back. “Santi,” you swallow, trying to keep your voice down.

“You are a bit of a screamer with me though,” he teases, his voice controlled despite the rapid, desperate beat of his heart. He easily manoeuvres you onto your back. “I don’t want to give the other guys a complex,” he increases his speed a fraction, biting his lip at the sound of your slick and placing the palm of his free hand over your mouth.

He leans closer. “Don’t want to make them ashamed that they can’t make someone come as hard as I can.”

You moan desperately against his hand, your eyes closed tight. You miss his love sick expression as he watches you, how his mouth parts as you tense.

“God baby, please.” He harshly whispers, groaning as you grind down on his fingers. “Let me see you come.”

You’re more than thankful for the hand against your lips as your pleasure crests and drags you down into bliss. Your thighs shake, back arching as your orgasm is dragged from you and then snaps like elastic.

You breathe hard, spaced out and a little dazed until you feel Santi completely yanking off your pyjama bottoms and burying his face between your legs. He moans headily, loudly, too high off your pleasure to stop himself as he sinks his tongue inside and drinks down your release.

His hands squeeze your thighs, encouraging you to practically suffocate him as he licks and swirls. You bite your lip and grab hold of the back of his head as you buck into the heat of his mouth.

He ruts against the mattress, trying to relieve the smallest fraction of the painful ache between his legs.

“Santi,” you manage not to scream. “Please,” you gasp, pleasure burning along your veins, your previous orgasm hardly dying down before it was ignited again.

In desperation, you hastily grab a pillow and shove it over your face. Your lungs fill with the scent of fresh linen, your fingers digging into the material as your back arches.

He laps at your folds greedily, the sound echoing around the room in time with the squeak of the bed springs. Gently, he presses two fingers inside, stroking again at the same spot that had made you fall apart only moments ago.

This time his touch is lighter, slow and steady as he rubs, a sharp juxtaposition to the quick and firm movements of his eager tongue.

You gasp, the air catching in your lungs and Santi groans. The syrupy sound of his enjoyment is what throws you over the edge. You come hard, your muscles shaking as you spasm and scream into the pillow. Your vision whites out as pleasure explodes along your nerves, robbing you of thought and strength for gloriously long seconds.

He works you through it, slowing his movements as you relax.

Languidly, he sits up and pulls the pillow off your face. He’s grinning, far, far too pleased with himself.

You pretend to smack him in the side with the pillow, stopping before you make contact, and he flinches, giggling.

The bottom half of his face is wet, your cum shining against his stubble. He lays down next to you on his side, his head propped up on his elbow.

His left hand traces patterns along your stomach. “Love how quick you can come after you already have.” For a moment you think about teasing him a little, but instead, you give his hand a little squeeze. “Only ever done that with you.”

“Fuck,” He buries his face into the pillow under your head, groaning as his cock throbs, “don’t give me a bigger ego here.”

You snort, and it quickly turns into a giggle as he presses light, tickly kisses along your neck. He grins, moving closer as you try to squirm away. “Thought you liked my kisses?”

You shift, biting back your laughter, and your hip brushes against his aching erection.

Santi moans low in his chest, his throat bobbing.

“Shh,” You giggle again, playfully clapping your hand over his mouth, “I’m gonna have to be the one to keep you quiet.”

You mean it as a tease, nothing more. But he shivers, his eyebrows pinching together as he presses his face into your palm and whines.

Heat stirs in your stomach. You bite your lip. “Maybe you’d like that?” You whisper, your voice barely audible. “Maybe you want to just…”

His eyes are hazy when he opens them, dark and pleading. He nods softly, keeping his mouth firmly against your hand. As he swallows, his throat bobs, his fingers tightening on your hip.

“Lay down.” You say softly and he moves without hesitation, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s flat on his back against the mattress.

He tucks his hands under the pillow, hooking his fingers around the edge of the headboard. You don’t give him a chance to give you a nervous look, to get all in his head about asking for something he wants.

You pull his boxers down to his knees and Santi raises his hips, wriggling a little to help you slide them off. His cock bounces free, hard and leaking as it snaps back against his stomach, looking practically painful with how aroused he is.

