#diablita | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

holyblonded · 22 days ago

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other mother | stargirl

pairings: olga rios x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader, jenni hermoso x teen!reader

summary: jenni is in town and your closeness with her has olga feeling insecure as her position as your mother

notes: my inbox was flooded with people asking for this so here yall go 😀

“It’s Jenni Day!” you cheered as you practically skipped down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet in excitement. The smell of your favorite omelet filled the air, and when you entered the kitchen, you saw Olga at the stove, expertly flipping an egg while Alexia sat at the breakfast bar, sipping her tea.

“Jenni Day, Jenni Day, Jenni Day!” You chanted, throwing in a dramatic spin before moonwalking across the kitchen floor.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head at your antics. “I take it you’re excited?”

“Yes! Do you know why?” You grinned, pointing at her like a game show host about to reveal the grand prize. “Because it’s Jenni Day!”

You launched into another celebratory dance, arms flailing, feet shuffling, completely lost in your own little world. Alexia laughed into her tea, and even Olga cracked a smile as she plated your omelet.

“You have way too much energy this early,” Olga mused, setting your plate in front of you.

“Of course I do! Jenni is coming, and it’s been forever since I last saw her!” You threw yourself into the stool next to Alexia, bouncing in place. “We’re still going to the airport to pick her up, right?”

Alexia nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. You frowned, confused, whoever was here was intruding on your special celebration.

Alexia stood to answer it, but the moment the door swung open, a familiar voice rang out.

“¡Mi pequeño diabla!” (My little devil)

Your eyes widened in pure joy. “Jenni!”

Without hesitation, you bolted from your seat, sprinting across the kitchen and launching yourself into her arms. Jenni caught you with ease, laughing as she lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.

“My diablita, look at you! Have you grown? Or am I just getting old?” she teased, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over your face.

You giggled, squeezing her tight. “You’re ancient, Jenni.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “¡Qué mala!” She set you down only for you to immediately latch onto her side, practically glued to her as you dragged her toward the breakfast bar.

“Okay, okay, come sit! I have so much to tell you!” You pulled her into the seat next to yours, eyes bright with excitement. “You missed so much! Oh my god, wait, did you see my last match? And also, you have to see this new trick I learned— oh! And guess what? I have a girlfriend now! Her name is Soleil, and she’s the best, and I need to show you pictures—”

Jenni listened with an amused smile, nodding along as you spoke a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with your hands.

Meanwhile, Olga, who had turned back to the stove, found herself oddly quiet. She glanced over her shoulder at the way you clung to Jenni, the way you looked at her like she hung the moon, and something inside her twisted.

She knew Jenni had been in your life for years, had played a huge role in your childhood, especially when she and Alexia had been together. She understood the excitement, the affection— but still, as she stood there, spatula in hand, watching you practically vibrate with happiness in Jenni’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel like she was standing on the outside looking in.

Alexia noticed the shift in Olga’s demeanor, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way she suddenly seemed overly focused on the eggs she was cooking.

“You okay?” Alexia murmured, nudging Olga gently.

Olga forced a small smile. “Yeah… just not used to being replaced so quickly.”

Alexia sighed, wrapping an arm around Olga’s waist and pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple. “She loves you, you know that.”

“I know,” Olga admitted. “But right now, I think I’m just the lady who made her breakfast.”

Before Alexia could respond, your voice rang out again.

“Olga, come sit with us!” You turned to her, waving her over with an enthusiastic hand. “You have to hear this story Jenni’s telling!”

Olga hesitated for a split second before schooling her expression, pushing aside the small pang of insecurity.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, finally taking the empty seat next to you.

And when you instinctively reached for her hand, squeezing it without even looking as you continued talking to Jenni, Olga felt some of that uncertainty ease.

The bell above the door chimed as you bounced into your favorite café, your hand wrapped around Soleil’s while Jenni strolled beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders like she never left. Alexia and Olga trailed behind, already making their way to the counter to order drinks while you led Jenni and Soleil to a cozy booth near the window.

“You’re gonna love this place,” you told Jenni, excitement bubbling in your voice. “They have the best pastries, and they always write little messages on the coffee cups.”

Jenni smirked, sliding into the seat across from you and Soleil. “I trust your taste, mi diablita.”

