#f: codein

[notjustjavierpena]

Routine

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi everyone! I told you that I had a hubby-treat for you, and it is finally here. I’m very excited to share this one with you as it is something that I’ve gotten a ton of requests for. You love the simplicity of domestic life, so here’s the life of Los Peñas after you’ve begged to see what their routine looks like.  Like always: A huge thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being a patient, sweet and talented beta-reader.

Summary: A day in the life of Javier Peña and his growing family. 

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

Tags: +18, MDNI, hubby!javi’s POV and introspection, pregnant reader, pregnancy symptoms, family dynamics, domestic routines, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, siblings being siblings, married banter, heart-to-hearts, references to Reassess, family conflicts, casanova!javi turned oblivious!javi, javier with a baby needs a warning, handsy and  inappropriate!javi, mention of javier’s mother, baby scan talk, hubby being a DAD!, couch cuddles (with and without kids), sex toys (not explicitly a rose but something along the lines, and while I know we are in the 00s, let’s pretend that sucking toys and cordless toys were a thing for the sake of the story), f masturbation, pregnancy sex, consent king javi, teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light verbal humiliation, nipple play, nipple orgasm, overstim, intense sex, multiple orgasms, m masturbation, wife is an insatiable brat and a screamer, slight dacryphilia, piv sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, slight subdrop, lots of praises and aftercare, baths and hair washing,  

Word count: 17.2k (sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56355349

Routine

Javier’s alarm goes off at 6:30 AM each morning. He breathes deeply in through his nose as he is woken by the beeping sounds of his alarm clock, pulls his arm out from under the covers where it is wrapped around your waist, and moves it to the button on top of the device. He fumbles to find it for a moment, ending up smacking his hand into the plastic with a grunt. 

You stir beside him when he falls back down on his back. He rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his lids, moving the hand down to smooth his thumb and forefinger along his mustache. 

“It’s 6:30,” he then tells you, reaching for your shoulder to shake you gently until you whine a no and cover your face with your arms. He smiles as your half-asleep state makes you no better than his only daughter, “Come on, mi amor (my love). Another day.”

“Thank God, it’s Friday,” you mumble, “One more wake-up routine and I might leave to start a new life as an actually interesting person, maybe a psychic woman.”

“Telling fortunes?” He muses with a goofy smile even if you cannot see him. He reaches to pull your arms away, “C’mon now.”

“Yes, maybe,” you give in and sit up, resting your folded hands on top of your pregnant belly, “The spirits are telling me that you are waking up the queen of this household. I’ll take Seb later.”

You are still on leave after giving birth to Sebastian but after Javier has started his new job, the both of you have discussed the idea of you being a stay-at-home mother for some time after the twins have been born too. You do most of your work on your computer anyway, and if you quit your job, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do some freelance stuff for extra income. Javier isn’t over the moon about you playing the part of the cherry-pie-making housewife but you reason that you only get to experience the kids as kids once which he can’t argue with (especially not when he chose a different job for the exact same reason).

“You sure have a gift, all-seeing wife,” Javier nods in agreement and kisses your lips even as you say you have a terrible case of morning breath. Then, resting on his hands, he bends down to kiss your stomach too, “Anything else Mamá wants?”

“Can you make breakfast?” You blink prettily, “I’ll do school lunches and coffee.”

“Sure,” he leans over you and smirks when your noses bump together, “How do you want your eggs? Except fertilized, obviously.”

“Javi,” you scold but giggle and initiate a kiss anyway. He kisses you longingly because he hasn’t for eight long hours of sleep. When he pulls back, heat has risen to your cheek, “Just scrambled.”

“You got it,” he moves and gets out of the bed. It is 6:36 AM now and he calculates the time he’ll have to wake up Inés as well as make breakfast if he needs to get in the shower before leaving too. He doesn’t have to stress.

“And Javi?” You call from the bed. 

He turns around in the doorway to the master bathroom, “Yes?”

“Good morning,” you beam. 

“Good morning, baby,” he smiles.

He takes a quick moment to wash his face, leaving the door open so you can run back and forth to pee the million times that you need to each morning. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to you moving around as you brush your hair and put on soft sweatpants. He tries to imagine what you’ll be wearing when he sees you later because you always shower after sending him and the children out of the door. He hopes that you will wear your blue sundress now that it's warmer than ever. 

When he emerges from the bathroom to plan what he is going to wear for the day, you are already gone and he can hear the radio playing music in the kitchen. He revises his material for today’s lecture about criminal behavior as he takes a white shirt off its hanger and reaches for a pair of dress pants, but he can barely concentrate when he cannot wait to see you downstairs.

Finishing up his little routine, he walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway upstairs. He knocks once on Lucas’ door before peeking into the room, “Let’s go, muchacho (young man).”

Lucas passes him a moment later, fully dressed and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looks so grown that Javier wants to topple over, “Morning, mijo (my son).” 

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m up,” he smiles. 

Javier raises a brow, “I can see that. Thanks for making my life easier. I’ll go wake up la monita (the little monkey) then.” 

He continues to Inés’ room. She has not woken up yet, deep asleep with the covers half on the floor. She is lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, her mouth agape as she snores gently, her hair an unruly mess, and her pajama top askew on her back. 

He crouches down by her bed and runs a hand over her back, speaking softly as he wakes her up with the intention of not accidentally startling her, “Inés, mi niña (my girl), it’s time to wake up.”

It takes a whole minute for her to escape the land of the sleeping and release the clutch on her pillow. She furrows her brow, yawns animatedly, and rubs her eyes with her tiny fists in the same way he does every day. 

“There she is,” he smiles, “It’s almost seven, we gotta get up for school.” 

“I don’t wanna,” she complains with a pout and earns a gentle hand running over her hair. She buries her face further into the pillow and looks like she’s already about to turn to her weapon consisting of crocodile tears. 

“I don’t want to either but Mom is already packing your lunch. Don’t you want to see Ava and Jacob?” He helps her sit up, trying to distract her from her tantrum. 

“Ava says her mom is sad,” Inés shakes her head but the accidental opportunity to talk about her troubles makes Javier able to undress her without much fuss. He gives her a sympathetic look. Mira, Ava’s mother, is still divorcing her husband Jonathan, and it is the first time that Inés has been confronted with the idea that not all parents stay together. He nods in understanding, “But Ava says that her mom is the one who didn’t want to be with her daddy anymore.”

“Sometimes you can be sad even if it’s a choice you make yourself,” Javier explains as he gets her out of bed, kneeling in front of her on the floor to help her into her underwear and bottoms. He pulls them up over her hips, “Maybe she thought it was nicer to leave so she could not make him sad again.” 

Inés listens to his explanation but just as she is about to nod, she frowns and shakes her head instead, “That’s stupid. Mommy says that you stay and talk about things when you are sad.” 

Javier pauses with the blouse you chose for her yesterday in his hands, trying to find the correct way to explain why adults act the way they do to his daughter. It’s so early in the morning and she had barely been awake two minutes ago. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Well sometimes grown-ups have disagreements or feelings that are hard to understand, and when those feelings become too strong, they might decide that it's best to be apart instead of being sad together."

Inés furrows her brow even more but raises her arms up in the air to let him pull the blouse over her head, “Is Ava sad too?" 

Javier pulls her arms out of the sleeves and brushes her hair out of her concerned and skeptical face, "Ava might be feeling sad right now too but she has her friends, you for example, and her family to cheer her up, just like you have me and Mamá.”

Inés falls into him and hugs him, giggling as he picks her up and purposely turns her the wrong way around in his arms until she tells him off with a squeal. She throws her arms around his neck when she finally sits on his hip and kisses his cheek, "I'm glad I have you, Papá. I love you!" 

Javier vows that he won’t cry from emotion so early in the morning. He is worse than you sometimes when it comes to these things, chest constricting as tears well up in his throat, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, mi amor (my love). Let’s go get breakfast before we do your hair. How do you want it?”

“Pigtails,” she decides loudly as they leave the room. 

Downstairs, Lucas has chosen cereal for himself and is reading the comic he got last month at the dining table. Inés says hello to him from her seat on Javier’s hip, and he waves back at her until she giggles and hides her face against her father’s shoulder. 

Javier carries her to you as you cut carrot and cucumber slices for her lunchbox. You turn to them. 

“Morning, Mamá!” She chirps happily and you give her a kiss. 

“Hi, baby,” you reply and notice the faint traces of tears in the corner of Javier’s eyes. You raise your brows, “Did you give your dad any trouble?” 

“We had a little chat about Mira and Jonathan,” he explains quickly and stuffs a carrot in Inés’ mouth before walking to plop her down on a dining chair. Inés chews and immediately gets enchanted by her older brother, looking at the pictures of Spiderman on the pages in front of them while asking him to explain. 

“Are you okay?” You put a hand on his arm, rubbing affectionately all the way up to the back of his neck. He reaches to put his hand on top of yours and smiles reassuringly.

“Just got a love declaration of the ages,” he explains before letting go. He moves to open the fridge and calculates the amount of eggs he’ll need. 

“Ahh, sentiment,” you say with a knowing smile. Without a word, you get a pan out for him and place it on the stove, working with him in a symbiotic manner that he grows more and more fond of with each passing morning you spend together as a family. 

He cracks the eggs out into a bowl to make sure there are no shells and then starts scrambling them whilst you click the button on the coffee machine. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh coffee and breakfast fills up the room and you open a window to let the sound of chirping birds join the music on the radio. 

“Eat up, we’re leaving in 45 minutes,” he places the plate in front of Inés and kisses her hair. She takes the fork you bring a second after and stabs the eggs with determination. 

She chatters excitedly about the plans for her day between bites of eggs and looks outraged when Lucas occasionally steals a piece from her plate. He makes a peace offering by moving his chair closer to hers so he can hold the comic in front of them both. 

Javier goes to pour coffee into his favorite mug whilst you have tea and you eat the rest of the scrambled eggs directly from the pan together with him. He admires you whilst you rest against the kitchen table, having a conversation with your kids whilst nourishing your twin babies. 

As the comfortable morning routine proceeds, he catches your eyes from across the room and you smile so tenderly each time. Rays of sunlight are coming in from the window, dancing over the fabric of your comfortable clothes and making your already glowing skin glow even brighter as you hold the mug of tea in both hands. He knows how lucky he is to have this life with you after the chaotic years of his youth. Who knew that life could start when one thought it was over?

He recalls the very first time he laid eyes on you and how he knew he wanted to marry you by the end of the night (you still don’t believe this). He remembers thinking that he didn’t deserve a life with you and all the love you brought with you, remembers how you said that the only thing that mattered was whether he wanted it or not. He has never once wavered from this want since you allowed him to kiss you for the first time. 

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t realize that you have started to move around the kitchen to clear the table and stuff the lunchboxes into each respective school bag. He takes a brief moment more to longingly gaze after you. 

You are so graceful in your fourth pregnancy even if you deny it each time he compliments you, your stomach a bump so round and plenty visible already. The both of you are nearly four months into what has been the biggest shock of your lives. All the time, he thinks back to how difficult it was to conceive the first two of his kids and feels a tug in his chest of endless gratitude for being a father. 

He could never describe the flood of pride that had erupted in his heart when he went from being a father of three to suddenly being a father of almost five in a matter of a single second you spent together in an ob-gyn's office on a regular Tuesday morning. He remembers seeing your overwhelmed and tear-stained face when you had thrown yourself back into the examination chair with simultaneous happiness and panic flashing in your eyes. The babble of words was barely comprehensible but they made him kiss your eyelids until you gave him a smile. 

He had called you his very best girl when the doctor had left to give you both a moment of privacy, held your trembling hand, and told you that he would be right there with you every step of the way, which seemed to calm you instantly. He is grateful that he has that effect on you just as you have the very same effect on him. He knows he can never feel what it’s like to bear children but he knows that every fiber of his body tells him that he will never allow you to be scared if he can help it.

These days, he won’t even allow you to be exhausted either which is why he picks up Inés from her seat again and carries her upstairs to the bathroom. When pregnant, you always pack the car with Lucas instead of walking around with your preschooler on your hip. 

“Right,” he hooks a foot around the leg of the stool underneath the sink and drags it out so Inés can stand on it. She grabs the edge of the sink and makes a face in the mirror now that she’s tall enough to admire herself, “Pigtails, wasn’t it?”

Inés nods eagerly when Javier gets out the box of hair ties from underneath the cabinet next to the sink, “I want the Minnie Mouse bows.”

“Excellent choice,” Javier praises as he reaches for her hairbrush too. He combs her hair, starting at the bottom and gradually going upwards just like you have taught him the second that he became a father to a little girl. You had even made a hair boot camp, sitting on the couch and nursing Inés whilst he practiced a few different hairstyles that you would rate on a scale of one to ten. 

He parts Inés’ hair down the middle and starts with the right pigtail, gathering all the hair in his hand with the help of the brush. His daughter grimaces at the slight tug but then her face lights up as she remembers something.

“Daddy! Mommy says I have to do my daily affirmations before school!” She beams at him in the mirror, excited because complimenting herself clearly makes her feel good. Javier cannot believe how fantastic of a mother you are because it would have never even occurred to him that this was the simplest way of teaching his children to be kind to themselves. 

“Alright, let’s hear them, mija (my daughter),” he says and finishes the second pigtail. He takes a step back, holding his daughter’s head in place like you have taught him to make sure the hairstyle is symmetrical. Satisfied, he looks at the digital clock on top of the cabinet. He figures they can spare the two minutes it takes. 

Inés looks herself in the eye when he has let go of her again. She straightens her back like she has seen cartoon characters do, admiring her reflection, and starts reciting with a big smile on her little face. 

“I am smart.”

Yes, she is. Sometimes too smart for her own good. Javier smiles. There’s a pause. 

“I am brave.”

The bravest.

“I have good ideas—“ she halts, turning around to look at him with a frown as if it wouldn’t have the same effect if she had simply sent him the look through the bathroom mirror, “Daddy, you have to say it too.”

She watches him expectantly and he cannot bear to let her down even if he feels slightly embarrassed to talk so highly about himself out loud. He takes a deep breath, a weird feeling in his chest as he meets his own gaze, “I am smart. I am brave. I have good ideas.”

“Good, Daddy!” Inés radiates joy and sports a big toothy grin. She says another one, “I can say no.”

Javier doesn’t catch on to the fact that he has to keep going. Inés turns around to him again with her hands in her sides, “Now you say it, Daddy!”

“Inés…” He chuckles and feels slightly apprehensive. Vulnerability isn’t something he is insecure about but the act of openly saying such nice sentiments to himself hits a nerve somewhere in his chest, imitating a feeling of performance anxiety that he only recognizes from the times he has gone to an exam. 

“Mommy says it makes us feel good inside,” Inés doesn’t let it go, dragging out the minute that he has put aside for this. He knows there’s no way around this and he knows that you would tell him to lead by example. He pretends to cough in an attempt to hide his hesitation, knowing that his confidence and self-love will only fuel his children’s. What more could he want as a father?

“I can say no,” he tells his reflection.

“I can do hard things,” Inés continues. Javier repeats it.

“I am a good friend,” she proudly voices and he hugs her from behind to parrot each word, tightening his arms around her more and more until eventually, he tickles her when she has said her last sentence, “I am loved. There’s no one I would rather be than myself.”

She squeals with delight and slight panic, laughing in his arms in the loud and free manner that only a child can. He gets filled up with warmth and baby fever, trying his hardest to compose himself since they have to leave soon even if he just wants to keep going. 

“Time to brush your teeth and pee before we leave, monita (little monkey),” he tells her and she follows through without any protest. 

When he has told her to help you finish packing her bag, he gets his clothes from the bedroom and gets in for a quick shower. He washes his hair and body, scrubbing his beard with his fingers while revising his material one last time. 

At last, he stands in front of the mirror, putting on his watch, buckling his belt, and fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt. He finishes with his cologne, shaking his sleeve upward on his arm after brushing his teeth to check the time. 7:37 AM.

“Do you have everything?” You ask when everyone is back in the kitchen again.

“I hate leaving you alone all day,” Javier mumbles as you hand over his bag along with Inés’ school bag. Despite Javier’s hands being full, you still place your palms on his chest and kiss him on the mouth.

“Then stop getting me pregnant,” you whisper against his mouth. 

“But it’s just so fun,” he notes and kisses you a few times more when you try to pull away, “They should stop making it so fun. You should stop making me feel so good.”

“Dad,” Lucas interrupts you with a grimace, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, out the door, all of you,” you scratch Javier’s chest briefly before walking out of the room to the front door. You hold it open and watch the three of them scuttling out of the house. Javier wants to count the hours before he gets to see you again.

“And remember, Daddy’s picking you up after school today!” You yell from the door and he turns to walk backwards to the car with a grin on his face. He hears Inés cheer at this fact and secretly, he wants to cheer himself because he never gets to do it. You have an appointment with your ob-gyn doctor later to check if everything is alright with the babies, something they have insisted on since they found out there were two. He’ll have to leave work early but it’ll give him more time with his children in the afternoon. 

He checks each of their seat belts to make sure they’re secure, hesitating for just a second as he gets ready to close the car door, “Hands inside the car, c’mon.”

Inés throws her palms up and he pushes the car door shut with a smile before walking around the front, tapping the hood with his knuckles and waving at you one last time. You smile widely and mouth that you love him. You close the door, and he only starts the car when he sees you in the kitchen window. 