You place one hand back onto his mouth while you kneed his balls with the other. His reaction is instantaneous, his back arches as his moan vibrates against your palm, his eyes screwed up tight.

You bite back a smile as you run your fingers up higher, languidly tracing the underside of his length as he twitches under you.

Santi’s fingers tighten around the bottom of the headboard, his knuckles paling as he bucks up into your hand.

He moves his face to the side slightly, just enough so that he can speak clearly, “Please can you, can you sit on me and come again?”

You go to pull your hand away from his mouth completely, but he shakes his head and presses his lips back to your palm before looking up at you with sweet eyes. Okay, he still wanted that.

You give him a soft look and kiss the tip of his nose, making the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles before you sit on his lap and line yourself up with him. He’s warm under your hand, hard and thick, and when he starts to sink inside he lets out a long, deep groan.

For a moment, you’re almost sure he’s taking the piss, purposefully being as loud as possible. But his eyes have rolled back, his body tense and shaking. And you are very sure none of this is for show.

He stretches you wide as you ease down, your body singing as he slips deeper and deeper. You drop your hips a little faster, revelling in the whine and moan Santi rewards you with. When he’s finally completely sheathed you lean forward, turning his chin ever so slightly to the side so that you can whisper in his ear.

“Fuck Santi,” you put on a bit of a voice, just to rile him up.

He moans again and you giggle.

“You like this don’t you?” You mutter as you start to slowly roll your hips against him. “Got a bit of a thing for being heard?”

He shakes his head, but you can see the glean in his eyes. He most definitely did.

“Want everyone to know you’re getting your brains fucked out?”

He groans loudly, his muscles flexing as he fights the urge to thrust up rabidly. Instead, he rocks slowly with you, more than happy to let you control the pace.

Pleasure flows and pulses along your skin, twisting a turning as you move your hips. It starts to set deeper, pulling at your bones and demanding you to give in and fully chase the sensation. You lean up slightly, taking your palm off his mouth so that you can prop yourself up with both hands on either side of his head.

“Oh fuck, baby, please,” he groans, panting. There’s no fucking way that the room next door can’t hear him. “Fuck, yes.”

He spreads his legs, making you dip forward and practically growling as he thrusts up into your tight, wet heat.

“Santi,” you hiss, gasping for air as he robs you of it. Spiking the pleasure in your blood to dizzying levels.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes,” he swallows, pulling one hand away from the headboard so that he can press against the small of your back, pushing your clit against his pubic bone so that he can buck and roll and hit just right every single time.

You gasp and he groans, whining as you pant and share oxygen. He leans up so he can kiss you roughly, all tongue and teeth and moans. His fingers tighten over your skin, his breathing hitching.

The bed springs creak, the headboard smacking against the wall with every bounce. And still Santi manages to be louder than all of them.

The head of his cock brushes deliciously deep across your walls and you tense, your pace faltering as pleasure presses along your nerves, so close that you’re ready to burst.

“Fuck,” he bites his lip, pulling back a fraction so that he can stare up at you, and angles his hips to hit there again.

Your thighs shake, the pleasure so close and intense you forget how to breathe.

“Fuck, god, yes,” he hits there again and again and again, his lips parted and desperate. “God, keep squeezing me like that!” He gasps, convulsing as you bury your face into his neck and bite down to stifle your moans.

Your orgasm hits you in a rush, liquifying your brain as your body moves instinctively, pulling every single drop of pleasure it can.

Santi follows you seconds later, swearing and cursing and muttering praises as you milk his cock for all he’s worth. It’s like he can’t stop coming, can’t come down from the high as he spills himself inside you and floats on ecstasy.

He holds you close as you both recover, stroking your back soothingly.

“I think I lost brain cells.” He mutters.

You giggle, “What?”

“I genuinely think you fucked some of my brain out.” He repeats and you laugh harder.

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “You feeling warmer now?”

You tut and lift yourself up a little so you can give him a gentle, playful shove. He catches your wrist before you can and lightly bites the side of your hand.

“Oi,” You snort, “I’ll have to gag you.”

He groans and gives you a dark look, his softening cock twitching inside you. “Next time.”

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