You turned to Soleil, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you two sooner! Jenni basically helped raise me. Like, she taught me how to ride a bike, took me to all my first pro matches, and—” you leaned in, stage whispering—“everything I know about being a striker? All from her.”

Soleil smiled warmly, looking at Jenni with clear appreciation. “That explains why you’re such a menace on the field.”

Jenni grinned. “Ah, so you’ve witnessed her chaos firsthand.”

Soleil laughed. “Every day.”

You laughed too, leaning into Jenni’s side and hugging her tightly. “She’s the best, Sol. When Ale and Jenni were dating, she was always around, always looking out for me. And even after… you know, they broke up, she never disappeared. She’s family.”

Jenni pressed a fond kiss to your temple. “Always.”

Across the café, Olga stood in line, watching the interaction with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. You were radiant, so full of joy, clinging to Jenni like she was your lifeline. The way you looked at her, the way you spoke about her, all of it made Olga’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew Jenni had been a part of your life long before she had. She knew Jenni had played a big role in raising you. But knowing it and watching it were two different things.

Alexia, standing beside her, caught the shift in Olga’s expression immediately. Without hesitation, she bumped Olga’s shoulder gently. “You good, amor?”

Olga plastered on a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

Alexia didn’t buy it for a second. “You’re watching them like they just stole your puppy.”

Olga sighed, glancing away. “I just… she clearly loves Jenni. And I get it, Jenni was there when she was little, she taught her all these things, helped raise her—” she exhaled sharply— “but I’m supposed to be her mother now. And sometimes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill that space the way Jenni did.”

Alexia frowned, reaching for Olga’s hand and squeezing it. “Olga, you are her mother. She chose you, we chose you. That doesn’t change just because she loves Jenni too.”

Olga’s grip tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. “I know, but it’s different. She looks at Jenni like she’s the person who made her who she is. I just… I don’t want to be second place in something that means everything to me.”

Olga’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she watched you practically drape yourself over Jenni, your eyes shining with admiration as you told Soleil story after story about how Jenni had shaped you. Every time you hugged Jenni, every time you laughed at something she said, every time you looked at her like she was one of the most important people in your world— it chipped away at something deep inside Olga.

She wasn’t jealous, not exactly. It wasn’t that she wanted to erase Jenni’s role in your life. It was the fear that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much love she gave, no matter how fiercely she protected you, she would always be playing catch up to the people who had come before her.

Jenni had been there for your firsts. Your first bike ride, your first professional match, your first real football lessons. She had guided you, shaped you, made you into the player, and person, you were now. And Olga? She had come in when you were already a teenager, already formed, already carrying years of love for people who had been there long before she was.

Would you ever look at her the way you looked at Jenni? Would you ever talk about her like that, with that same effortless fondness, that same unshakable attachment? Or would she always be the afterthought, the one who came later, the one who did the daily work of being your mother but never quite felt like she had earned the title?

She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they stuck, clinging to her like wet clothes. The café was warm, but suddenly, she felt cold.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of the bathroom light spilling in through the cracked door. The sound of running water filled the silence, Alexia still in the shower. You padded in quietly, rubbing your tired eyes, ready to burrow under the blankets and curl up against Olga like you did every night. But as you climbed onto the bed, something felt… off.

Olga was facing away from you, curled into herself, her shoulders rising and falling in uneven breaths. The second you got closer, you heard it— a soft sniff, barely audible, but enough to make your chest tighten.

“Olga?” you murmured, shifting closer, pressing against her back. “What’s wrong?”

She stiffened, wiping at her face quickly. “Nothing, nena. Just tired.”

Liar. You frowned, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re sniffling.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Allergies.”

You huffed. “You don’t have allergies.”

She didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand and squeezed it, like that would be enough to convince you she was fine. But you weren’t convinced. You could feel the sadness radiating off her, pressing into the space between you.

You lay there for a moment, racking your brain. What could’ve happened? She’d been fine earlier at the café. Or at least, she’d seemed fine. Maybe something happened after? You were deep in thought when you caught movement from the bathroom door.

Alexia had stepped out, her hair damp, her towel wrapped around her as she glanced at Olga and then at you. The moment you made eye contact, she raised her brows and nodded toward Olga, then dramatically mimicked wiping away tears.