—

The car ride to school is fairly short but it consists of Javier listening to a lot of happy chatter about nothing from Inés in the way only a four-year-old can do. In the ten minutes it takes, he manages to answer questions about why the sky is blue, why there’s no such thing as dragons in Texas, if there are twin ladybugs just like there are twins in your tummy, and if she can try driving the car later. 

Lucas only joins in when she asks whether they can get a dog. He grabs at the back of his father’s seat and lifts himself as far forward as the seat belt will allow only to get told to sit back down. 

“A dog is a big responsibility, you know,” Javier swings the car into a parking spot. He looks back over the seat after turning off the engine, “Mommy and I have you and Seb to take care of, and the twins eventually too.”

“Nunca vamos a tener un perro (we’re never gonna get a dog),” Lucas grumbles and throws himself back into the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the window. 

“Never?” Inés’ eyes widen.

“Oye, eso no es lo que dije (hey, that’s not what I said),” Javier replies, pocketing the car keys, “I’m just saying that we’ll have our hands full soon.”

“That’s not my fault and I didn’t even want more siblings,” Lucas says under his breath and Inés squirms in her seat at the tension in the tiny space. 

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want you saying things like that,” Javier says firmly. 

Lucas huffs. For once, Inés is quiet. 

“Look at me,” Javier tells him and his son reluctantly finds his gaze again, “We don’t talk about each other like that and we especially don’t make each other feel unwanted.”

There’s a painful mixture of shame, vulnerability, and frustration on the eight-year-old’s face, “I know, Dad, I’m sorry… it’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m the one who has to always give up what I want.”

Javier knows the irony of his previous statement as soon as he hears those words. Accompanied by the look he receives from his son, it’s enough to make him swallow thickly, “I’m sorry, mijo (my son). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

There’s a pause. Lucas starts to open the door, “It’s okay. I know that you’re right and a dog won’t be happy if we don’t have time for it. That’s what Mom says anyway.”

He gets out and Inés finally pipes up when they’re alone. She frowns and looks out the window to watch Lucas stand with his hands clutching the straps of his bag, “Can’t we just have a little dog?”

“I have to talk to Mom about it,” he sighs, “Let’s get through this day first.”

The two of them finally get out of the car to join Lucas. Javier locks the car. He starts to lean down over his son, wants to press an affectionate kiss to his hair that’s so much like his own it hurts, but Lucas shakes him off. 

“Dad,” the eight-year-old bites at him, his tone full of embarrassment. He suppresses a scowl even if it’s only a half-hearted one and instead looks around to see if anyone saw him. 

Javier straightens again, trying to pretend the slight rejection didn’t sting too much. Lucas is turning nine soon but he hadn’t guessed that he’d be so much of a preteen already. He has no clue if he is doing okay with him but he vows to get a smile out of him before they part for the day. 

“I’ll talk to Mom about it,” Javier eventually promises. It’s not untrue.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Lucas replies with a fake smile and looks away. 

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he drops Inés’ bag and thinks fuck it. He crouches down to hold both his arms, rubbing them soothingly, and feels relief at not being rejected again, “I know you really want a dog but you gotta cut your Mom and me some slack here, okay? We’ve never had three kiddos at the same time. Just like you’ve never had two siblings before.”

“Four,” his son mutters. 

“It’ll be okay,” he tells him with a smile. He is steadfast as he continues, “And I mean it, I will talk to Mom but her verdict is final. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Okay,” Lucas says with uncertainty.

“Okaaay,” he parrots to him in a silly voice with a gentle squeeze. 

“Okay,” Lucas says with a little laugh. 

“Okay,” Inés chimes in with excitement. 

Lucas laughs genuinely this time and Javier feels his heart leap. He picks up the bag from the ground and stands once more, only to bend down and kiss his son’s hair, “School waits. Inés and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad, bye, Inés,” he nods, “I love you.”

“I love you too!!!” Inés yells loudly and Javier takes her hand with the one not carrying her bag. 

“Love you, mijo (my son).”

—

The next stop is Inés’ classroom. She runs a few meters in front of him the whole way there but because of her little legs, he never gets too far behind her. He feels so relieved that she’s always this excited for school but with the way that you tell him that she’s so much like him, he also knows that it’s just a matter of time before she grows tired of school during her teen years. Teen years. He shouldn’t think about that already since the thought of her growing is unbearable. 

“Inés, slow down,” he says despite not needing to, wanting a bit of control, “I don’t want you falling and scraping your knees, mi amor (my love).”

When she doesn’t immediately follow orders, he holds out his hand for her to take, “Inés.”

She turns her head toward him as she runs down the hall, so close to her goal which is her classroom, and tumbles into a woman coming out of the room. Javier puts a hand on his head in shock, dropping his daughter’s bag and walking straight to them whilst apologizing profusely. 

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a sweet smile in his direction and then in Inés’ direction. She’s tall and blonde, wearing a coat in this boiling weather which must mean she’s not used to Texas, “We’re both alright, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” Inés says genuinely. 

“Well, aren’t you well-behaved?” She is grinning now. 

“Daddy, can I go inside and play with Ava?” Inés looks longingly towards the door. 

He goes to pick up her bag, “Sí (yes), but take your backpack and I’ll talk to the nice lady.”

Inés does as she is told, standing perfectly still whilst he helps the bag onto her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, “Ves a jugar (Go and play). I’ll pick you up later today.”

“They’re great at that age,” the woman says with a dreamy smile after Inés bounds into the classroom, “I dropped mine off a moment ago.”

“They in the same class?” He asks. 

“As of last week. Oh, and it’s Emily, actually, not ‘nice lady’,” the stranger reveals, holding out her hand for a shake, “And you’re Javier, right?”

“That’s right,” he shakes her hand. Great, even she knows who he is and he prepares himself for the usual speech about him being known all over Laredo, doing everything in his power to not make his mouth a straight line. 

However, she nods towards the door and surprises him by saying nothing of the sort. Instead, she makes it about herself which shouldn’t be nice but it is, “Inés’ father? My daughter has mentioned her a few times. We’re new here, moved from Upstate New York. Work. You know.”

“That explains the coat,” he says with a little smirk. 

She reacts by putting her hand on her cheek and then her forehead, feeling a blush that’s not there. He is too oblivious to know that she’s fishing for a compliment on her appearance, “That obvious, huh? I probably look like a red crab. I’m boiling.”

“You look fine,” he reassures, “But hit up the AC in your car or at least take that thing off. Survival mode, you know, do it for the kids.”

Emily giggles. He smiles. 

“We should arrange a playdate sometime. My daughter could use some friends. I think we both could. We could get some coffee if you know a place,” she suggests in an attempt at a flirtation but even if it’s so glaringly obvious, he just doesn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, his mind circles back to you in the kitchen he built for you, “I’m busy most days but I’m sure my wife would be thrilled to set something up. Inés can’t just be playing with our friends’ daughter all the time.”

“Oh,” there’s a slight change in Emily’s demeanor after that. Her smile falters ever so slightly, and there's a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes but he can't quite pinpoint the cause of her sudden change in mood. He brushes it off, "Well, I should probably let you get back to your day. I suppose your name and number are on the class’ contact list?” 

He tries to keep up the upbeat tone of their conversation but she just smiles awkwardly, "Yes. Of course, Javier. I'll look forward to it."

As he turns to leave, he catches a glimpse of Emily's expression, and he can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. He furrows his brow, wondering all the way to the car what he did wrong and doesn’t know that if you had been there, you would have been laughing your ass off the second Emily had left.

He brushes it off the second the radio comes on in the car and heads to work afterward. The day feels easy; he gets to come home, gets to watch his kids grow up in front of his eyes and in the evening he will make love to his beautiful wife. Such a fact makes days at work pass like seconds, and he smiles all the way from his car when the bell rings for his first lesson.

—

Around two in the afternoon on the same day, Javier enters his house with his kids following right behind him. He comes home to you feeding Sebastian mashed avocado in his high chair, and in the meantime cutely imitating his babbling about nothing right back at the little green monster that used to be his son. He walks up to you after putting his bag down on a dining chair. 

“Hey,” you say with avocado on your forehead. 

Javier reaches up to rub it off, sucking it off his finger before pecking your lips, “Hola, mi amor (hello, my love). How’s your day been? Scan go okay?”

He kisses Sebastian’s head too before turning his attention to you. You’re scraping the last bits of avocado onto the baby spoon before feeding it to your son.

“I’ll tell you about the scan later. I need to talk to you about it… but Seb and I have had such a good day, ain’t that right, baby?” You tickle Sebastian’s cheeks, not caring about being covered in green too. Sebastian giggles and clenches his fist around some of the avocado he has had in his hand for a while. Javier decides not to press any further since you don’t look worried, especially not as you watch Sebastian slam his fist into the plate in front of him afterward, “We tried sweet potatoes today, didn’t we? Y probamos fresas del mercado, pasta con un poco de queso (And we tried strawberries from the market, pasta with a bit of cheese)."

Javier grins at your excitement, watching you reach for a piece of paper towel to wipe off all the excess food from your child now that he has been allowed to eat more independently with just a bit of help, "Mi hijo es un foodie, ¿eh? (my son is a foodie, huh?)"

Lucas pops his head in through the kitchen door with Inés loyally following right behind, “Mom, did you say strawberries?”

You walk to the kitchen table and grab the cardboard basket of strawberries, holding it out for your eldest son. You shake it a little, “They’re really good.”

He takes one and hands it to Inés before he grabs one for himself afterward. He smiles contentedly after biting into it, happily chewing the sweet berry and looking down at his sister to see her reaction as well, “Good?”

You offer Javier a strawberry too. He eats a whole one, doesn’t even bother to pick off the green part, and earns a little crinkle of your nose. He winks at your reaction and the expression of disapproval turns into a smile that sets his heart into overdrive. 

Inés lights up after finishing the berry, “Can I have one more?”

“Consider it your afternoon snack,” you say. You pull out a chair around the dining table, placing the basket of strawberries on the table, “Do you want a PB&J sandwich too?” 

“Yes!” She runs across the room to crawl onto the seat, waiting patiently with her hands flat on the table until she cannot resist nearly smothering herself with another strawberry. 

“Do you want one too, Luke?” You ask. 

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mom,” he says politely and goes to sit down too. He taps a rhythm on the table that Inés fails at replicating. From his high chair, Sebastian joins in by slamming his palms into the table and the luckily empty baby platter. 

“Javi, can you take Seb for his nap?” You ask while reaching for the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. You cannot find it, frowning at the realization that you must have placed it somewhere else. Javier hears you mutter to yourself about your damn pregnancy brain. 

He walks up behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he leans over you. You freeze but then relax into his touch. He reaches into the far back of the cupboard, feeling for the jar, and fetches it, “You told me to hide it, baby. You eat too much of it with just the lid off and a spoon.”

“I should stop denying the babies it if that’s what they want,” you giggle to hide your embarrassment at having forgotten and pat your pregnant belly. You look so pretty in your dress, the one he had hoped that you would wear; blue as the sky above with tiny yellow bees flying around on it. 

He hands you the jar of peanut butter and cannot help but admire the gentle curve of your stomach, that certain glow making you radiant in the mundane setting of his kitchen. He can never help ogling you when you care for his children and it’s even worse when you carry them as well. 

“You look so gorgeous right now, mi vida (my life),” he rubs the small of your back and slides his palm around you to your belly, breathing against your ear as he talks. You turn your head just a little to smile playfully at him and thank him in a soft whisper. 

Javier looks back to see his kids chatting with each other, so he presses into you a little more.

“I got a bed with your name on it later,” he continues quietly as he still stands right behind you, letting his hand drop to your hip. You shove a little at him but it’s nowhere near enough to actually mean that you want him to stop. He lets his warm breath ghost over the soft shell of your ear until you let out a sigh that you only reserve for him. He continues until he can look at your neck and see your pulse throbbing under your skin, “I could just eat you up. Take you to our bedroom, lock the door… throw you on the bed, and take your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Pórtate bien (Behave),” you scold him with a bit more mischief than what he assumes is intended, “I have sandwiches to make and we’ll be sorry later if Seb misses his nap.”

He adds a finishing touch to his attempt at a flirtation by shielding you from his kids’ line of sight. The broad hand that has been resting on your hip slips further down. and Javier allows himself a grope to your backside. He jiggles the fleshiest part of it and you finally have enough, turning around quickly with a look of mock outrage. 

“Thin ice, baby, thin ice,” you chide but he simply pecks you on the lips and turns towards his children again. 

“Vamos, pequeño (let’s go, little one),” he says to Sebastian as he approaches him, lifting him out of his high chair and placing him on his hip. He feels your disapproving eyes as he walks out of the kitchen but just smirks to himself, heading for the stairs to go to the nursery.

In the room, he places Sebastian on the changing table and checks his diaper. He also removes as much clothing as possible, making sure he won’t overheat in the bassinet. His son grins up at him, not seeming tired at first but then starts blinking slowly as the nap ritual proceeds. 

“Oh, you are tired, mijo (my son),” he whispers softly as he cradles him towards his chest afterward. He feels Sebastian resting his chubby cheek against his shoulder, breathing slowly as he starts falling asleep from being bounced in his father’s arms.

Javier hums, savoring the moment that he knows is fleeting with his son. He is reminded of needing to ask you about the doctor’s appointment again, excitement in his body as he thinks about two sets of tiny feet running across his living room floor at the same time. As a child, he never really understood why he couldn’t get a sibling but his understanding of what was happening to his mother only came a little later until he stopped asking altogether. He loves that his house is so full now. 

When Sebastian is fully asleep, he lays him down on his back on the tiny mattress that belonged to Inés before. He runs his palm over the fine hairs on his head for a few moments, just staring down at his baby to commit it to memory. He tucks the blanket around him, turns on the baby monitor, grabs the other, and flicks off the lights. 

When he returns to the kitchen ten minutes later, he finds you sitting by the dining table with a sandwich of your own. Lucas holds a pencil in his hand, your grocery list lying in front of him and his empty plate has been pushed away. 

“I hate broccoli,” Inés says from her own seat, nose scrunched up. The jelly part of her sandwich seems more around her mouth than in her belly. She tries to look over at what her older brother is writing but he is hesitant in his spelling of the word. 

“I hate it because I can’t spell it,” Lucas grumbles with concentration on his face, “B-R-O…”

“C-C-O-L-I,” Javier finishes, announcing his presence to them. You look up at him as he stops between Lucas’ and your chair, setting down the baby monitor on the table. 

“Hey, he’s supposed to learn how to spell it by himself,” you tut gently but without any anger or annoyance. Javier kisses your jelly-tasting lips. You tap the list, “Lettuce.”

Lucas groans in complaint, “Mooom, all these words are hard.”

Inés giggles from her seat, “Lucas is bad at spelling!”

Lucas furrows his brow, looking to you for saving, “No, I’m not!”

You send your daughter a look, knowing you have the right thing to say to bring some justice into the world, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Inés Peña. You have to practice your counting skills with Daddy.”

Javier snorts at the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. She comically throws herself back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. He kisses her hair, “No angry faces, Princesa (princess). You’ll have plenty of time to play afterward.”

“Maybe I am bad at spelling,” Lucas says in defeat, heaving a big sigh. 

“You’re doing great, sweetie. It’s all about practice,” you reassure and reach out to rub the back of his neck affectionately, “And I really appreciate you helping me with the grocery list. It’s a big job.”

“How about an easier word?” Javier suggests, silently eyeing your sandwich as he speaks, “Like tomatoes.”

Lucas smiles down at the paper, brightening at the praise you offer as consolation for his struggles. He writes down the newly suggested word with newfound confidence, “T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S.”

“Perfect,” you continue your praise. 

Finally, Javier pulls out a chair to sit down with his family. He chooses the seat next to you but opposite Inés to keep her in line if she decides to have a tantrum. However, she just watches her brother scribble down word after word. 

“What about ice cream?” She asks suddenly with her best pleading expression. She is more hesitant than usual, knowing full well that she overstepped the rules a moment ago. 

“If Lucas can spell it,” you challenge with a sweet smile, raising a brow at your son. 

Inés grabs at the edge of the dining table, moving to stand on her knees instead of sitting. She leans over the table to get a closer look, “You can do it, Lucas!”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, nearly breaking the tip of the pencil in his eagerness, especially now that his sister is cheering for him, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M.”

Both of them look to you expectantly, awaiting your verdict that’ll make or break the oncoming weekend. You nod, “That’s indeed how you spell ice cream.”

The both of them cheer. You laugh along with them, and Javier feels his knees go weak even as he sits down. He leans back in his seat with his shoulders completely relaxed, briefly recalling a time when his body being this calm was only a possibility when alcohol was in his bloodstream. 

“What’s next on the list, muchacho (young man)?” He asks as the laughter dies down once again, casually reaching out for half of your sandwich. He earns a look of mock outrage from you, your hand reaching out to swat his arm. 

“Get your own, Peña,” you scold playfully. He pulls away quickly and bites down into the corner. You roll your eyes, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says around a mouthful of food. 

“Mom, what’s ‘insatiable’ mean?” Inés asks curiously. 

You look at him with a smirk as you reply, “It means Daddy always wants more.” 

“More what? More food?” Inés furrows her brow in confusion. 

“Something like that,” Javier says with his heart beating loudly in his chest at the mere thought of you. He leans closer to you, lowering his voice just enough, “And more of Mommy, too.”

“And I think that’s it for snack time!” You announce quickly after, heat in your cheeks as you push yourself to stand. Javier is pleased with himself as you walk around in a flustered state, “Lucas, do you have any homework?”

“I finished math homework in school,” he announces proudly, “Is the grocery list finished?” 

“Can you add chicken too? Then I think we’re done,” you walk back to the table to gather the plates, not letting Javier put down his sandwich again. He feels triumphant at having caused you to feel like this, a sucker for watching your warm face. 

“C-H-I-K—“ Lucas spells out loud. 

“C-K,” you correct as you put the dirty plates into the dishwasher. 

“Oh,” he turns the pencil around and erases his mistake, “C-H-I-C-K-E-N.”

“There you go, baby, good job,” you praise.

Lucas beams.

—

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Lucas goes to his room to play on his Game Boy, its faint beeps echoing through the house from the open door, Inés, after getting her face thoroughly wiped down, falls asleep on the couch after refusing an afternoon nap, and you and Javier begin the usual ritual of preparing for dinner while Sebastian sleeps undisturbed in his bed. 

“You wanted to talk to me about the scan today?” Javier starts a conversation as he chops vegetables alongside you, your hip occasionally bumping into his as you mix a dressing. 

“Yeah, and before you start to worry; yes, the babies are fine,” you reply and absentmindedly run your palm across your belly. 

“But?” Javier puts the knife down to look at you. 

“But nothing. I just wanted to tell you that they know what we’re having and they want us to discuss if we wanna know,” you smile excitedly. You mirror him by putting down the spoon and stepping closer to let him embrace you. 

“They can tell already?” He asks as he places his hands on your hips, rubbing up and down soothingly. He pecks your lips, heart feeling too big for his chest. 

You nod and lean into another kiss, “And they said everything looks great too. Nothing to worry about, and the due date is so far down the road that we can’t wonder about the delivery yet.” 

“Alright, yes. Okay,” he nods in return, an overwhelmed smile on his lips. He releases a small sigh, “But do we want to know? We’ve tried both but I think it’s up to you.” 

“I mean,” you think out loud while Javier takes the opportunity to rub your stomach, “I like surprises but with the stress the delivery will probably bring, it might be nice to know. Just to appreciate it more than when I’m a mess. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide now. We have five or so months, have a think,” he reassures you and presses a soft kiss to your neck. He can feel and hear you draw in a deep breath. 

You are interrupted by Sebastian’s soft noises through the baby monitor, tiny sounds of complaint indicating that he is just about to cry. Javier releases you from his grasp, “You get him and I’ll finish up here. Dinner in twenty, don’t you think?”

“Sure, baby,” you say with a final peck to his lips. You leave the kitchen, ascending the stairs with a little noise, and when Javier glances out into the entry hall, he sees you walk upstairs with a hand on the small of your back. Sebastian has started to cry but you reassure him all the way through the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

Javier finishes up dinner. He faintly hears you tell Lucas to go set the table, and when your son starts taking plates out of the drawer, Inés enters the kitchen while rubbing her eyes, awakened by the noise. 

“Hola, mi niña cansada (hello, my tired girl),” Javier says as she leans into his side. He turns the pan on the hob so that the handle doesn’t stick out from over the edge, then runs his hand over his daughter’s hair. 

“No estoy cansada, papá (I’m not tired, Daddy),” she protests while fighting a yawn. 

“¿Entonces tienes hambre (Are you hungry then)?” He asks with a hidden, amused smile. 

“Sí (yes),” she wraps her arms around his waist. 

"Si tienes hambre, ayuda a tu hermano a poner la mesa (If you’re hungry, help your brother with setting the table),” he runs his hand over her back, caressing her gently while stirring the chicken and vegetables. 

“Okay, papá,” she says, her stomach probably growling since she’s not protesting hard labor. 

Lucas has finished carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery to the dining table. He pulls out a chair for Inés to stand on, directing her thoroughly on where everything goes until you enter the kitchen again with Sebastian on your hip. 

“It looks so good!” You praise with a big grin, genuinely proud to see both of your eldest kids cooperating so well, “And the cutlery on the right sides!” 

Javier turns back to have a look, holding a hand up to give them both a high five. You send him a smile only reserved for him, walking to put Sebastian into his high chair afterward. You go to the living room to find a few toys he can play with until dinner is ready. 

“Can I watch Nanalan after dinner?” Inés asks during dinner, mouth full of food. 

“If you practice your counting first,” you compromise. 

Without hesitation, Inés starts saying numbers out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Inés,” you say, a crease on your forehead.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peña,” Javier teases, “But I think you walked right into that one.”

“Shush, you,” you tut and, out of spite, listen closely after any errors in your daughter’s count. 

After dinner, you take on the job of clearing the table and filling up the dishwasher. Lucas gets a free pass from helping so he can go pop the Nanalan VHS tape into the TV, setting it up for you all to enjoy in just a moment. 

Sebastian plays with a few toy cars as he sits in his high chair. He coos softly, making noises to match the tiny red vehicle. 

Inés, still full of energy, practices counting backward with Javier while you wash up the pan in the sink. He can see you listening to them even with your back turned, knows that you are smiling without looking at your face. 

“C’mon, baby. What comes after six?” He asks, having pulled her chair out to stand in front of her. 

“Seven!” She answers confidently and it is technically not wrong.

He smiles with amusement, “We’re counting backward. Down from ten. Try again. Teeeen…”

“Ten… nine… eight…” she says loudly. 

Javier waits patiently. He holds up the number of fingers equal to the numbers she is saying. She furrows her brows in concentration and continues, “Seven… six… five…”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he encourages. 

Inés grips the seat of her chair in excitement, “Three!”

“Are you sure?” He stops her briefly. 

She looks up at him, hesitating for a moment and seeking reassurance, “Four.”

He nods, “You got this.”

She smiles brightly, “Three! Two! One!”

“Bien hecho, Princesa (well done, princess)!” He praises loudly and leans down over her to kiss the top of her head repeatedly, “Eres mi chica lista (you’re my clever girl).”

She stretches up her arms to which he responds by lifting her up from the chair with a groan. She is getting so big, he thinks as he places her on his hip, or maybe he is just getting old. He gets an idea, even if it’ll hurt the muscles in his back, “You know, baby, counting backward is very important. That’s what they do when they launch rockets into space. Try again, see what happens.”

Inés’ eyes light up as she starts counting again. She rushes through it, seeming to do well when something unknown comes afterward. When she gets to one, Javier lifts her high into the air and spins in the kitchen. 

“Liftoff!” He announces, moving around in figure eights to imitate her flying and she squeals with laughter. The sound is one of those that bubble up in her chest, completely unrestrained and pure in its entirety, and Javier’s heart goes into overdrive when he knows that he is the one causing it. There’s nothing that can hurt him in these moments, nothing that can bring him down from the pride he takes in making his kids feel safe and happy. 

“Oh no!” He continues his part, “Inés Peña, well-renowned astronaut, is attacked by aliens from el planeta rojo (the red planet)!”

“¡Papá, no (Daddy, no)!” She giggles and wiggles in his arms as he buries his nose in her cheek, “¡No permitas que me atrapen los alienígenas (Don’t let the aliens catch me)!” 

“Too late!” He tells her before pretending to sink his teeth into her round cheek. He growls like only an alien attacker would and his daughter shrieks with laughter. 

He stops to let her breathe, her little form shaking as she tries to regain her composure. She throws her arms around his neck, looking over at you in secret and lowering her voice to a whisper that’s way too loud. 

“Do it to Mommy!” She demands. 

You perk up at hearing your nickname and turn around with your hands covered in dish soap and water. You watch, like a deer in the headlights, as Javier places Inés down on her feet. He smirks like a devil and you step backwards but only bump into the kitchen counter. Your wet arms come up to screen your face as he approaches you, looking devilish with his arms out in front of him. He makes grabby hands in the air. 

“You are not doing that to me!” You squeak. He leans into you, and the look behind your arms tells him that you know it is a fight that you have already lost. Still, you try to sidestep him but he just cages you with a quick sweep of his arms. 

“I got you now. No hay manera de escapar, mi amor (there is no escaping, my love),” he moves your arms away without caring about getting wet himself and pulls you into a tight embrace. He bites into your cheek a mere moment later, growling like a dog whilst Inés laughs so loudly that your look says that you might let him give you five more children if he wants. The nibbles turn into several silly kisses, eventually turning into a long, deep kiss too. God, he is going to make love to you tonight.

Behind the two of you, Inés makes a noise of disgust, “Ew! Mushy Daddy!” 

Javier pulls away from you and wipes his hands in his shirt. He ruffles Inés’ hair, “Well, you better run to your brother if you don’t want to see Mommy get another big kiss from Daddy.”

Inés dashes off towards the living room with uncontrollable giggles. Once she’s out of sight, Javier turns to see you drying your hands in a kitchen towel. He seeks you out and you meet his embrace by throwing your arms around his neck. 

“Do you think I missed my calling as an alien invader?” He asks with his lips resting against your ear as you hug.

He can feel you shaking your head, “No, husband, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Mhm, wife,” he pulls back to kiss you again, and again and again and again. 

“They’re waiting in the living room,” you stop him, a hand on his chest to reluctantly push him away, “I’ll take Seb.” 

The five of you watch a few episodes together in a pile on the couch. Sebastian sits in your lap while Inés cuddles up into Javier’s side. Lucas mutes his video game but chooses it over the children’s show, repeatedly pressing buttons and trying not to make too loud noises when he wins or loses. 

It ends with the usual bedtime routines an hour later. Teeth are brushed, all three children have no complaints during bathtime, bedtime stories are told and forehead kisses are given even if Inés is already out cold. Javier loves this the most, at least when it goes smoothly.

Eventually, the evening leaves your pile on the couch to only consist of the two of you. 

“We put Inés to bed thirty minutes ago and we’re still watching Nanalan,” you note from your side of the couch, looking at Javier out of the corner of your eye and snickering before you reach the end of your sentence. 

Javier tears his eyes from the screen, his body slumped into the corner of the couch and with the blanket draped over his body. He hides a smile, knowing he has the upper hand in this situation, “Well, get the remote then.”

You have your legs pulled up with them crossed underneath you. You grimace and pat your stomach, “Never gonna happen with this belly.”

He cracks a smile, tone serious in a joking manner which he knows always gets you, “Well then you sit there and keep quiet. I’m missing my show. I haven’t seen if Mona learns a lesson yet.” 

With that, he fixes his gaze on the TV again. You throw your head back to laugh at his silliness and accidentally snort. You squirm and he knows you’re trying your best not to pee a little from the giggling. You cover your mouth but Javier’s head still whips around to stare at you again, looking like he should be a cartoon character with hearts in their eyes.

He starts moving, crawls further toward you, and drags the blanket with him to cover both of your bodies. You shove at him, “Get the remote, Peña.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He scoffs, cuddling up next to you, halfway lying down and crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not switching channels here. I like Nana. She’s wise.”

“She your favorite?” You smirk down at him, teasing him still. 

“No, you’re my favorite, mi amor (my love),” he wiggles his brows, staring up at you with every intention of making you laugh, “Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Smooth,” you smile with a shake of your head. You purse your lips and he groans dramatically when he moves up to kiss you, pecking your mouth gently. You reach to ruffle his hair until it is untidy.

“You know, baby, my hair takes all night to style,” he sighs and starts to flatten the stray locks again, “You could be a little more considerate.”

“I’m pregnant,” you argue, “You try being considerate.”

“You’ve been pregnant for nearly two years straight,” his eyes wander back to Nana and Mona.

“And whose fault is that?” You start to watch too. 

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

The both of you watch Nanalan for a while. With a foot, Javier pulls the coffee table closer for you so you can stretch your legs and rest your feet on it. You seem less invested in whether Mona will learn how to take care of the baby bird in Nana’s garden than he is but it doesn’t matter because during the episode, your positions shift and suddenly you are resting against him instead. He feels like a teenager each time this happens, heart racing at having a pretty girl in close proximity, but unlike 16-year-old Javier Peña, he has already gotten the girl and is therefore without clammy hands.

He drapes his arm around your back until his hand rests on your waist, pulling your pregnant body against himself until you automatically lean your head on his shoulder. In the end, you doze off, having gotten into a habit of falling asleep in front of the television. 

When the credits roll over the screen, he nudges you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine so adorably and scoot further into his side, “I don’t want to go all the way upstairs.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll do it again,” he says, intending to confuse you. 

You pull back to look at him with furrowed brows, “Do what?”

Javier pokes the tip of his nose into your cheek and then imitates a series of bites to your face just like earlier. He makes the noise of a dinosaur this time, growling close to your ear and making you squeal from the tickling sensation it gives. 

“No!” You shriek, “I’ll get up! I swear!”

“Are you sure?” Javier doesn’t stop, only nuzzles further into you and bites the flesh of your cheek for real this time. His whole body fills up with butterflies as you laugh at his torment. 

When eventually showing you mercy, he throws the blanket to the side and pushes himself to stand up. You put your feet on the floor and take his hands when he holds them out for you. He hauls you to your feet. 

After a quick shared shower, you moisturize your belly in the bedroom and pick out your sleepwear whilst he dresses in a new pair of briefs. It is a quiet and relaxing ritual where none of you speak a word, moving around each other in synchronous harmony. 

It’s when you go to pee and change that he notices the little device on the nightstand, plugged in to charge, and he furrows his brow in confusion. The door is closed to the bathroom and he can hear the sound of your toothbrushing, so you won’t be barging in on him as he satisfies his curiosity. 

With quick fingers, he pulls the cord out of the bottom and holds it closer to his face to examine the little pink thing. He hasn’t seen one of these before; staring down into the hole at the top and trying to make sense of what will happen when he presses the button. 

The little thing whirs to life when he does and he can see the way the tip pulses erratically, sparking his interest and triggering the instinct to hold it against the palm of his hand. His brows nearly rise into his hair as he feels the way the vibrator suckles on his skin, so he taps his hand a few times to feel it let go and attach again. It’s when he realizes what it’s meant to do for you that he feels his cock move in his briefs. It happens again when he knows it means that you have used it today whilst being home alone. 

He presses the button on the side again and feels the vibrations become more intense and he nearly throws the cute thing across the room when he tries to turn it off by pressing the button again and the buzzing only gets louder and louder and more and more intense. 

“You two need a moment alone?” You ask from the doorway to the bathroom, smirking as he sheepishly finds your gaze. You have changed into a pair of way too tiny sleep shorts and one of his gray t-shirts, and it looks so naturally stunning on you that he nearly drops the toy. Why is he hard? Christ, he is possibly aching. He wants to throw you on the bed and pull those tiny shorts off and—

“Did you two already have a moment alone?” He asks when he has regained his composure. 

“Maybe, and maybe it was pretty great,” you tease and make your way to him. When you stand in front of him on your side of the bed, your eyes wander downward until you stare at the bulge on the front of his briefs. Your tone is triumphant and sing-songy, “You’re hard.”

“You’re wearing my t-shirt,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His gaze drops to the way the soft cotton fabric drapes over your tits, leaving just enough up to the imagination but clearly showing off the way your nipples have hardened at the conversation. He twirls the little sucking toy in his hands, wants to make you come with it attached to your nipple until he can see heat rising in your cheeks and then he’ll let the device do its job between your legs. 

“Horndog,” you roll your eyes affectionately, “I can’t even wear clothes? I thought it would be not wearing any clothes that would get you.”

“Can I try this on you?” He decides to be straightforward and just asks while holding the vibrator up between the two of you, “You can guide me.”

“Now?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes, now,” he huffs out a dark, little laugh and takes a step further toward you as if he is a predator caging his pretty prey. You don’t seem affected by it but your nipples might soon poke holes in your shirt, “I mean, I’m a little curious here, so if you’re up for it. I was gonna try to get laid anyway…”

“Charming,” you let yourself fall down into bed, sitting on the edge. Javier places the toy on the nightstand to grab underneath your knees, lifting your legs to help you scoot back onto the mattress. 

“Is that a yes?” He awaits your green light. 

“Yes. Don’t go overboard with it though. It’s pretty intense,” you reply and hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You start to shimmy out of them and he helps you completely out of them when they sit around your knees. Then he bends your legs and spreads them apart. 

“Tell me what to do,” he goes to grab the toy again, kneels between your legs, and awaits orders. He clicks the button and the little thing comes alive once again. You’re just about to reply when he cannot help but ask, “Does it work on your tits?”

“I thought you wanted me to guide you,” you retort but in response to his question, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt and start to pull it up over your pregnant body. He stops you when it sits just above your tits, coming closer to you by spreading his thighs until you drape your own thighs over them. 

“Shut it… and listen to this. It’s pretty loud,” he notes as he feels the little sucker on his palm again, tapping the heel of his hand with it. 

“It’s quieter when it’s in place,” you say with heat in your cheeks, anticipation evident on your face, “So don’t worry about switching up the intensity when I get close.” 

“Ah… but no going overboard,” he nods, grinning down at you. Sure. He drags out the testing on his palm to get you worked up even more, knowing it will only increase the pulse in your whole body until you might cuss him out when he actually goes to work on you. He loves your body when it is pregnant and sensitive, and while he would never let anyone in on what the two of you do behind closed doors, there’s a part of him that wants to brag to Steve about how you cream yourself from getting your breasts played with whenever you have a baby - this time babies - in your belly or your body is raging with postpartum hormones. Oh, he thinks to himself, what a privilege it is to get to see you like he will in just a moment. 

“Javi,” you complain beneath him. 