You squinted at her. She nodded toward the door, signaling that she was leaving you to it, but not before she started her silent charades. She made a small motion, pointing at herself, then at Olga, then at you. Then she held up one finger. First? No. She repeated the movement, then mimed kicking a ball, then pointed at you again. Your brain worked through it. First. Football. You. It was about Jenni. Everything clicked at once, the way Olga had gone quiet while you were talking to Jenni, the way she lingered at the edge of the conversation instead of joining in. She was feeling insecure.

Alexia gave you a knowing look before slipping back into the bathroom, leaving you alone with Olga.

You exhaled softly, tightening your grip on her waist as you pressed your forehead against her shoulder. “Is this about Jenni?”

Olga’s breath hitched for a second before she let out a small laugh, watery and tired. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, just curled further into her, letting the silence settle before you spoke again. “Olga,” you started softly, “I need you to hear me, okay?”

She didn’t answer, but you could feel her breathing, steady but fragile, like she was waiting for you to say something that would make this ache in her chest go away.

You took a deep breath. “You are my mom.” You said it plainly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Jenni was there for me when I was a kid, yeah, and I’ll always love her for that, but that doesn’t take away from you. It never could.”

Olga stayed quiet, but you felt her relax just a little.

“You have been there for me in ways no one else has,” you continued. “You were there when I signed my first contract. You held my hand through that whole process because I was freaking out. You were there when I made my debut. You were the first person I looked for when I got subbed on. Do you know that?”

Olga swallowed. “Nena…”

“No, listen.” You sat up slightly, resting your weight on your elbow as you looked at her. “You were there the first time I got called up to the USWNT. You were there when I scored my first international goal, screaming like a crazy person in the stands. You were the one who stayed up with me when I had that awful stomach bug last year, even though you had training the next morning. You always carry snacks for me in your bag, you know exactly how I like my tea, you check in on me even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Olga wiped at her eyes, her lip trembling.

“You do all of that because you’re my mom, Mama.” Your voice softened. “You are the one who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I had a home, who made me believe that being loved wasn’t something I had to fight for.”

She let out a quiet sob, turning in your arms to pull you against her. You felt the dampness of her tears against your shirt as she buried her face in your shoulder, and you held her as tightly as she held you.

“I love you,” you whispered. “So much. I don’t care how many people were there before you, you are my mom. No one could ever replace you.”

Olga squeezed you impossibly tighter. “I love you too, mi niña.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the sound of Alexia clearing her throat from the bathroom doorway made you both look up.

“If you’re done making me cry from the other side of the door,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “can I get in on this cuddle session?”

You laughed, tugging Olga down with you as Alexia climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around both of you. And as you lay there, safe in the warmth of your family, you felt ii, Olga’s steady heartbeat beneath your palm, the rise and fall of her breath, the silent, unspoken promise that she was yours and you were hers, and that would never change.