“Yeah yeah, chica impaciente (impatient girl),” he tuts and finally places the toy against the skin of your cleavage. You suck in a breath, reacting already more intensely than he thought you would. He supposes that it’s due to knowing how it’s going to feel, and he elicits a little moan from you as he drags the head of the toy across your chest. 

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble, squeezing your thighs around his waist. When he looks down between your legs, he can see the way it makes your cunt clench too. You’re trying to stimulate yourself untouched. 

“Christ, you’re a dirty little girl for this thing. What magic does it do for you?” He raises his brows and inches the toy closer to your right breast. He dances around the swell and you bite your lower lip.

“You don’t understand,” you say breathlessly.

“Humor me,” he demands. 

“It feels… like when your teeth nip at my skin,” you explain with eyes that are already glazed over with desire, “It feels like when your mouth is just about to get where I wa— Fuck.”

Javier has covered your right nipple with the toy and between your legs, a damp spot has marked the white sheets. He moves the head of the little sucker around your gorgeous, perky nipple and your moan only increases in volume. 

“Shh, los niños están dormidos (the children are asleep),” he whispers above you, removing the toy to lean down over you and get closer to your face, “Keep your little mouth shut or I’ll need to stop.”

You look desperately at him, shake your head, and whimper at the threat. He pecks your lips with a pleased smirk before you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It gets even harder for you when he descends on you, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your played-with nipple in an obscene manner. 

“Waterproof, I’m guessing?” He awaits your answer. 

“Mhm,” you nod and then writhe as he covers the peak of your breast again. You let your hand push down into the mattress, making a noise in the back of your throat as he presses the button to turn up the intensity. You fight between throwing your head back and keeping your eyes fixed on what he is doing to you. 

“Eyes on me,” he decides for you. 

“Baby,” you whine and follow through, thighs tightening around his waist as you stare at him. You start thrusting against nothing, lifting your pelvis to squeeze your pussy in time with the still somewhat slow pulses to your chest. 

Javier straightens fully again and your gaze follows obediently. He lifts his left hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers past his lips to wet them with his spit, and then he finds your other nipple. He rubs in soft circles for just a moment before he pinches it between the two digits, tugging at it slightly until he sees slick drip from your aching slit. He cannot help the soft noise he lets out as he watches the drip of your come hit the bed. He is so hard it hurts from just thinking about being inside of you as you continue flexing your pelvis like that.

How the fuck are you going to come from just this? Has he really spent so much time in bed with you that this is something he can force out of you? He is struck by fascination at your trembling body, letting you breathe, even if it’s just barely, by swirling the toy around your nipple. 

“More,” you pant in frustration, swallowing down a frustrated moan to not piss him off, “Turn it up.”

“Hey, that’s not how we ask for things in this family. What’s the magic word?” He teases, finger hovering over the button. He pinches your nipple with the fingers on his other hand, forcing a cry past your lips. You don’t even get to the please. 

Instead, your hand flies to your mouth but you manage to calm your noises again, sliding your fingers into your hair instead. Javier decides then to press the button twice before putting it back on you, watching those fingers yank at your own follicles. You nod and your hips are practically gyrating by now. 

“Javi, fu— fuck,” you gasp out, “I—“

“I know, baby. I can see it on you,” he says, making a noise low in his throat at the way your head falls back into the mattress. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your bottom lip getting caught between your teeth again as you teeter on the edge of your first orgasm. He cannot believe your clit is still untouched because when he dares look down, it peeks out from underneath its hood as if he’s been giving it attention. 

“I’m gonna come,” you announce with a strained voice, still very aware of your noise levels. Quickly, you reach down to cover your mouth with the whole of your palm and then, with furrowed brows, you’re off into ecstasy. It hits you like a shot of adrenaline, your body going rigid before writhing on the sheets. The hand on your mouth turns your moans into desperate whines that stir Javier’s desire even more. His heart races at the sight, his eyes watching hungrily as you come undone the first time of many. 

“Jesus Christ, Mamá,” he removes his hands and turns off the toy when you go from enjoying the tingling of pleasure to shaking at the oversensitivity of your breasts. 

The hand falls from your satisfied smile to lay beside your head. You giggle as excitement is flowing through your veins, “Gimme a second and you can go again.”

“Is it better than me?” He smiles at your cute laughter and wiggles his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Not even close but it’s nice if you’re not available.”

“You know… I would come home during my break if you needed me,” he leaves the toy next to you so he can crawl over you and dip down for a long kiss. 

“I’m sure you would,” you nod at his words, slipping your tongue past his lips. 

He holds himself up with a forearm above you so he can use his free hand to push your shirt further up and over your head. You stretch your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely, only breaking the kiss for the moment it takes. 

“I’m ready for one more,” you say after a few minutes of just making out with him, arms slung around his neck in a desperate embrace and lips kissing him until they’re swollen. When he sits up on his knees again, he notices the way that his mustache has scratched you slightly and makes a mental note to trim it sometime tomorrow. 

You look so radiant when you’re in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, and while he gets his pillow to place it underneath your hips, he admires the beauty of you underneath him like this. You have your hair tousled, your eyes are half-lidded, barely open from the way remnants of pleasure still hasn’t been washed away from them, and your velvety skin glistens with a sheen of sweat that’ll make you shiver if he doesn’t heat you up again. Javier wants to lick it off, wants to eat you up until he has devoured you. You’re beyond softer and sexier than any other time he gets to witness you. 

“Javi,” you murmur softly when he’s too slow. 

“What, mi amor (my love)?” He pretends not to hear your demanding voice hidden beneath your tired one. 

“I wanna do it again,” you have a playful glint in your eye. 

“Again?” He teases but his cock pulses, heavy between his legs at the knowledge that he will see you come undone once more in just a moment. He chooses the word moment because the little sucker knows what it is doing and if you respond so well to getting your nipples played with, a part of him is afraid that it’ll be over the second it touches your clit. 

“Javi,” you drag out his name in further frustration. 

Javier rubs your thigh soothingly, “You’re obsessed with this thing. How long have you had it?” 

“Uhh, not long,” you reply, visibly clenching at just hearing the toy start buzzing again. You scoot further towards him, presenting your pussy for him.

“So directly? Or?” He reaches down between your legs, the toy hovering over your mound for a moment before he decides to let it suckle on the skin of your inner thigh where he has just touched you. You breathe deeply in through your nose, wanting to look down at what he is doing but your pregnant belly is already shielding it from view. 

“Yes but the lowest setting,” you instruct. Your hand dips down between your thighs to spread your lips, giving him access to your hard clit, “I’m still sensitive.”

“And wet, ¡Dios mío (my God)!” He marvels with suppressed excitement and moves the toy inwards, trailing its tip until it sits right by your hand. You sigh at the attention, dripping even more from your slit in anticipation. 

Your hips hitch up when he finally covers your clit with the hole of the toy, a quiet moan slipping from your mouth as it falls open. Your face goes slack in contrast to the tension in your pelvis, your body subconsciously moving around to seek the most sensation. 

He guides it steadily up and down, barely rocking it but still moving it enough to create just a bit of a tug on your swollen nub. He sees you lose yourself in it and stares down at you while cupping the bulge on the front of his briefs to relieve some of the desperate pain. He moans low in his throat, “Mi chica bonita (my beautiful girl).”

You respond with a little louder noise, an orgasm already creeping up on you. He shushes you gently, “No noise, baby. Try breathing through your nose or I’ll have to cover your mouth.” 

You clamp your mouth shut and make a muffled sound.

“Look at that pussy flutter for me,” he looks between your legs then smiles up at you, pleased with what he is doing to you. He turns up the power on the toy. Your head falls back against the bed. He sees your brows knit together and then he knows, “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Javier watches with his hand gripping firmly around the outline of his cock and the toy held firmly against your core. You do a fantastic job of making as little noise as possible but the desire to make a racket is there beneath the surface, especially when your high peaks and there’s a moment where you hold your breath just before shivering with the pleasure in your cunt. 

He gives you another break but you shake your head. He looks curiously down at you, uncertain if you mean it, “No? Again?”

“Make it hurt, please, Javi,” you beg and he thinks he might come untouched from those words. It’s so rare to have you like this when the house is still full. He doesn’t doubt whether it is a good idea though, just turns up the heat and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm. 

You gasp towards the ceiling and slam your legs closed while you grab at the sheets. You look like you are possessed, eyes rolling back into your skull as you come a third time. It must be painful because you are whimpering like a wounded animal, nearly ripping the fabric underneath you and begging silently by only mouthing the words in a worse manner than he has ever experienced as a father of three - soon five - children. 

“Keep going,” you demand almost angrily, concentration on your face as he presses the button to the next level of pulses. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re about to levitate into the air, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna come,” you inform him breathlessly.

“Already?” Javier’s brows are nearly in his hair. He is stroking himself on top of his underwear now, itching to feel something when you are lying in a pool of tears, sweat, and your come. Seeing you like this, he has no idea how he is ever going to get anything practical done this weekend; he’ll be doing you every chance he gets until you can’t walk. So hard that he’ll have an excuse to stay home with you on Monday just so he can spear you on his aching cock over and over. Even if you scream, even if you drool, and even if you sob.

When your fourth orgasm of the night starts to gain up on you, he observes the way your legs start to twitch. He holds the toy steady, pushing it against your clit as you nearly go cross-eyed with pleasure. His eyes are wide, the concentration lost for just a second too long when your legs start shaking as you near your end. The toy slips just half an inch, losing its grip on your clit and the accident turns you feral. You reach for his hand, yanking the toy out of his palm, and settle it back into place. 

And then you come. So hard that he has no idea what to say or do, watching a steady trickle of pearly white mess gush out of you as your pussy jumps along with your heartbeat. You try so desperately to keep quiet but the sensation seems to be so intense that you might draw blood from your lip if you don’t get to cry. 

“One loud one, no, no, look at me. One,” he tells you calmly, knowing you are probably seeing spots, “Let me hear.”

You don’t hesitate, face scrunched up in ecstasy while you let out a wreaking sob that’s so close to you screaming that he almost (but not really) regrets allowing you to be noisy. You pant, kick, and scream, tears running down your face as you are lost to the world, leaving him with nothing to do but stare hungrily as he thanks the heavens that you have found a toy that makes you look so happy and beautiful. He’d be its lead promoter if someone wanted him to. 

When it becomes too much, you don’t even turn off the thing. You simply just let it fall from your hands and slump into the bed, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick against Javier’s own. He listens for the sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway for a moment but there’s nothing, not even a squeak from the baby monitor.

“Get inside of me,” you half-beg, half-order with barely any breath in your chest. Javier doesn’t hesitate to step off the bed, slipping his briefs off, and stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. Your eyes watch, huge and wet, filled with desperation for being stretched out after only having your clit played with. He will never dream of denying you when you look like that. You nearly hiccup, “Please.”

“Shh, you’ll get it, mi vida (my life), you’ll get whatever you want,” he soothes softly but then continues the rough streak. He curls his hands around the back of your knees and yanks you off the pillow towards the edge of the bed, sliding your body through the mess you have created. 

You are like a siren with the eyes you are sending him, making his cock stand in the air and at level with your empty cunt. He grabs at the base of his length, guiding the thick head through your folds for a few seconds to slick himself up. However, the need to be inside of you, to pound into you, is too much and he pushes into you not long after. 

The feeling of filling you up has Javier’s heart pounding against his ribs, endorphins running through his system as his mind quiets down completely when he has you like this. Your warm and familiar walls engulf his touch-starved cock and the both of you breathe shakily in relief as you melt together. You even manage a mix between a breathless laugh and a quiet moan, a sound that makes him twitch inside of you as he regains his composure. When he starts fucking you, dragging you by your legs down onto his cock over and over again, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to be careful, your walls so wet and soft from how much you’ve been touched. 

He repeatedly snaps his hips forward to cause an obscene smacking noise that bounces off the walls. You nod frantically at the way he moves inside of you, nose scrunching up with concentration on the sensation of his dick slamming into your front wall. Yet it seems as if you’ve become nearly impossible to please from coming so many times; your hands are placed on top of his, frustration evident on your face, “Harder.” 

“Nena (baby girl),” he pants whilst fucking you, “I’m already going hard.”

“I need it harder,” you whine, writhing slightly, “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks playfully and earns a glare that you only seem to perfect when you are pregnant and not getting your way. He smooths his palms up and down your sweaty thighs, thrusts coming to a complete halt, “Crawl back.”

He pulls out his cock with a grunt, letting you gaze hungrily at it when you’ve seen it glistening with your wetness. He is the one getting impatient now, snapping his fingers to keep up the part he is playing for you, his role as the man in charge even if it’s hardly true, “Go on then. Back.”

You move with shaky limbs, your body exhausted from its continuous stimulus. You end up lying flat on your back with your legs wide open for him, holding out your arms with a tiny dissatisfied complaint of a whimper, “Javi.”

Javier finally kneels on the bed and moves forward until he is hovering above you. He grabs the still buzzing toy on the bed and reaches for your hand. He places the toy in your palm and closes your fingers around it, knowing what he wants, “I just need you to promise me that you’ll choke my dick when I fuck you with this joining the fun.”

You nod repeatedly and that’s good enough for him to go crazy for you, even wreck the bed if that’s what you want to do. Thank God that there’s no school tomorrow because you’d be hobbling around with how sore he is going to make - and has already made - you. He leans down and cages you underneath him, buries his face in your neck as he bottoms out inside you in one hard thrust. His pelvis touches yours, his chest, your sensitive tits, his body unable to get close enough.

When he rocks his hips this time, he starts really putting his back into it. You slide your free hand up his bicep to cling to his shoulder, saving yourself from being pushed across the mattress with how forcefully he drives his cock into your heat.

He breathes hard as he exhausts his body to give you what you need, knowing that you can take it even if it aches. He can feel drops of sweat slide down the length of his spine, gathering at the small of his back as he switches to harsh rolls of his hips. 

The switch gives you room. He doesn’t have to actively listen for the muffling of the sucking toy’s buzz to know that you have started to hold it against your clit because your whole cunt jumps at the attention. 

You press your mouth into his bare shoulder to muffle your screams, bravely taking on another round of obscene pleasure as his lower belly burns with the desire to come. 

His head swims with the overtaxing use of his muscles, the strain on his thighs that has started to ache from how much he wants to make your head spin. He feels a tear fall from your eye and drop down on his skin, your whimpering voice trying to encourage him not to stop the torture of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as the sensations are becoming increasingly more intense. He turns his head to breathe heavily against your ear, breathing damp against the shell of it when he tries to speak while his lungs empty as small puffs of air. He wants to tell you how good it feels, and concentrates on whispering filthy things in your ear, “That’s it, you can— oh God, you can take it, baby.”

You sound like you’re trying to overcome your own body, fluctuating between whines and groans. He goes on, “No wonder you’re always carrying my babies. You take it so fucking well each time, amor (love). Made for it. Made for getting knocked up.”

You lock your legs around his ankles, clinging to him as he crashes into you repeatedly. He hears you desperately move the sucking toy back and forth, hears the intensity being turned up to a higher level than he has even dared. You sound pornographic even in your quietness - like one of those videos where they don’t want to get caught but just cannot keep all noise at bay - as you get fucked by him whilst it sends you through the gates of pleasure heaven simultaneously. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“And if you weren’t made for it, I’d be sure to mold that little pussy into shape,” he growls quietly. You start to have that dazed look in your eye, have a grip around his cock that tells him exactly what is going to happen, “Oh, baby. You gonna come on my cock, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak. 

“Yeah?” He mocks. 

Javier enters the final sprint, fucking you open in a frantic rush that almost borders on being gross, greedy and animalistic. You mewl pathetically from the intensity, biting into his skin as he makes you come with pleasure slamming through your body roughly enough to make you start crying. 

To soothe you, he pulls back his head to kiss you longingly even if it becomes nothing more than a messy crash of your mouths together. He does it to quieten down himself too, finding that his stomach is tightening and his balls are drawing up from being so close. You’ve tightened around him too because whereas you should remove the sucker from your clit, once again, you don’t, and the questionable choice has your walls clamping down on him in overstimulation, squeezing his dick so heavenly that his hips stutter. He comes inside of you when the smaller fit has him seeing stars, groaning into your mouth as he pulses into you. 

The buzz of the toy becomes louder again but only because it slips from your hand, your body trembling with overwhelming excitement as you come down from your millionth orgasm in a fairly short period of time. You sob without being sad, curling in on yourself as soon as he pulls out of the dripping mess between your legs. He is on you instantaneously, pushing your hair out of your face, turning off the toy, and cooing gently. 

“Oh, Nena (baby girl), you’re okay,” he tuts while you cry quietly, several teardrops rolling down your nose as your body tries to escape itself. He kisses your shoulder, blows a raspberry on it, “You did so good for me. You’re okay. We just went a little overboard.”

Javier rolls off of you but instead of following the instinct to rest his exhausted body by lying down, he sits up in your shared bed. He scoots close to you until he can coax you to drag yourself into his lap with a feeble whimper, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth like a newborn. He supposes you must feel rebirthed. You sob into his chest, cheek pressed into where his heart hammers, and still overwhelmed with the painful pleasure that you have just experienced. 

“Shh,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the crown of your head. He kisses your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your sweaty back until your cries turn into tiny hiccups instead, “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The way you cling to him tells him that you feel safe with him. He dares lift your chin, looking into your puffy, red eyes and rubbing a tear-streak away from your face. His voice is raspy from sex, “Are you okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay,” you croak with a tired and tiny smile, shivering as the sweat starts to cool down. He holds you a little tighter. You relax in his arms even despite getting a bit of control back, “Scatterbrained.”