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svnmih · 2 years ago

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' ¿qué acusaciones son esas, mercury? ' finge indigarse, frunciendo sus cejas en actuado desentendimiento ' no me puedo aprovechar de algo que no sé su limíte ' murmura, con sus ojos brillando en gracia. en un mundo de humanos la bondad era simple, tareas cotidianas que te acercaban al infierno o el cielo. ¿eras buen vecino, buen hijo y buen amigo? felicidades, al cielo. ¿todo lo contrario? bienvenido al infierno. de existir alguno de esos dos polos, claro. pero en la inmortalidad... ah, ¿dónde empezaba la bondad y dónde empezaba el egoísmo por querer un beneficio propio? ¿existía alguna línea, acaso? ' ¿qué estás dispuesto a darme, hm? ¿hasta dónde llega tu bondad? ' mentón ligeramente alzado exige respuestas, interés incrustrado en su mirada que no se aparta ni un segundo. voz se oye condenadamente suave, casi susurradas. ' no estoy intentando nada. ya entendí que los gashapones no están en juego ' alza las manos con inocencia, como si no estuviera moviendo ninguna pieza en el ajedrez. aún no, al menos. ' me ofende que mi bondad no esté siendo reconocida, de hecho. ¿no debería estar cobrando el favor que me debes? ' no lo hará, al menos no esa noche. contrario le resulta interesante, ¿por qué no guardar ese az bajo la manga un tiempo más? aplasta una sonrisa, buscando borronear cualquier atisbo de la misma en lo que rueda irises. ' cuidado, o no tendré más remedio que retenerte para mí toda la noche ' sigue el juego, con su mirada solaz. incluso cuando idea no sonaba para nada mal. ' ya sabes... me gustan los tatuajes con cada detalle a la perfección ' justifica al segundo con mentiras su pretexto de querer retenerlo en su compañía. ' prefiero dejar el pasado donde está, pero... ' suelta un pequeño suspiro, y sabe que se está dejando llevar cuando está por compartir un dato de aquello que dejó enterrado con su supervivencia. ' esto resumiría a la perfección mi pasado ' alza el tatuaje de un ramo de flores. es un mensaje ambiguo, lo sabe. las flores son la representación del lugar donde fue más feliz e irónicamente también significó el fin de su vida. ' si buscabas averiguar mi edad tendrás que esforzarte más ' devuelve la jocosidad a sus vocablos. mirada se desvía brevemente a un costado, allí donde hay una vidriera que solo refleja al masculino. espera que la oscuridad haya escondido su sonrisa triste. un suspiro pesado la delató. ' una lástima que no vaya a poder ver tu arduo trabajo, ¿hm? ' signos de nostalgia se funden en un tonito neutro que pretendió ser jovial al bromear. ' tus ojos tendrán que ser los míos, mercury ' informa, acortando un poco más la distancia. ' tendrás que narrarme como si fuera una obra, detalle por detalle ' susurra, pidiendo el favor implícito. es la única forma de imaginarse a sí misma en su cabeza. ' también tendrás que decidir si me quedan mejor aquí... ' toma mano ajena entre la suya, posando el dedo índice impropio en su cuello. ' por aquí ' roza abdomen propio donde dermis está al descubierto. ' o por aquí... ' deja la mano ajena en libertad para poder arremangar sus brazos, dejándolos libres de cualquier tela. @dckhwn

en su desfachatez al enfrentar aristas de vida, si hay algo que no ha perdido jamás es la persistencia por mantener un carácter diligente para aquellos procesos que se obliga a repetir, que le ayudan a mantener alejada a parte inhumana y a no perder el control de su propia mente. un meticuloso cuidado que para él, no significa eliminar lo destructivo. los límites son difusos allí en el limbo del tabú de la muerte en el que se encuentra. ' creí ser claro al pedirte que no te aproveches de mi bondad ' y lealtad a promesas era verdadera, ahí mismo en nubloso limbo en el que toda su yuxtaposición de valores se encuentra, corazón se mantiene firme ante lo que cree. le dedica una sonrisa, y si da unos pasos hacia quien igual le enfrenta son apenas perceptibles en parsimonia. ' ¿ es lo que intentas hacer ahora ? ' entrecierra los ojos entonces, sin borrar aquella curvatura que gentil deja que aquella diversión que siente en conversación sea dibujada para la mujer. ' más de cincuenta años de experiencia en el rubro y cuento con todo el tiempo del mundo para ti ' falsa seriedad es comprometida por la manera en que ladea el rostro, llevando aquella mano donde tiene el gashapon por encima de su corazón al asentir con breve rapidez y estirando uno de los pequeños tatuajes con dedos de opuesta. ' creo que una estética moderna te sentaría bien pero podrías usar unos tatuajes de marinero y adaptarte a otra época ' a eso acostumbraban los vástagos después de todo, y es por eso mismo que en última pregunta curiosidad por ajena sale a relucir. ' ¿ lo contemporáneo te sienta bien o prefieres tu pasado ? ' quizás aquel estaba más cerca de lo que pensaba, o más lejano. era difícil hacer estimativos. @svnmih

#PERDÓN LO LARGO MI REINA #soy una diablita para las biblias #KLJADKLJSAD not los emojis #me sigue causando imaginarme a mercury como el suspicious dog #ㅤㅤ⁀ ㅤㅤꗃㅤ ㅤ﹫𝒑𝒐𝒑!ㅤㅤ ݃ ㅤㅤconversación.

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artnew3003 · 2 years ago

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#scarlett diablita

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notjustjavierpena · 2 years ago

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Marks

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: For all you who wanted to have more of husband!Javi and The Peñas. This is a follow-up to All Roads Lead To Someone! Pregnant!reader getting the right treatment.