“Lo sé (I know),” he huffs out a chuckle with another kiss to your head. He cups your jaw and dips down for a kiss on the lips too, thumb rubbing affectionately along your cheekbone, “Pero eres tan hermosa (but you’re so pretty).”

“Thank you,” you cover his hand on your face with your own, “I’m ready to conk out.”

“Shower?” He asks and suggests at the same time.

“I won’t be able to stand upright for that long,” you run your hand over your forehead instead, laughing quietly.

“Alright, bath it is then,” he gently runs his fingers through your hair, “Ready?”

“You’re going to carry me?” You ask with a raised brow as he starts moving towards the edge of the bed with you, “I weigh a ton with this pregnant belly.” 

“I do lifts with our daughter on the daily, you know,” he jokes, “Best workout method in years. Even if she talks a lot.”

You yelp with a laugh as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you through the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor with you in his arms bridal style, and sets you carefully on the edge of the bathtub. As he turns on the tap and lets the tub fill, he imagines the cool porcelain is nice against your sore thighs and cunt. 

After testing the water, he gently helps you into the tub with a comfortable silence between you. The content look on your face is a reward in itself, even moreso the sigh that you let out as the water envelops you and turns your tired muscles to putty. 

Javier washes your hair, leaning your head back and scooping water into his hand to rinse out the shampoo. He runs his fingers across your back and shoulders too, relieving some of the tension he has caused tonight. 

“What about dinner tomorrow?” You ask out of the blue and he nearly wants to laugh because, of course, you’re already back to being a mother. 

He puts conditioner in your hair, “I was just inside of you.”

“And that means that I can’t start planning your kids’ best lives?” You tease. 

He rolls his eyes affectionately, “Fine. I think we should just do something easy.”

“Actually,” you say. Here we go, he thinks. You turn your head to look up at him, “The kids have been talking about a picnic in the backyard, and Lucas really wants to try out the new tent we bought.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not protesting. It does sound fun. 

“And I checked the weather forecast earlier,” you add then clarify, “It won’t rain.”

“Baby,” he says with an affectionate smile as he rinses out the conditioner too, “You need to shut down that brain of yours. You do plenty enough to keep us happy.”

“It does shut down sometimes,” you reassure him with a little smile, rubbing your nose in a manner that he always finds adorable. You lean back to simply soak in the warm water, belly just poking out above the surface, “When you touch me.”

Javier lays a hand on your stomach, caressing you in slow circles. He feels playful when he knows you’re getting back into your normal self again, “Guess I’ll just have to keep touching you then.”

“I guess so,” you reply simply, eyes closed and a lazy smile on your face. Jesus Christ, he loves you and everything you have given him. 

“I’ll let you sit here for a few more minutes, really let you cook,” he tells you, bending down to kiss your hair. He pushes himself to stand, “I’m gonna go plug your new friend in all over. I think we drained the battery.”

“Don’t pass out,” you say in a sing-song voice, “Love you.”

“Te amo tanto, mi amor (I love you so much, my love),” he replies and leaves you alone with a hand on your belly. He hears you talk to his unborn children, and it’s almost sad that the time it takes for him to wash the toy gently in the sink, plug it in, and head back to you isn’t long. 

Finally, with his help, you finish the bath. He helps you to the seat of the toilet, hands you a towel, and drains water from the tub.

“I had the same old question today,” he small-talks while you are on the toilet to dry yourself. He steps over the edge of the newly-drained tub to stand in it, pulling the shower head off the wall to wash himself down from the remnants of what you have just done in bed. He’ll hurry up to finish before you so you don’t start changing the sheets in your pregnant condition. 

“Yeah?” You decide against what you are doing and go, albeit shakily, to find a flannel. You soak it in lukewarm water and instantly sigh as you place it between your legs. 

“Lucas wants that damn dog so badly,” he continues as he washes himself, “I told him it was a bad idea. He got pretty upset.”

“Is it? A bad idea, I mean?” You wash the flannel clean after using it and wring out the excess water before hanging it on the side of the laundry basket.

“I said yes but I also said it was you who had the final say in it. I’m not carrying a litter,” he huffs a small laugh and steps out onto the bath mat. He dries himself, “Two babies, a toddler, and a puppy seems like pushing it, baby, no matter how well-behaved.” 

“I had a dog growing up. It was pretty great and made me feel less alone,” you muse. You turn around to lean against the bathroom counter to steady yourself, watching him with a smile in your naked state, “We could find one in a shelter. A grown one.”

God, you are pretty. He hangs up his towel and draws nearer, stopping only when he has you caged between the sink and himself. He leans in for a kiss and you cup his face whilst he talks, “You’re so good.”

“We could surprise him for his birthday. I don’t like those puppies spending time in those cages during August. It’s too hot. They should be running in the grass,” you scratch his cheeks with your nails, pouting slightly. 

He kisses the pout off your face and puts a hand on your protruding belly, “You’ll look so beautiful during August.” 

“This isn’t about me,” you note with a grin and pat his hand, “Focus on your son for a second.”

“We’ll never be able to top that birthday present,” he says with his eyes glazed over by love, “Just saying.”

“But he’ll remember it for the rest of his life,” you argue. 

“Guess we’ll have to browse the local places then,” he gives in, sliding his hand around your waist. 

“You’re a great dad,” you return the caress by laying your palm on his bare chest. His pulse is high when you look at him like that, saying those things. 

“Don’t or I’ll have you right here again,” he threatens playfully. 

Despite your previous state, you respond cockily by turning around so your ass is level with his dick. You lean forward slightly but only to grab your toothbrush for the second time tonight and disappoint him. 

“Anything else happen today?” You ask as if nothing has happened whilst putting toothpaste on your brush. It matches his. You look at him through the mirror and he takes a moment to think, collecting his thoughts instead of getting hard again. 

“Oh, right, uh,” he gives up and takes a step to the side, reaching for his own toothbrush. You hand over the tube of toothpaste to him. He puts it back in its holder when he is done using it, “Well, there’s a new kid in Inés’ class. I ran into her mom or rather… Inés ran into her.”

You raise a brow in the mirror.

“Anyway, she was real friendly,” he recalls the moment earlier and speaks around his toothbrush, “They’re new in town and she wanted someone to show her around. She actually invited us for coffee.”

You turn to him now, having stopped brushing your teeth. It looks like you are trying not to laugh at him, “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He turns to meet your gaze and furrows his brow. Oblivious. 

“I’m sure she was super excited to invite you and your wife for coffee,” you chuckle, and a bit of toothpaste dribbles down your chin. You reach to wipe it off, “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey,” he clicks his tongue at you. 

“Did you give her your number?” You ask casually. 

“No… I told her that I would find her contact info on the class sheet,” he tells you and you laugh for real this time. 

“Ever the romantic,” you snicker, “Oh, you broke her heart with that.”

“Fuck, do you think she was trying to come onto me?” Javier realizes the true meaning behind the interaction. 

“Well, duh,” you start to brush your teeth again but cannot help giggling throughout the rest of cleaning them, “I bet she was batting her lashes at you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I thought she was just being friendly,” he continues his own brushing. 

This happens more and more often. You are so deeply ingrained in his mind that his time as a casanova is so far behind him that he sometimes cannot pick up on these things anymore. He wants to say that it’s a conscious choice to be oblivious but it honestly is not. There’s just no one else but you.

“So are you gonna call her? Is it serious?” You taunt him after rinsing your toothbrushes together. 

“You’re in for a smack to your ass if you continue,” Javier rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the color of embarrassment in his cheeks. He hurries to go change the sheets before you start doing it.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you blink at him as you pass him to get your clothes from the bed before he has crumpled them up into the dirty sheets. 

He smiles and gets dressed with you afterward, standing on each of your respective sides of the bed without saying much. 

In bed, you kiss and say your ‘I love yous’. He falls asleep after a few minutes of listening to your slowed breathing. Just like he has done thousands of times before. It never gets old.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[tightjeansjavi]

Congrats on being here writing for one year!!!

🦋Can I please request a little mini drabble for Javi G?

And since you know I love my little bad boi/soft boi - can you please make him a little naughty? He's not a big, mean man, but I think he can be spicy when he wants to be.

xoxoxo

Patti, anything for you my darling 💗

Thank you for taking my Javi G v-card ;)

-

Tease

A/N: spicy, spicy, spicy! 🥵🌶️

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant comes with many perks.

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x f!personal assistant reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, power imbalance (boss/employee) reader is ballsy and bold, mutual pining, unprotected piv, fingering, teasing (like HELLA) seductress reader, noncon/dubcon (reader is naked in his eye-line on purpose) javi is respectful till he’s not, dom!javi, reader can understand Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, no age gap (no mention of age) +18, minors dni!

translations:

¡Mierda! - Shit!

Querida - darling

Ten piedad de mí, joder - have mercy on me, fuck

Hermosa - gorgeous

Chica mala - bad girl

translations done by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @yoongi-tangerine-22

Being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant came with…many perks. Javi was always a generous man, and even though he was your boss, and you knew it was shameful to be attracted to him, you couldn’t help it.

But what’s a girl to do with an assumed one-sided attraction? Tease the shit out of him till he simply can’t take it anymore.

It started off innocent, light touches here and there. Fluttering of lashes, giggles, and asking him questions about himself that did not pertain to the conversation at hand.

You loved to see him stutter over his responses and rub the back of his neck, or card his fingers through his luscious, soft curls.

He never acted upon his desires and urges. He always was respectful, polite, and boy, did that often drive you up a wall.

You were desperate to know what kind of man Javi Gutierrez was in the bedroom.

You started wearing revealing clothing around him. Short skirts, low-cut tops that had your tits practically staring him in the face. Flowy sundresses that allowed for easy access to your bare cunt.

He found you purposely bent over at times, with the seam of your pussy exposed—puffy, dripping a droplet of arousal like the sweetest fruit a man could ever taste.

Tempted by the bared fruit of Eden, he was. The urge was there, but never satiated. You were his assistant, and he was your boss. It would be shameful.

-

The sun was hot, blistering, boiling on your skin. One of the perks of living at Javi’s coastal home, was your free access to his inground pool. As long as you did your job, you could spend your free time lounging poolside for hours.

Today you decided to spice things up a bit more than usual knowing the exact time that Javi would come down for his afternoon swim. You would be there, waiting for him.

At first, he didn’t notice your naked form sunbathing on your stomach, ankles crossed in a relaxed position on the poolside chaise lounge. His mind was elsewhere: a new screenplay idea.

He whistled, throwing his towel down on the chair beside you, stretching his arms above his head, giving you a tiny peek at the happy trail at the top of his very tight speedo.

Your sunglasses tip down over the bridge of your nose as you shamelessly drink him in. Salivating at the look of his bronzed, golden skin that you absolutely would love to sink your teeth into.

“Mr. Gutierrez, so nice of you to join me.” You giggle softly, waving your fingers in a teasing motion.

He does a double take when his eyes finally gloss over your naked body. His pupils expand, and he nearly stumbles over his two feet.

“¡Mierda!” He exclaims, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Querida, why are you naked?!” The harmless nickname slips past his lips, his eyes going wide behind the cover of his hands when the realization hits.

“Aw, Javi! I’m your darling? Wow, you sure know how to get a gal feeling flustered!” You giggle again and slowly roll over onto your back, thighs falling open over the side of the lounge chair, just enough that he can see the outline of your cunt. “It’s far too hot to be wearing anything, Javi. My skin is absolutely boiling.” You said with a soft, airy sigh, letting your hand drift southwards to rest along your stomach. Inching—

Ten piedad de mí, joder. He thinks.

He doesn’t respond, feeling flustered as a hot flush spreads across his face. He averts from making eye contact with you and tosses his sunglasses onto his towel. You swear you hear him curse under his breath just before he dives into the refreshing pool.

Darn.

-

Javi finally loses his cool when the second draft of his new screenplay is rejected. He’s been so distracted with you and your antics that he hasn’t been able to focus! Well, he’s about to show you just how frustrated he truly is with you.

You don’t hear him approaching at first from where you’re bent over the sink, focused on washing the dishes and the song playing in your AirPods.

Your hips are swaying to the side, loose and flowy and from where Javi is standing in the opening of the kitchen, he’s practically burning holes into the back of your head.

Fucking tease.

He stalks forward, coming up behind you and nearly rips the earbuds from your ears, tossing them onto the countertop.

“Hey—” you start to say, losing your voice in your throat when you feel Javi’s palm slip between the apex of your thighs, fingers just barely brushing between the seam of your cunt.

“You’re a dirty fucking tease, querida.” He growls against the shell of your ear. His freehand yanks you back by your hip. He inhales your scent, familiar—his fucking cologne? “Naughty fucking tease. Are you—wearing my cologne?” He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering up your apparent arousal, sticky and wet for him. “Dripping all over the freshly washed tiles, hermosa.”

“Fuuck—” you whimper, pressing your ass directly against the growing bulge in his cotton shorts. Your head lolls to the side, falling back against his shoulder. “I’m your dirty fucking tease, Javi.” You spread your thighs further for him as he continues his ministrations, “Wearing your cologne, sir. Stole it from your room because I’m a bad, bad, girl. I wanted you to smell yourself on me.”

He nips at your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking harshly on your pulse point as he eases two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, knuckle deep. “Fucking always wearing short skirts around me. Those goddamn sundresses. Lost my mind when you were sunbathing naked, cunt on full display without a care in the world. You’ve made it so, so hard for me to keep my hands to myself, querida.”

“Javiii!” You whine, “please don’t keep your hands to yourself, baby. Please. Have your way with me, sir. I’m all yours.” You don’t give a flying fuck how desperate you sound for this man, you’ve been pining after him for far too long to care.

“Yeah? You think I should, hermosa? Think I should give you my cock? That’s what you want, right? You want my cock? I don’t think you deserve it, querida. Not after you’ve driven me up a fucking wall. Naughty little teases don’t get rewarded.”

He begins to shallowly pump his fingers, knuckle deep, curling them inwards. You can feel the bite of the cooling touch of his expensive rings against your hot skin. “Please, Javi! Give me anything—I’ll take whatever you give me! Your cock, your fingers!” You cry out.

“Yeah? You’re that fucking desperate for me, querida? You want my cock that fucking bad? Look at you, dripping all over my fingers…” he hums, pressing the hardening length of his cock against your ass. “You want me to fuck you so bad, little tease? Take my cock out then, hermosa. Fuck yourself on it.”

You waste no time to reach behind and blindly search for the waistband of his shorts. You let out a frustrating whine when he pulls himself back slightly just so you have to work for it a little harder. He hisses between his teeth, working his fingers inside of you faster when you finally pull his cock free through the opening of his shorts.

He’s heavy in your palm, tip weeping an angry bead of precum when you pull him back in just as he slips his fingers out. You're both a mess of breathy moans when you ease him into your wet heat, tight pussy hugging him like a fist as he bottoms out.

He’s thick, girthy, and it’s overwhelming to have all of him stuffed inside of you. It’s a delicious sensation: being stretched open by Javi’s cock.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much, hermosa.” He keeps a firm grip on your hip, his other snakes around you, dipping between your thighs so he can thrum your sensitive clit. “Fuck yourself on it, chica mala.”

And so you do.

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[millllenniawrites]

Daddy Knows Best (Joel Miller x f!Reader)

summary: stranded mid-mission, you and Joel find something to distract you while you wait. 

words: 2.1k

warnings: this is smut so 18+ only allowed beyond this point; daddy kink; afab fem Reader; Reader is described as being smaller than Joel; dark-ish Joel cause we know how dark canon Joel can get; pre-Ellie!Joel; there is very little plot happening here; established relationship; pre-established consent; gaslighting but in a sexy way; orgasm delay/denial; overstimulation; choking; elements of little!Reader; pet names (princess, baby, good girl, whore, honey, sweets); anal play; sex in front of a window (some reflections are used); rough sex; painful sex; bratty!Reader; I almost wanna tag this as cnc just because of some of the dialogue; this is what it says on the tin. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat 

no y/n 

a/n: here y’all go in honour of the final episode! i wasn't anticipating this to be my return after my hiatus but here we are

Looking out at the dark field, the lights from the helicopters sweeping an empty valley, you should be worried. Everyone is looking for you. Joel had needed your gun that morning to make a run on a supply truck — medicine . Penicillin, Zofran and, more importantly, Codeine — and his haste got you stranded on the top floor of an old office building waiting out the night watch. You should be losing your mind: locked in a room full of broken furniture, praying for a storm in the morning to cover your trail, a case of drugs beside you, one blanket to share. 

Instead of worrying, you’re naked in your business partner’s lap, your back to his chest. Joel’s near fully clothed, his pants pulled down just enough to release his cock, reclined back against a desk and laying on the few cushions you could pull from a couch. He rests against you, not inside, hard and heavy, every inch of him making your mouth water. 

“Daddy… Daddy, I want more…” you groan, trying to wiggle. To get more friction. Anything to ease the incessant warmth between your legs. 

“No y’don’t, baby.” He rocks his hips, his cock rubbing against you just enough to tease. 

You whine, head thrown back on his shoulder. “I do…” 

“Who’s cunt is this?” 

The low rumble of his voice has you clenching around nothing. “Yours, daddy.” 

He chuckles and you stop breathing. “Good girl. And what does that mean?” 

“You know best,” you gasp. 

“Exactly. So when I tell you that your leaky little cunt doesn’t need anymore, you’ve gotta believe me.” He rubs the inside of your thighs, his rough hands dragging deliciously against your skin. 

“But it’s— it hurts, daddy.” You stick your bottom lip out in a pout, not that he can see your face. You hadn’t been allowed to look at him for what felt like hours.

He chuckles, rutting his hips again so the head of his cock bumps against your clit and pulls another whine from you. “I know, baby. But having more won’t make you feel better. It’ll actually make you feel worse.” 

 “No it won’t!” 

His hand immediately moves to your throat. “What was that?” His low voice, coupled with his tightening grip on your neck, steals your breath. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you gasp. 

“That’s right. Needy little thing… Don’t make me ask again.” 

You half-expected him to slap you but instead, he lowers his hands to your thighs and spreads you out wider for him, shifting you closer to the windows. You can only just see the reflection of you both in the windows, his dark eyes, your body yielding to his every demand. 

He could snap you in half and you’d let him. 

Joel manhandles you onto your knees, resting on either side of his thighs to keep you open. Your back is still to him but you aren’t leaned fully against him, instead arching away to keep his cock resting against your cunt. 

He presses his hand into your lower back, forcing you further. “There’s my girl. So pretty for me.” His hand drags down the curve of your ass and you can feel the heat of his eyes on you. 

“Please, daddy? Just a little more?” you ask softly, holding perfectly still. “Just the tip? Please?” 

“I already said no.” Something in his voice begs you to challenge him. 

“I know, daddy. But it hurts.” You don’t wiggle despite how badly you wanted to. “Haven’t I been a good girl for you?” 

He ignores you.

“Joel, please.” 

He clicks his tongue. “Good girls don’t beg, honey. So what does that make you?” 

His words draw an ashamed whine from you. 

The way you’ve whittled away his patience comes through in his sigh. “If you can stay still for a whole minute, not moving at all, you can have a little. Hm? How does that sound?” 

“Thankyoudaddy.” Your words come out in a rush. 

Every muscle in your body clenches as you struggle to stay still. Joel lets you have your moment, but just a moment, before his hands start on you: running up your sides, pinching at your nipples, tugging gently at your hair. You let him move your head around but nothing else, your gaze trained outside to keep your focus. 

He’s too close. It feels too good. 

You can last a whole minute. You’re sure of it. 

His hands slide down your back to kneed at your ass. “So pretty, baby.”

No matter what he does to goad you, somehow, miraculously, you stay still. 

After the longest minute of your life, he coos, “Good girl.” 

Immediately sinking down, you do your best to only take the tip of him. You really really try. Clenching down, legs shaking, whimpering with the effort as he thrusts just enough that you can feel him, just enough to give you a taste of the friction you’ve been begging for. 

But he’s right. You’re needy. Too needy to resist when everything you want is so close. 

You began to rock your hips in time with his little thrusts, inching yourself lower and lower onto him. As wet as you are from the hours of incessant teasing, the stretch of him knocks the air from your chest. 

He freezes, fingers digging into your hips. At your moan, he pushes further, forcing you up and off of him enough that he’s just barely inside you. 

“Think I’m not gonna notice?” He bites out, grabbing your ankles, forcing your legs wider and flipping you onto your face. He pulls your hips up, keeping a tight grip on you as he positions you exactly where he wants you. “You wanna be a little whore? Fine.” 

He sinks into you, none of the typical warm up on his fingers or his tongue to get you ready to take him, and you scream, hands scrambling for purchase. It burns, equal parts pleasure and pain. 

“I was treating you so nice, princess. But you just had to be greedy, didn’t you?” 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you gasp. 

“Y’aren’t yet.” 

He wrenches your head back by your hair. With his knees between yours, he forces your legs wider, setting a punishing pace. His thumb rubs harshly across your clit, drawing his name from your lips with every stroke. 

He knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it. 

You cry as he finally bottoms out and his pace becomes almost brutal, his tight grip on you keeping you from squirming away. 

“Now you’re done? Had enough?” He curls over you, snapping his hips into yours. “Gonna run from me, baby?” 

“N-no, daddy,” is all you manage to get out before Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and tugging your head to the side. 

“Get ‘em wet or this is gonna hurt.”

Obediently, you run your tongue around his fingers, sucking lightly on them. He hums his approval. So close to the windows, you can see yourself in the glass, tear tracks of frustration running down your face, wild-eyed, lips tight around his fingers like you were taught. Like Joel taught you. Trained you. Hours on your knees had taught you one thing: something in your mouth meant you’d better be working for it. 

Shame runs hot down your spine.

You know what Joel wants. 

And he knows exactly how to get it. 

Something in the angle of his hips changes and his cock is dragging inside you, right where you need him. 

“Right there? That what you need?” 

“Please…” you moan around his fingers. 

“Not yet, baby.”  

As good as you’ve tried to be, as much as you’ve tried to listen, you can’t hold out. And Joel knows it. 

“Okay, baby,” he says and your eyes squeeze shut as he makes you cum for the first time that night. Relief burns hot from the denial of the previous hours, washing over you and turning your body to putty. Your back arcs further and you collapse to the cushions under you, limp. 

Joel knows an invitation when he sees one. 

His hips slow, but don’t stop. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and sinks one into your ass. No time to recover, but you can’t help but push back, wordlessly whining, begging for more despite how overstimulated you already are. 

“Greedy girl. D’you want me here next?” 

You sob and he leans over you, breath hot and heavy at your ear. 

“See, sweets? Told y’this would be too much.” 

All you can do is moan in response. You’re full, taking more than he’s ever made you as he adds a second finger. The stretch is entirely overwhelming. You know he’s talking, can feel the rumble of his voice moving through you, but you can’t make out the words, your mind fuzzy and echoing a chant of ‘please please please’.

You only realize the words are coming out of your mouth too when he flips you onto your back and his lips find yours, just for a moment, insistent and controlling even as you share breath. 

He props your hips up before starting in on you again, curling his fingers inside you and rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. “Eyes up here, honey. Lemme watch.” 

You try to reach for his cock and he bats your hand away. With a click of his tongue and a, “So demanding,” he eases his fingers out of you and lubes himself up with them before sliding in again, still working over your clit as he finds a new pace. The angle, with him driving into you, keeping you from moving at all, lets you feel every inch of him. 

“Fuckin’ love this cunt, baby,” he groans, his lips between his teeth as he watches where your bodies meet with dark eyes.  

Every part of you aches, but you don’t want him to stop. Not when he’s looking at you like that,  like you’re the only thing he can see, his brow furrowed as he concentrates every ounce of himself on driving you right to the edge. 

Your hands fist the twisted blanket under you, desperate for something to hold on to as Joel makes your body do exactly what he wants. 

“C’mon, honey. We just started. Gotta give me more. At least one.” 

Your brain whites out. 

~

He’s stroking your hair as you come to, wrapped in his arms and the warm blanket. 

“Y’okay, sweet girl? You back with me?” 

You hum an affirmative and cuddle in closer. 

Chopper blades whir overhead and you have the sense to open your eyes. The sun has begun to suggest its rising behind the far hills, but that slight warm light is really all you can make out. “’m supposed to take watch.” 

Joel chuckles, “You’ll just fall asleep.” 

“Prolly.” Your head lulls to the side so you can see his face. His gaze is focused out the window, but you’ve worked with him enough to notices when he’s watching without looking. 

And you know he’s watching you. 

“Was that okay?” you whisper. 

He rubs up your back. “You’re always perfect, honey. You’re feeling okay?” 

You nod into his shoulder so that he can feel the motion. “That was exactly what I needed.” 

He hums, “Good,” and readjusts the blanket so that it’s covering you. “I’ll wake you when I need to sleep.” 

“D’you think we’ll get out of here tomorrow?” 

His shrug is almost imperceptible. “Might need to stay one more day.” 

You wiggle up enough to kiss his cheek before burying yourself in his chest and the blankets, letting sleep carry you off. 

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis: For money and power, Suguru would do a lot, but for a love he didn’t want? Somehow, he finds himself bending even the strongest of ideals. Five years ago he’d saved a monkey—not actually processing the estranged entanglement that would lead him to.

— word count: 8.7k

— A/n: I wouldn’t be a thorough Suguru fucker if I didn’t write cult Geto and just something I (we) deserved<;3

— New Taglist: since the last one got confusing, here’s a new one babies&lt;3

— Warnings: smut!!MDNI!!Afab! Reader x Suguru; use of religious themes; minor death; power play; slight gore; impact play; sub-dom dynamics; degradation; humiliation; impact play (fem receiving); oral (m! And f! Receiving); reader is mostly referred to as a female; complicated storyline; mentions of blood

The first bell.

The second bell.

Then the third.

Married.

~5 years ago~

The words echoed in your head, over and over and over and over—it hurt.

His hands were soft as they held yours, he led you slow, your father’s did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out. And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his Servants had sung to you about, nothing like the glimpses you’d caught of him. This man, the one on your altar—that was Suguru Geto.

Not the Geto-Sama you’d heard of, the ones who was a deity to all- a pretty hand fared upon those who sought him blindly; not the Curse user Geto, the fugitive you recognised him to be, the one you hated—no.

None of that.

This was Suguru Geto—your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all. But the heart of the little girl in you wept, openly so, when the worn upon thin line of a supposed smile didn’t do so much as even cast a shadow upon you. Not to be perceived wrong, however—Suguru certainly had grinned and smirked, laughed and tickled himself senseless—perhaps so to forget this ordeal—to forget you.

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a saint Suguru Geto would be deemed the next day in the whispers of his followers, especially the ones who envied to be you.

Don’t get me wrong, congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word, just not the way you hoped—or even supposed for that matter.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, a little dream and heart crushed grudgingly when you realized it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in their weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting your presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling your father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like the storm his warm hands had saved your family from, colder still somehow was his presence, then and now. And you realized, your heart — to what you had thought to be a void, trained so — breaking as you realized that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy within your presence, or anyone else’s.

Pathetic.

But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity you despised all that was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Suguru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

But it was his choosing, was it not? And mayhaps, yours.

The cult leader had chosen you, and in the process, you—him.

He’d watched you a while, days, you knew of his lingering gaze—respectful then, disgusting now.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honor and cherish and protect Suguru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

You remembered the day clearly—father had knocked once on your once—a new found privacy in your sheltered house was the first sign.

A wide smile—“He’s chosen you.”

Your heart sunk.

He’d chosen you.

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his daughters’ smile, innocent - his followers’ sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes were hazy; his best man’s tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- not your first- the breath hitched as Suguru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he would have proven to be—or, as you knew, he was.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, your mother and sister were perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—sincerely, fuck you.

The ride back ‘home’ was tedious, it burnt, it burnt all too much.

“Geto-Sama will prove to be amazing,” the driver yapped yet, all too soon—as he had been for the past anxious hours—time moved slow, slower than the gaze you didn’t dare hold against him.

A soft smile he held, serene as if, “I’m sure he will be,” just as fake a smile you held too—husband and wife—equal footing, equal qualms at the truth you didn’t accept and lies you foretold.

‘Geto-sama’ this and a ‘Geto-sama’ that— the entire reception had been torturous, you hated it—hated the man they chose not to acknowledge—hated the murderer.

All to your liking though, the car finally came to a stop, at your residence—your new home.

-

“You may sleep here,” soft a voice, too cold, however, compared to the gaze he held—it felt welcoming.

You nodded just as quietly, a good wife would never fight, they’d taught you—more important than ever for your life now depended upon so.

“Geto-Sama,” you hated the way it rolled off your tongue so smooth—meant to be, “where will you sleep?” Innocent enough a question and yet the scoff he passed under his breath was all well noticed by you.

“Not to worry you darling,” he smiled softly still, “I wouldn’t ever imagine sleeping with you,” and wrapped in his words lay the tone of condescension—hidden all so beautifully, a small round of hide-and-seek in itself.

Lips pursed, you stared at him—“Alright, drop the act, we’re alone,” the tone itself surprised you—the confidence all the more so, as you bore deep into his eyes, unwavering.

A brow cocked, he passed a smirk well of his own, “So the monkey is capable of thinking huh?”

“To call the bearer of your children a monkey, you should know your kids will be a part of me,” it was desperate really, bringing in the prospect of a future you never wanted for the sake of some respect.

A deep rumble emerged within his chest—chaos, “You think you’ll have such rights? What are you if not worth less than your father’s money?” Your face burnt at his words—hot, embarrassed, it was true.

“A reminder perhaps,” you spoke through clenched teeth—“you were the man who came begging to my father for-”

“-begging? Please,” he scoffed, “and I wanted protection not a whore to be passed around,” his words lay sharp, all so much so that the hilt of his words was enough to penetrate too mayhaps.

“Could have called yourself a celibate, Geto-Sama,” his sharp- yours blunt, impact lay the same with both—regret caused to the other.

“Are you so desperate that you are willing to fight to sleep with a strange man, all so alien to you?” There it lay, that constant lazy smile—the one he never shied to portray to his desperate followers—now, to you.

“A husband,” gritted teeth, you baree, “you are a husband now, accept the fate,” sharp inhale—sharper exhale, you simply despised him.

Annoyance hung loose in the air, an open wound to you both.

“The only fate,” he paused—ears ringing unto the sound of footsteps—his daughters’, “is the one where you’re no more but a mere shadow in my life, monkey,” disgust all so prevalent on a pretty face as his—pity, really.

“So be it,” you nodded, a lick of your lips and a deal on the tongue, “no more a legal wife am i to you,”

“Be glad you could achieve that at all,” and just as quickly the somber mood had shifted to annoyance, it was back too—as the door clasped open, the twins rushing in to meet their new found mother.

Mother—oh just how hilarious the fate’s jokes lay.

A mother—a wife—a woman for his needs.

-

A week.

A week spent in solitude, the white ceiling, a new friendship you’d found, the dark wood flooring your vice as you suffered.

Day in and day out—seconds ticked by, slowly churning out the hours and eyes that lay moist

forever remained so.

You despised it all.

His expanse and his family, his charm and his style, his maids and his followers — his daughters, ah.

Something, perhaps you didn’t hate, that belonged to Geto, did exist.

Innocent smiles, the kind you’d never worn—hefty laughter he provided them with, his pride and his joy—now yours too, mutual a partnership the marriage was.

“Y/n,” they’d murmured excitedly, Nanako had— Mimiko's shy glances and little smiles, just as endearing.

A mother you’d become, how complicated.

But fickle was your happiness, just there and often never at all.

Your heart raced, ears perked up at the voice of approaching footsteps—daughter of Suguru Geto’s best hitman, a little too many tricks lay up your sleeves themselves.

Quick, soft, padded—your servants.

Loud, racy and sudden? His daughters.

Soundless? Suguru.

Thoughts proven none but correct, Suguru did stand bearer of your observation—a frown as always on the beautiful face.

And you wondered just how prettier it could be, if only he were gagged and stuffed aside.

“Get up,” words shuffled fast—frenzied, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Why?” Defiance, slight defiance in the form of annoyance presented to him you displayed, little impact but just enough—especially when he would let out a ragged sigh, holding himself back.

“Don't question me, now is not the time.”

Your heart soared giddily at that too—“What? Your blind followers realized your reality huh?”

A sharp gaze, piercing, bore into you.

Dead, at a finger’s flick if he wanted—but then again, he didn’t, he couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing that he’d realized in a week’s worth of time- the little smirk was wiped off quick as he kneeled close to you, so close.

“Shut the fuck up,” a whisper, all too serious, curious, you looked up at him.

“Get up,”

“No.”

Your head turned to the right sharp, a swift slap he’d landed on your cheek—it didn’t hurt,

you’d faced worse after all—but oh how it hurt you.

Apathetic, he stared.

Blankly, you stared back.

A moment of silence, heavy.

“Are you dumb?”

Silence again—you wanted to rip his hair out—“Get up,”

“Why?”

His voice, almost panicked now, it was weird.

A clench of his jaw and a brush of fingers through the hair—“Monkeys like you aren’t safe here, let me take care of it.”

And somehow, it warmed your heart.

“I can fight-”

“-yes and I know you’re hunter as passed down your lineage but shut the fuck up right now,”

Dumbly, you looked—“what is it? Some…” your mouth ran dry, “some attack?”

An unamused chuckle he was quick to let go—“no,” he paused, face reigning back to all his seriousness—“wouldn’t want my pretty wife to suffer,” his words felt fake, maybe they were.

You swallowed hard—“where to?”

“My chambers,”

Your heart sunk and yet you felt a rush of serotonin.

~3 years ago~

“Y/n,” Nanako’s voice dragged, “c’mon we’ll be late!” The constant sound of typing annoyed you—squinting eyes stared at her from a distance.

“Remind me why such enthusiasm again?”

“Papa’s dealing with non-sorcerers today,”

Again-as he had been, always.

“Mama,” the word rang in your mind—Mimiko’s voice was soft in contrast — Mama, a certain ring to it, familiarized and yet so antagonized in your head.

You hummed in response simply—“Papa requests you to be there tonight…” her words trailed away, the convocation all too loud, the impact all so evident.

“Right…” you let your words hang open as well—he wanted you present, in day and light, flesh and sight—his wife to be shown off.

Every once a while, you were his lucky charm after all.

-

Crowded, nauseating, full of idiots.

A dagger rested at your side, gift from no other than your Geto-Sama, two years ago—a

wedding gift.