Summary: Javier just wanna fuck you: His gorgeous pregnant wife.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), pregnancy sex, mentions of f masturbation, body issues, domestic bliss, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, love!!!

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48631087

Marks

“Por favor,” Javier begs as he kisses your shoulder from behind and has you shivering because of how sensitive your skin is at the moment. He keeps it innocent though, because there’s a kitchen knife lying to your right as you are rinsing the vegetables for tonight’s dinner. He doesn’t relent though and a wandering hand squeezes the side of your thigh, “I can see it on you.”

��Inés is coloring in the living room and you have to pick up Lucas from soccer practice soon. We can’t,” you say simply, batting his hand away with a disapproving click of your tongue. As if it’s not bothering you as well.

You turn up the water pressure to rinse the carrots that you have gotten from Chucho Peña’s farm, but decide to scrub it with your hand instead to remove the dirt properly.

As promised, the beginning of your third trimester brings along a constant ache between your thighs. Javier has sensed it coming, counted the days and is now circling you like a shark on the hunt.

It comes after a drought; a whole month of you not being able to stand the sight of him, even his smell making you furious and causing him to be skittish around your pregnant form. He isn’t skittish anymore. Quite the opposite.

“I could find the baby alarm in the drawer. We could go to the bedroom for just a few minutes,” he suggests and you instantly roll your eyes without him being able to see it. When you don’t answer, he steps back but only to lean against the kitchen counter beside your workspace.

You would love it; you would jump your husband’s bones at every opportunity that you get to have him relieve you of the dull throb of your clit, but… You’re in your third trimester with stretch marks, a sore back, an overactive bladder and a baby that kicks you so hard that you feel out of breath sometimes. All in all, it’s hard to feel sexy and it’s easier to take care of it yourself.

“Go entertain yourself, if you catch my drift,” you retort and make a suggestive hand movement along the carrot in your sink.

Javier snorts bitterly, “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” a little girl’s voice repeats. Inés has entered the kitchen.

Javier and you freeze, but whereas you narrow your eyes at Javier, your husband just starts laughing and goes to ruffle his daughter’s hair, “There she is, mi diablita.”

“We don’t use that word around here, Daddy’s very sorry that he said it,” you dry your hands in a towel and turn towards the both of them. Javier gets a raised brow and stops laughing.

He groans as he stretches from having bent over to pick Inés up, settling her on his hip and giving you a soft smile. He takes her little hand in his own, swaying back and forth with her as if they are slow dancing. The way she cuddles up to him has you melting right away, placing your folded hands on your protruding belly.

“Te quiero mucho,” you say affectionately and walk up to both of them. You kiss Inés’ hair, then look at Javier, “But you can’t keep swearing in a house full of children.”

“Sorry, mi amor. Perhaps if you let me…” Javier looks down at his daughter who curiously observes the conversation between her parents. He finds your eyes again, “If you let me hug you real hard tonight, I might be reminded.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a smile on your face this time. There’s something insanely sexy about him like this, still swaying with Inés on his hip and secretly booking an appointment with you in your shared bedroom.

“Dónde está Lucas?” Inés then interrupts.

“Soccer practice,” he replies, winking at you when Inés can’t see it. You hate that it makes your heart jump as if it's been shocked. Beside you, Javier is oblivious to your schoolgirl crush, “You want to come with me to pick him up?”

Inés nods enthusiastically, starting to move around in Javier’s arms to indicate that she wants to be put down on the floor again, “I made Lucas a picture.”

“You can give it to him in the car,” Javier watches his daughter run off into the living room again. You’ve turned towards the sink once more, and he takes a chance to walk up behind you. You feel his hand come down playfully on your ass, causing you to jump where you are standing.

“You little—“ you whip around, but are met with Javier’s shit-eating grin. Oh, curse him.

“You and I have a deal tonight, sí?”

“Yes, yes, whatever, get out of my kitchen.”

Lucas eats like he has been starving for days. Inés talks loudly about what she’s seen at the soccer field, especially about the fact that she got permission to kick the ball a few times.

You listen with a soft expression on your face, leaned back in your dining chair with a hand resting on top of your belly. The baby is kicking but since you’re not in bed and therefore still walking around the house, it’s not as bad as it could be.