You hated the fact that it was the best you could’ve managed to find.

Slow, the proceedings were, lazy his smirks as the likes of you begged.

As the monkeys begged to him.

“Headaches, nauseating? Hmm,” he smiled, pensive, reflective—“sounds to me like you’re troubled,” and just so, it amused you—to how dumb humans truly were.

Fickle-minded.

“Geto-Sama,” eyes squinted at the tone of the woman, a whimper—a common whore—begging for his touch in broad sunlight, for your husband’s touch.

Sure, you hated him—but oh how you hated the fact that he touched so many other women whilst being married to you.

And somehow, you always became the other woman.

“Yes darling?” He called back coolly, your blood boiled.

“I think…think you need to…” her words trailed away, a satisfied murmur erupting through the crowd—they remembered, remembered it well.

Engraved in the memory of most what you’d only caught the gist if, even as a rumour.

Suguru had fucked her—in front of them all.

In the name of all that was holy, all that was religious—he’d sworn it would help her—it made her addicted. One drug to another, Suguru did nothing, he would do nothing today

either perhaps.

Was this why he called you?

To humiliate you such?

“Ah ah ah,” click on pf his tongue, sharp—“Not in front of your goddess, don’t flatter yourself,”

Your heart burned.

Goddess, their goddess—you were their goddess—his goddess.

Jaw clenched, you stared from the side, distaste evident upon you and her—adorable, he deemed it.

“She’s nothing-”

-silence, as quick as she’d begun, just as quickly she retreated.

Beyond livid he seemed, amazing actor surely, never one to hear words against his precious wife.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and yours—“Oh Geto,” the suitor—the one Suguru’d been trying to impress—the one you’d been called upon for—to hit the nail on mark. The one who would sign his deal.

A continuity of a deep rumble — relevance all so long as Geto would decide.

“You act like she matters at all,” your stomachs dropped, he was right, was he not?

“What is she? A hunter?” Another prolonged chuckle—electing those from beside you as well, your ears hurt from how hot they were.

“Just a trophy wife for you isn’t she?” Unwantedly, even in moments such—of your disrespect, your eyes gazed onto him.

You hated the helplessness but…he was yours, right?

Something about the thin smile reassured you, it wasn’t much—not an ounce of anger reflected upon his face, if he felt any, that is.

You could feel the eyes of all, not the first time you’d been presented to the assembly, the first time the ruse you played was out.

“She’s my wife,” his voice was calm, “trophy or no is none of your business—she’s priced if anything—far more than you could ever afford, so think with that thick head of yours, at least once if you can manage before you dare to look at her.”

Definite—his words were fast, surprising all the more.

The laughter halted, silence was all so deafening, “You’re defending that slut before me Geto?” Shaky, the man’s voice was held—your grip tightened on your dagger.

Suguru’s smile only ever grew right beside you, “Do you want the honors darling?” You froze on spot.

Face whipped to face him, he could see the way your face shone—“Talk to me you fucker! That bloody bitch and your cult can’t do shit without me” His words rang through the hall as he did so—your feet worked upon its own.

“Just give me those whores beside you then,” he grinned further, directing his gaze onto Nanako and Mimiko.

A nodding smile from your husband being all that you need—swift you came, swift the man fell, mere seconds.

Bloods oozed, some rested upon your cheek just as much, three stab wounds—a drowning business deal of Geto—a sailing heart of yours and his smile.

The body twitched in dismay, adrenaline coursed through you—three years since you’d last killed something living, you couldn’t the feeling.

“Dismissed,” Suguru spoke aloud, basking in the shock of his followers and alike—however, yours too.

A hunter you were, sure, but not humans.

Never humans.

A sinner—his sinner.

Your body shook, the dagger fell quick, the moment the Hall was empty, just you and Suguru inside.

“What did you have them prepare for lunch today?” Domestic as if, normal, if he’d name it—acting as if a murderer did not just happen—the man’s body was still warm.

You offered none but a soft silence—“y/n?”

You hated him.

You hated everything.

You hated how he pretended to be confused by your moral dilemma.

“Can you stop?” A hiss of a voice—“you just- I- stop!”

Small an outburst, tears trickled the verge of falling apart.

“It’s fine,” he mused, “you can let go,”

“shut up,” you whispered fast- “don’t talk to me like that- like- like you’re superior. You just made me- fuck- I-”

A step all too close he took, “come here,” softly he spoke—uncharacteristic, why now?

After three years of an empty marriage—had he found your use? A hunter for him?

Not the first time you’d cried in front of him, many a confrontations had come and gone—many a times you’d thrown empty jars at him—many times he’d threatened you, all in vain.

So why now?

Empathetic all over a night? Couldn’t be.

Your heart paced, mind hurdled- hands held onto his form tightly as he did yours, body convulsing in his embrace, your kill lay astray, forgotten.

“You’re fine,” he murmured against your head—all so close, first time. And a thought you couldn’t help but withdraw—is this how those women felt? When he held them so close to where you’d never been?

“You did as you should’ve, a great wife you are,”

Sheer shambles your heart lay in—you wanted to hate him, perhaps you did—most probably, not.

“Why?” You whispered, pressed deep into his chest—an almost soothing hand upon your back rubbed, all so confused—both him and you.

“Figured you’d like it,” he smiled, “you’re not a pawn y/n,” a fumbling kiss pressed on your forehead, the spot was now sacred.

“You’re the queen on the board and it was wrong simply to let go the potential,”

“Why all this? Why now?”

An urge to pull away, an urge to ingrain yourself in him.

An empty marriage—all too loud your desires.

“You’re their goddess aren’t you?” He didn’t sound sweet anymore, it was all real—you knew so.

-

Two weeks since your outburst, two weeks since he’d held you for the first time—two weeks, you’d suffered all so much.

Mentally, emotionally—physically.

It was absurd, you’d spent three years still, yearning just some touch—but now more so than ever, you would perhaps beg for him.

A shared bed you lay in, the heat in your heart was

scorching—nothing close however to the desire between your legs.

You craved him.

“You’ll accompany me tomorrow?” fingers clasped right around the book he was reading, he didn’t do so much as glance at you—yet, it was somehow endearing.

Gradual was the display from being ordered by his servants to show up when he pleases you to, to his daughters requesting you—to him, personally recommending it, it was sweet.

You knew you were grasping on broken ends—but just something to the fallen was miraculous enough.

You poised to think, “WAR AND PEACE”- Leo Tolstoy, hefty the handler, heftier its state, creased in the middle—whitening, pages browned years ago and a certain scent you couldn’t place.

Golden were the words still, it shone.

A simple “well?” From him broke your trance, a nod you passed.

Second time in the past fortnight, perplexed you say by, watching moments tick by, unsure.

“Should I carry the dagger?” Same question as you’d asked last week—same reply awaited you, the same cunning smile, “Just your presence is enough,”

-

“23, 594 of you,” Suguru spoke in the same sweet tone of his—a mistake his words held.

A tilt to the right, to correct him or no—you sucked in any air, perhaps your last.

“Not a simple feat it-”

“-25, 394,” your voice was low, had the crowd been that of a murmuring one, it would have gone unheard—not from him perhaps, but in general.

Not a glance spared, just a single smirk, “Ah, of course.” A lick of his lips and a look downturned, “I apologise—how sweet of my wife to remind me,”

My wife.

Amusing how you still shivered at the thought of it.

The rest of his words were a blur, his tone was hollow right after the apology—the same as you’d heard when he was upset—mad.

When he’d condemned your family.

-

“Leave,” the words seemed final, a tear rolled down your eyes.

“Geto-Sama,” your father panted, pathetic—simply so, no deniance to it.

“Please,” three days you’d been beggin, three days that Geto Suguru had stripped you all of any and every sense of dignity, of some thought of self preservation.

A scoff you heard, heart shattering—as eyes gazed onto the sight of your crawling father- a hitched breath, Suguru’s eyes lay stuck on you.

“The debt,” Suguru mused quietly, “you want it forgiven?”

Your father nodded at his feet—broken sobs your mother flushed, sister’s nimble fingers upon yours—you hated Geto Suguru.

Perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself such.

Hating his woes, his breaths and his ideology—perhaps all lay a lie.

Perhaps you hated him for the humiliation he granted that day, 6 years ago.

“You’re nothing but a monkey, you know that,” Suguru mused simply, “But you are one of my best,” a hun he passed to second himself.

Eyes, obsidian as they bore into yours—“What’s your name?”

Quick, you almost didn’t catch his words, “y/n,” your father weakly muttered before letting out a pained cry—result of none but a kick from Suguru.

“I was talking to her,” a lazy smirk he adorned, “hunter?” He inquired, a nod you passed.

“Skilled?” And that you were, having served so many over the years—skilled you simply were.

“You can have her,” your father’s words lay rushed—heart seizing up deep. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- your mother wouldn’t.

“Virgin?”

“We can offer a fine dowry lord,” pants, his—gasps, yours—“Uoull be doing us a favour, in fact two.”

The man’s face flits curiously between the two of you. You wonder if he can see the embarrassed tears threatening the corners of your eyes, the set of your lips, the way your fingers are clenching and shaking.

Your heart raced, face flushed—your parents eyes’, your sister’s, all trained upon you.

What a pity—a shake of your head, Suguru’s smirk widened as he knelt onto your level.

“Whoever would marry a used whore hm?” It was the exact smooth voice that you hated—the exact low grumble you feared.

“Fuck off,” the words were quick to slip out—perhaps, not appropriate but you regretted not a single moment.

Not your mother’s gasps or your father’s tremble or Suguru and his furrowed brows.

“You’re talking to a god,” he whispered—“I don’t worship a fraud.” Your reply was defiant—the situation was bared.

A made up god among men and a woman who would never worship him—and hence came about the dilemma when the god simply found his religion in the woman.

“Interesting,” he’d hummed then, the same smile that he wore then in the assembly, three years after your marriage.

A padded thumb reached into your cheek—wiping your tears away roughly—“I think you’ll be just as useful as your father,” he grinned, and something told you he’d use you in ways more than just a hunter.

“You’ll be a better pet right?”

Before you could gasp, before you could cry—before any sense of grief had caught you, fate had tied its strings with a man you deemed a monster—and the monster to his angel.

-

The assembly took a good while to finish, 2 hours you sat, anticipating everything.

Something told you Suguru wouldn’t go tough on you—usually, he’d have someone humiliated to no extent but…you were his better half—not you, right?

“Dismissed,” he muttered as always, you couldn’t help the squirming anymore.

The last two hours you’d suffered, the wetness in you edging onto itself at the worst time possible—everytime he’d make eye contact, every time he’d glare.

“Not you,” your heart dropped, you stood as a deer in headlight then — just about to step out of the room as everyone else had.

“Come here,”

You swallowed hard—“I- I am sorry my lord I didn’t-”

“I didn’t ask you to talk monkey,” a slight pang to the heart—two weeks of overthinking was all down the drain, it didn’t mean anything perhaps.

Slowly, you trudged over, near to his feet—as close as he’d let you for the last time.

Cold eyes met you, blank a face and hair brushed open—“kneel,” he simply commanded, most days you’d have fought back- earned yourself a reprimand but not that day.

What you had was enough already.

From your position, you stared up at him—lips parted as small breaths you let out.

A moment of silence while you watched him take off the yakuta, slender a form inside—the one you’d watched simply all too many times.

“You think you’re smart hm?” Your body shook, blame put on the coldness, you let yourself shiver—passing him a shake of the head.

“Geto-Sama I-”

“-is it that difficult an instruction?” Sharp a voice, it pierced through you, “don’t talk unless I fucking tell you to.”

A frenzied nod, any deniance to be passed onto him leaving your body as you gazed upon him, ethereal—and maybe, just maybe, the fraud of a god you hated was not all so bad a money to adore.

“Thought you looked cute correcting me hm?” Ever so serene a voice, one couldn’t almost differentiate whether he truly was upset or not.

Another shake of your head, another tug at his lips.

“No?” Squinted eyes stared at you, “then attention? You wanted attention?” Your ears felt hot pink, maybe you did.

“I wouldn’t be shocked honestly,” he paused, squatting down to your level, “your father did offer me a whore,” bottom lip clasped between your teeth, you dared not to look up at him—afraid simply of the hot tears spilling.

“What is it, hm?” A large hand raised to flick the hair of your forehead—“Jealous, are we?”

Clenched jaw, you stared at the ground—audacious he was to even question it—“but that shouldn’t be it right? A legal marriage is what you promised eh?”

Too smug his voice lay, you hated him.

His hand rested at your cheek, hot to the touch—searing cold to the testament—“what was it then? An attention seeker? Or a whore?”

A ragged breath you let out—“You think it’s hilarious?” Your eyes stared down into his, “to make a fool out of me?”

The hurt in your voice was no less than prevalent, it echoed still.

“You fuck women left and right like it’s nobody’s business-”

“-oh it is about that hm?” A short chuckle he passed, euphoric to the ear, “you are a jealous bitch after all,”

“Cut it out Suguru,”

His brows raised too, and internally—yours, at the courage of calling him such, “You don’t respect me but at least respect the wedding,”

“With a monkey?” It angered you as to how deep just a couple of his words could cut—‘a monkey’ you’d never be his equal.

“Yes, with a monkey—with your wife—with the woman your daughters seek a mother in,” quick you spoke—desperate to get it all out—“The woman you’ve turned into a murderer,”

Another short laugh.

“And now it’s about that is it?”

Your blood boiled—to see him treating it all so insignificantly, “you made me-”

“-made you kill him? You killed a monkey darling, an animal of incoherent thinking. You should be glad. If anything I did you favors by granting you the opportunity to regain your skills, which are impeccable if I may,”

A tug here, a tug there— your heart was torn at his words.

“Further, you liked it—you like everything I do,”

A desperate no spilled of your lips—meaningless.

Maybe you did like it—maybe you did like the way he took you away from that monster of a father, maybe you did like the way he isolated you, gave you all to hone your skills and what not, maybe you did like the little shows of affection because you were starved.

Maybe you were simply naive.

A series of clicking sounds of his tongue entered your ears—“you create ruckus over such things hm darling?” He got up again, “calls for a punishment doesn’t it?”

A final plea you passed—broken.

“Suguru please,” shaky, “I just- you can’t fuck women like that, the servants spread rumours and- and- its all so-”

“Strip and get on all fours,” lower an octave, his voice was serious, you bit your lips and complied.

No other choice-dead at his feet otherwise, with a fate worse.

Slow, your fingers moved to take off all that was left of your decency—never the first time that you’d stripped for a man, but the first time you felt the lingering gaze.

All down to the matching set of lingerie that he’d gifted you—every once in a while as he did, a sought compensation for his actions mayhaps.

“Faster unless you wish to lengthen your punishment?” A quick shake of your head, your face felt hot, fingers twisted into the waistband of your panties —silk and lacy, almost As if innocent—as you slowly pulled them your lower half, feet tugging them off.

Bra forced away the same, shame enveloped you—not strong enough for all of you stood exposed, a cry of mercy to the god all in vain—for all too apparent, your supposed god was a fraud.

A step taken slow towards Suguru, you were interrupted with a cough—“You’re a what y/n?”

Mind blank, you stared dumbly—and exasperated sigh he let out until you finally responded, “A monkey,”

A nod of encouragement, he smirked, “and monkeys don’t walk right?”

Heights of your shame were peaking with every second passed, no other option to substitute, you nodded back—down on all fours as you crawled over to him.

The carpet was coarse underneath your knees, it hurt—not more so than your mind.

“Already so pliant sweetheart,” too giddy a voice, you wanted to punch him—but perhaps this was far better than what that would entail.

You reached over to him shortly, “only had you been all so quiet from the very beginning…but oh how does it matter now,” a grin sounded to your ears—you wanted to cry.

“All so naked,” he was walking about you now—all so exposed you stood, “so vulnerable—is this what you wanted?”

Your ears burned.

“Jealous of the women I fuck in front of my followers right? Would you want to be fucked the same? I could summon them now—” another short chuckle, “their god with their goddess.”

You swallowed hard, lips licked as you awaited—unsure of what he could do.

“Tell me, does the thought make you wet?”

“No,” lies—you knew it, and you hated yourself at that.

A hum sincere, was all he passed—“alright then. Since you do love running your mouth all so much, your tongue and hands—”

Your ears ringed as the sight of the man you’d killed flashed in front of you—“25 strokes.”

Eyes wide you stared at the ground.

A silence awaited his words and he sighed loudly.

“Say yes or does my whore want more?”

Another silence—soon he was right ahead of you—a sharp slap soon adding to the sting on your face.

Tears took no time, resting at the verge—you stared up at him, broken a voice meeting him.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered softly—trembling at the look of it—not even sure what the apology was for.

“Please please please don’t I can’t-” and somewhere along your blurred sight, his eyes softened all too little—“15.” He decided silently.

You nodded, knowing the bargain had gone deep— lowering your head, unsure of the entirety.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured, you winced slightly as you did so—the texture of the carpet felt rough—your predicament all the more.

“Count and thank me after each,” and all before you could agree— smack! The first smack struck hard.

Your eyes widened and a sharp inhale—“One—thank you Geto-Sama,” he nodded in confinement, satisfied Mayhaps, to your words.

His hand rested along the round of your ass—squeezing it, feeling it around—another smack alternated on the other cheek—“Two! Thank you Geto-Sama,”

Another squeeze—another exhale, you could feel your wetness spread.