Javier talks just as enthusiastically about their adventure out on the soccer field. Lucas adds that he might be picked as goalkeeper. You get up to kiss his hair repeatedly and call him your little man to which he giggles in a way that makes you overly emotional, eventually to the point where you have to excuse and keep yourself busy.

All in all, dinner ends and tucking the kids in goes smoothly. They are both tired beyond belief.

Later, you stare at yourself in the mirror as Javier brushes his teeth in the master bathroom. You are completely undressed since it’s better for you to sleep naked these days, but it has the downside of catching yourself in the mirror as you pass it and frowning slightly as you notice a new stretch mark along your side. You swear under your breath, trying your hardest to tell yourself (for the third time in your life) that this is part of growing a new and healthy life. You sigh loudly.

Behind you, Javier enters the bedroom in his underwear and nearly doubles over as he sees you naked already. He stalks after you with the energy of someone who has been starved of food for weeks, walking up behind you with dark lust-filled eyes that go soft as soon as he sees your face in the mirror.

“You okay, mi amor?” He asks, looking at you through the mirror. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest as his hands link around your belly, “Look at you.”

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him, too busy to look at him when you’re staring at your own naked form. Javier starts rubbing his hands over the strained skin of your stomach, soothing it with his warmth.

“Sure about what?” He sounds a little confused, but then catches on, “About wanting to hug you real hard? Don’t think I’m the uncertain one here. What’s wrong?”

“Look,” you point to the newest mark along the swell of your stomach, then run your finger over it. It is red and slightly raised, having made itself known by itching all day, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get these as quickly during the first two. It’s not exactly sexy.”

“Who on earth told you that?” Javier places a kiss on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose along your neck afterwards. He finds your pouty face in the mirror again, “Are you telling me there’s people out there who don’t think their wife is the sexiest when she’s growing their kid?”

You turn around in his arms to slap his naked chest, but he just grabs at your hips to steer you backwards towards the double bed. Carefully, he helps you to sit down when you feel the edge dig into the back of your calves.

“I mean it, Javi,” you say with a soft sigh as you are finally off your feet for the day.

“I mean it too,” he motions with his hand, “Now crawl back and let me take care of my pregnant and sexy wife.”

He is too perfect for you.

“How sensitive are you today?” He asks casually as he follows you onto the bed, kneeling between your legs and easing himself out of his boxers. It’s quite reassuring to your confidence to see his cock stand upright from how hard he is for you.

He is right to ask about your sensitivity, because pregnancy hormones and more blood flow has been overwhelming during all your previous pregnancies. You are more sensitive due to that, swollen and puffy no matter what time of day or what your previous activity has been. It makes for delicious sex, at least if you have someone who treats you right. Javier Peña does.

“I don’t think you can go too rough tonight, I’ve been aching and wet all day,” you reply as you settle into your pillow and grab his for him to place underneath your back.

“And you refused this earlier?” He raises a brow as he watches you lower your hips onto the pillow, “You got some self-control.”

“I was going to just take care of it whilst you were putting the kids to bed,” you nod towards the dresser where the both of you keep your toys, safely tucked away from curious children.

“I woulda never forgiven you,” he chuckles, leaning over you to kiss your swollen belly. He skims a hand over the stretch marks afterwards. It’s a silent compliment, “But just to involve myself in your playtime… which toy had you been thinking of?”

“The glass one,” you feel your face heat up as you confess to having wanted to masturbate, “Might’ve cooled me down a little, but if it wasn’t going to be that one, I’d want the g-spot massager.”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Javier dramatically groans at that. He rests his forehead against your stomach, “Let me be your g-spot massager.”

You laugh loudly at that, but it earns you a kick from your baby, causing you to wince when it lands right underneath your ribs. Javier pulls back a little in shock, placing his palm over the spot when he has just felt your stomach move.

“Be nice to your mother,” he scolds softly, “I know you want to be rocked to sleep, mi bebito, but gimme a second here. I’ll get to it.”

“Javi!” You cover your face with your hands, “God, you are so… imagine if people could hear you.”

Javier peels your hands away, looking devilishly down at you, “Don’t hide from me, and please let me f— take care of you.”

“Not going to say the bad word again, huh?” You grin triumphantly, scooting a little closer to him but without sliding off the pillow.

“Not right this instant, but I am for sure going to make you say it before we’re done here,” he smirks, wasting no time to stroke himself a few times and then sliding into your wet heat. The moan you want to let out is desperate and wanton, but with two sleeping children in the house, you only let yourself whimper quietly.

Javier holds your gaze intensely as he feeds your cunt his dick inch by inch, letting you relish in the slightly painful stretch of your walls as he bottoms out and settles inside of you like you’re made for him.

“Feeling good? Not uncomfortable?” He asks in a whisper, voice strained as if trying to hold something back within himself. You know that your pregnant body is as glorious for him as it is for you as your pussy’s walls feel softer, warmer and tighter than usual and especially now that you’re in one of your states.

“I’m perfect… God, I’ve wanted this since you kissed me this morning,” you exaggerate to prove it, resting a hand on top of your stomach. Javier places one of his own on top, curling his fingers around your palm.

“Te amo,” he says with so much love in his voice that you might melt into the mattress, holding onto your hand tightly as he moves inside of you, experimentally at first and then building up a rhythm that has you feeling dizzy with finally getting what you want. Something is already brewing behind your clit, and Javier knows you come so easily when your hormones play tricks on you. He goes a little faster.

Your other hand comes up to grab at the headboard behind your head, gripping hard as the bed squeaks under the both of you. There’s a desperate need to be loud that you reluctantly keep pushing away, swearing to yourself that you will plan a weekend trip away from home to have Javier fuck you until you scream. You wonder if Chucho can babysit.

“Tell me I fuck you so good,” Javier interrupts your thoughts.

“Just like that, ah,” you reply breathlessly, “Keep going. You treat me so well, baby.”

“You feel so fucking good, mi amor,” he moans quietly as he continues rocking into your cunt. The wet squelches are dirty evidence that he knows exactly how to fuck you until you can’t comprehend the world around you. When you accidentally cry out, he shushes you, “Shhh, baby, I know. Right there?”

He punctuates the last word by giving you a particularly hard thrust against your g-spot and your hand on the headboard flies down to cover your own mouth. You nod frantically, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure increases significantly and the sensitivity borders on overwhelming.

“You look so good pregnant with my baby,” he praises, slickly sliding in and out of you with ease. Your sheets are soaked with your wetness, “All overwhelmed and sensitive. Look at you, fuck, I wasn’t kidding about that football team. I wanna knock you up over and over and— ah.”

When you finally dare lift the hand from your mouth again, having settled a little, you reach down under your belly to rub your swollen clit. It makes you throw your head back, blood pumping in your ears at how every nerve ending has changed since you got pregnant. Your walls start to clench, and Javier nearly collapses at the feel of your cunt pulling him in further, so you slow down your fingers a little until coming to a halt as to not make it be over already. You want him to fuck you to orgasm, and whilst carrying his baby, it is a lot easier to come from getting your g-spot pounded than it used to be.

“Yeah?” You whisper, breathing ragged, “I’ll give you all the babies you want. Just make me come. Please.”

“Say the bad word as you milk me,” he growls, hips having started to falter as indication that he is close himself. He entwines your fingers, “Come on, you can do it, baby.”

Heaven-sent electricity floods your body in the next second as you come with a silent shout, mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded. Relief is not the right word; it seems too weak to describe what you are experiencing as you feel the pressure in your lower belly erupt into flutters of pleasure.

“Fuck,” you pant as you realize that you’ve been holding your breath. The swear comes so naturally when he makes you feel so good, “Fuck, Javi, fuck!”

“Shhh… There you are,” he groans at the first feel of your orgasm. It takes only a few of the spasms of muscles before he empties himself inside of you, the wetness of him inside of you sounding obscene, “Good fucking girl coming on my dick.”

It takes a moment to calm down after that.

Javier pulls out of you with a little noise, but then throws himself down onto the bed right beside you. He runs a hand over his forehead, pushing his sweaty hair back, “Jesus Christ.”

“I want more,” you complain, staring up at the ceiling with still ragged breathing.

“Of course you do,” he chuckles, still out of breath himself.

“Do you think we were too loud?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Definitely,” he winks but then places a hand on your stomach, rubbing gently, “Is kiddo okay?”

“I think you put them to sleep,” you yawn.

“I think I put the both of you to sleep,” he retorts.

“I need to go clean myself first,” you groan at the realization, “C’mon, help your pregnant wife out of bed.”

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