The third strike was on the same spot as before—a pink tint added already to your ass, he adored the way you felt in his hand—“Three— thank you Geto-sa-! Ah!” You bit hard onto your lip as in the midst of your count he landed another strike at the same spot and another.

“F-four and five! Thank you Geto-Sama,” a ‘good girl’ he murmured right after, and even such—humiliated to all accords, his praise did none but cause you to feel butterflies right there.

And just there you also hated how his slaps could provide you the pleasure you hadn’t been able to.

The same cycle went on, remaining 9 spanks hit hard as before— a grab and squeeze offered in the midst of each.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss one of your reddened cheeks—warm to his lips as his other hand smacked onto the other cheek.

“Spread your legs further,” and you did, afraid to upset him anymore.

And all to your surprise, suddenly you felt a finger probe your pussy lips—beyond ashamed you could help the weak whimper and desperate cry from escaping.

“Tch tch tch,” another sharp smack on your ass, “So wet? From a spanking?”

Another whimper as your head only ever lowered in response—“or was it thought of getting off in public huh?” You could feel his tough hands tease you, he wouldn’t enter, no—just tease your slit for the hell of it.

“So pathetically turned on f’me,” he groaned—face up right against your gaping hole, inhaling sharply and taking in your scent.

“N-no,” you protested, halted only by another mean slap on your ass—“Don’t lie to the man you worship,” another nod, he’d already broken you.

The pretend disappointment was sheerly evident in his voice—his expressions, “Well I cannot really move further until you’re punished thoroughly darling,” his words sounded almost calming, even when you knew they were all so not.

The tip of his fingers were slow, slowly gliding across your glistening pussy—your inner thigh—squelch!

Eyes wide, a gasp erupted from your mouth as his large palm landed flat against your folds.

“I don’t think it’s your fault however, it’s her issue isn’t it?” Words so sweet, you only ever could think of succumbing to him—finally passing a weak nod.

“Ah ha,” he smiled to himself—impressed perhaps—“That’s a smart girl, now how many do you think are appropriate for her hm?” As he spoke, his fingers wouldn’t be called shy in the way they inspected you—gathering your slick from your hole, never entering enough to please, and leading it up to your asshole—dirty.

A sense of dread coursed through you, involuntarily you tried turn around to beg him not to—another sharp slap, a sob from you.

“5?” Your voice was soft—and somehow, even in his moments of pure power Suguru couldn’t help but want to be kind to you.

And this time, he hated it.

“5 it is,” he murmured, pressing his fingers upright to your pussy lips—“Count, no need to thank this time,”

Slowly his hands already your thighs further apart—shame no more a blanket, you could only moan at the shy touches to your core.

His hands stroked your inner thighs slowly—easing you out, you knew the trick of course, as a hunter must and even then a sharp inhale and “sh-it,” you spoke as his hand Landed on your pussy.

“One,” you called out meekly, and unlike the slaps he used to redden your ass, these weren’t all so pleasurable.

Without a word he landed another—your body lurched forward just the slightest—“Two!” Your voice trembled at his touch, especially in the way he dragged his fingers all so close to your clit and then landed the third spank.

“You’re taking it so good sweetheart,” a mess, a sincere mess is all you were—breaking apart at his touch and words- all so unsure of how you felt.

The last two Spanks were a blur, broken sobs eliciting your throat at them too as finally Suguru caressed your hips— held it soft, smothered it with slight kisses—as if he cared.

“Think you deserve a reward now, monkey?” A whine escaped you at the reference to the animal he deemed everyone else as—and yet another “Yes please,”

You knew better than to hope he’d have pleased you but all how it went, you could help the slight disappointment in you when he sat across you—spreading his legs.

An amused chuckle he let out at your expressions—“You really didn’t think I’d touch a used up pussy as yours eh?”

He would—oh how he desperately wanted to—your eyes remained down cast.

“C’mere be a good slut and get me off,” hesitant was the way you crawled over to him nestling yourself between his legs—hesitant, yes but eager all the more.

And just the same his other followers felt engulfed by the need to please him.

Fingers fumbled with his belt for a second before a raised brow from him stopped you—“did I tell you to take it off?”

Your breath hitched- confused you gazed up to meet an annoyed expression, “Do only as much as you’re told to, don’t true that pretty mind of yours.”

All the encouragement you needed as you slowly raised your face up to his crotch—“Go on,” he murmured, placing his hand at the back of your head—and just so you found your face pressed hard against his crotch, taking in the musky smell— your eyes watered with the pressure he held you with, your pussy grew wetter with the avoidance he lay.

Soft whines you let out against the thin fabric of his underpants as your fingers gripped onto his toned thighs.

You could feel the thick outline of his dick—not that you lay experienced much but that would certainly be big as it went.

His hand stroked your hair softly and pulled you away too—“pull them down,” he ordered and fervently your fingers pulled the waist of the only fabric covering him down—his hardened dick spring out at once.

You fought all urges to touch it at once—looking right into his eyes, awaiting any command.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to angle himself better—“Tongue out,” he muttered softly, staring at your face.

Adorable to him.

On your knees you say, tongue out and mouth wide as you watched him drag the tip of his cock and slap it against your cheeks twice—demeaning you usually would’ve found it—now you craved it dearly.

Three slaps he lay on your tongue from his tip still—plap! Plap! Plap!— salty it tasted, his Precum.

“Take it all in,” none to your surprise, you were quick to try your best—you know you couldn’t, but to try was the way to go.

“Don’t suck just yet,” he commanded, as his dick lay inside the warmth of your mouth—you wanted to gag immediately, pull away.

“Keep it there,” he whispered, the large hand gayab at the back of your throat, keeping you from pulling away.

Tears were quick to rush down your cheeks as you struggled to gag—the slight pull and an annoyed glare from him.

All too quick he pulled out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking pull away,” a warning, “cry all you want—fucking throw up from gagging I don’t care, but don’t pull away,” you nodded through your tears as you took a second to catch your breath.

“Again,” he said and again, you began.

It was tough to breathe, yes, and hard not to pull away but a look at his blissful face and you couldn’t help it—“start sucking, slow,”

And that you did, tears dried as more came a afresh, you sucked slowly onto his tip and length—weak whimpers seemed guttural as you rocked your face back and forth onto his length.

“You know why- ha- ah,” he paused, moaning, as you teased him slight, “I let you do this?”

His eyes scanned your pretty face, sucking him all so good—trying your best to please him.

“So you remember that mine is the hand that feeds you,” just then his hands balled up your hair into a fist, rough, he pulled you.

“So you- shit! Suckin’ me like the slut you are huh?” Broken gasps he let out as well as he pushed his length down your throat.

As much as you hated him having the reigns, to see him lose composure was a beautiful process.

“That feels so fucking good — ahah — I'm not pleased with you fuck j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take your master’s cock like you're meant to."

You couldn’t see from down there, his eyes rolling back but you knew it was tough for him to sit still—god how you loved it.

“Listen darling,” he began yet again—his fist was quick to pull your face away from his cock, all to yours and his displeasure.

He held you by the hair—a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick hung loosely.

“Always fucking remember that you’re the one begging to be fed by me—not the other fucking way around,” you wanted to nod but all that let out was small whines.

“Geto-Sama, please,” you cried, “pleasepleaseplease let me- fuck- let me help. Want you to- to mark me? Please will you?”

Suguru fought hard to suppress the moan he wanted to out—he hated that he loved seeing you this way—he hated how he wanted to see you such everyday.

He hated how for the past three years he’d wanted this but how he loved you.

Oh how he loved his silly.

And just as that his length was shoved deep into your mouth again—and internal conflict in his mind as he face fucked you senseless—he just wanted you carnally and you, him.

Not long did it take before you knew he was close.

“Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that mouth, stuff it so good not a drop spills out.”

And at that, without another word he came inside—a warm gush in your mouth as you struggled to keep it all in—to please him—hot and sticky as he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he murmured as his fingers tapped your cheek—hinting at you to swallow it all.

-

Suguru watched as your tired body panted and lay still on his form—head resting against his thigh.

A soft hand brushed through your hair, a gentle smile as he wrapped the Yakuta around your naked body.

In hindsight, maybe he would regret it—but in the present of this entirely, he loved it.

He loved you.

Two weeks, suguru’s heart had churned—perhaps more than yours—to have you lay against him for the past three years was no issue, not until he knew your heart was opening up to him.

And something in him fought him to have him now that that, was a bad idea.

He realized now that, that something was all too stupid a thought—especially when he could now carry your body softly, pressed up against his chest as he Carried you to the shared chambers, his chambers.

Oh how he loved you being his.

A monkey—his mind called out, the woman I love, his heart snapped back.

It was confusing, to him and you and everyone around—that he was all so enamored by you—nothing more of a simple hunter you were, skilled yes, but it wouldn’t add up.

But then he’d look at the serene expression on your face as he slept and everything senseless would fall back—as he fell in love a little more when your fingers clasped onto his when he was pulling away.

~now~

Day and night.

Slowly they passed.

The first year, then the second and then third—all the way to five years and there you sat, right beside him, regal.

Don’t get me wrong, you perhaps still hate him and he despises you too—but it is in the certain way, that every third night you’re clamping down on his form and he holds you softly right after—“I love you” muttered by neither.

-

He wasn’t sure on to why it was the way it was.

He hated monkeys, you were one—so equally, he must also hate you—and yet, his heart ached the day your father thrust your hand into his.

He’d seen you before that day still, running about, aloof—you enjoyed your craft—he’d enjoyed seeing you do so. Marriage to him was simply a barrier to your skills—he knew that, and yet not being married to him was a barrier to mayhaps a comfortable life.

Never before Had Suguru pitied monkeys such—and yet, to the see the tears roll down your eyes, he felt captivated.

In the way the silence of his halls was dimmed when his daughters would call for you—in the way you unnecessarily commanded his house—as if you held that power.

But then, mostly you did.

In the way you held pillows all too close to yourself to feel some warmth—in the way you used the pillows as a means of a boundary between the two.

In the way you forced yourself to hate him, in the way you whimpered against his touch.

Everything.

And anything.

All he knew deep down was he wanted you happy, with him and often, without him.

-

“Do you know this man?” The words rolled off his tongue smooth, you stared intently at the man bowing at your feet.

“No,” words were often simple lies when you stood beside him in that assembly, the man, once referred to as your father, inhaled sharp at your words.

Suguru’s smirk only widened—your mother and sister long gone perhaps, you didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Suguru never let you care.

“He’s committed a crime,” Suguru motioned to the crowd awaiting—“A dire crime,” his eyes now trained upon you—“And as always, our goddess here will help us ride of it, yes?”

Not the first time you’d been asked—two years, the first murder you’d committed and since then, that’s how Suguru used you.

The best hunter he had, his prized one.

His hand wound around you softly, a creep to your abdomen—“wanna play a game?”

The blood inside you rushed—it didn’t matter.

None of it.

You’d killed plenty monkeys, Suguru adored you simply as you did and you did too—but today was different.

Today, stood in front of you, a true criminal.

Blood of monkeys never bothered you—you were their deity, Suguru had reminded you every time you cried—they were honored to die at your hands.

The wood that surrounded you was thick—beautiful really, especially for a game of hide-and-seek.

A shove he passed to your father, rough—“Run,” he ordered, dark eyes softening as they landed upon you.

“Kill him in 2 hours and I’ll let take over tonight,” a smile sketched onto your lips—“and if not…” a similar smile etched onto

his.

-

Legs sprawled beside his head—your fingers clutched hard onto the sheet beneath.

“Suguru,” your voice drew out—a whine, “Please…” you cried out softly as his tongue lapped onto your clit.

“Please what darling?” A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh—another whine.

“I was just 7 minutes late,” your dirtied clothes lay away forgotten—the neat white towels he’d used to wipe the blood off of you—used to cleanse and purify you again lay just beside his head as you tugged on hair harshly.

A soft giggle he let out—“7 minutes too late baby- you knew the punishment right? Let me edge you thrice more now, be a good pet.”

And another giggle he passed, eliciting a sharp cry of his name when he pressed his tongue flat on your clit.

And Suguru loved this, so Did you.

Your god and his goddess.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

Tags: @illogicallyx @myrand0mfand0mbl0g @rizzmin @lavendervogh @kazoomas @gojoismybitch @mistyheart @spaceisfarfarawayy @4sat0ruu @isentsworld @gl0ri0us-l0ve @playboicartina @hiomi-hiomi @misaki-the-lotusflower @abitoldschool @immurrsed @bbytamaki @hqkalon (no because thanks for the amazing words frfr)

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP Wednesday with Peña-Rockford

(It's still Wednesday if it's 3 am and I haven't gone to bed yet, right?)

Alright, if you saw @sin-djarin's poll from this morning you may have noticed how, eh... things escalated quickly. So this WIP preview/mood board is the result from that. Also major credit to her for the song below which fits the mood perfectly for how this is shaping up to be.

Figured I'd drop it here to make sure I won't overthink it too much and will just get it written & ready to post. Particularly because of the encouraging reactions from everybody this morning. Please mind this is still a very rough draft without any editing! Not sure what this will be called, so I'm rolling with a working title for now. Gifs by @arcanefox207 , first line courtesy of @morallyinept.

----------------------------------

I Fought The Law (And The Law Won) - WIP snippet #1

Detective Tim Rockford x f!reader x Javier Peña

“That will teach you to run your fuckin’ mouth at me, Agent”, Rockford hisses. His hand is on Javier’s throat, the other one cupping him through his jeans as he holds him pinned against the wall. “Mind your manners. Brat.”

Javier fumes at him, attempting to push back, but Tim doesn’t only have a good ten years on him - he’s also broader, an inch or two taller and, as it seems, stronger. Which shouldn’t be a turn on, Javier thinks to himself, but his dick appears to have different ideas about that.

The slow smile spreading over Tim’s face makes it clear he notices it, too. He leans over, his dark brown eyes admiring the splay of his long fingers over Javier’s throat. The smile turns into an arrogant smirk when he feels the DEA agent swallow hard, almost gasp for air.

“Why am I not surprised?”, he says softly in a low sing-song voice, his breath warm and ghosting over the curve of Javier’s ear. When there’s no response, he moves his hand up to tilt Javier’s chin, making his head tips back against the wall, eyes meeting. “The brat tamer really wants to be tamed himself.”

Javier closes his eyes, his mind cloudy as he tries to figure out how the tables got flipped on him so fast. Fuck. “You talk a lot of shit, Rockford,” he eventually manages as he shakes his head, but he knows how weak of a retort it is as the words leave his lips. He can’t open his eyes yet - can’t make himself meet Tim's intense look again. Not when it takes up all his effort to resist thrusting against the large hand that's gripping his dick.

NEXT: WIP Snippet #2 right here

If you can't listen to the track, here are the lyrics;

Don't worry I'm not looking at you Gorgeous and dressed in blue Don't worry I'm not looking at you

I know you see me see you As you see me walk on past

------------------------------------------

FYI @sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @libellule2001 @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @alwaysmicado

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist when I put up the entire fic, just drop a comment and let me know!

[pedrostylez]

Something Else - pt. 9

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Frankie and team make it to South America, and you're worried at home

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 5.2k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, ptsd, smut, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, p in v (unprotected), mentions of shower sex, phone sex, mentions of spanking but it doesn’t happen, uhhhhhh I think that’s it

A/N: Hi! This is the last part of Something Else and this main story. I wanted to thank those who have read this and stuck along with me. Once again, a huge and massive shout out to Hemmy, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta reading and is just being so fucking lovely. I love these characters so very much, and Frankie is my ride or die so...if you haven't already seen it, I have started another Frankie fic that also includes Javier Pena with less sweet themes. Read the warnings before proceeding on that fic, but if you want another...it's there! There is no taglist for that fic at this time.

Anyways, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all. There is this lovely little arrow at the top left when you start reading that if you don’t like it anymore, you can click on it to stop reading. However, I am a slut for respectful comments, thoughts, and questions, so feel free to send those to me either privately or on ask. Please support all fanfic writers by liking, reblogging, and interacting. Thank you! 

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos @borhapparker @missladym1981 @guelyury @southernbe

It’s been three days of flying.

Frankie has endured without you, and plans to keep it up. He can do this; everything is in place. You’re safe, his friends are safe behind him, and the Andes in front of him makes him think of you. 

The way the sun rises over the peak makes him remember how your eyes look in the morning light. How you smile sleepily at him before snuggling closer, drifting back off into peaceful sleep that he wishes he could accompany you in. 

He doesn’t know that you’ve got dark circles around your eyes now that he’s been gone. 

He doesn’t know that you’ve been wringing his hat before you go to sleep, somehow finding unconsciousness with a death grip on the bill of his hat. 

He doesn’t know that you’ve been waking up in the night right when he is settling the crew on a flat plateau to rest, worried that he is still safe. 

They’re so close to the money that Santiago has pulled out his shovel to be ready at a moment's notice. He slid the confirmed coordinates over to Frankie after you left the hangar, nodding silently when Frankie reviewed them again and estimated a time. 

Just a few more days and they would be on their way home. 

After the fourth day, a knock came to your door with Anna holding bags of food behind it. “I thought you would need some company?” She shrugs, eyeing you cautiously. 

She’s hesitant, stepping quietly into your space and slipping off her shoes before pulling out all of the takeout she had purchased onto your counter. 

You hugged her, both of you sniffling and crying messes once you had settled on the couch. “I just want them to be safe.” You confess, deflating into the cushions and pushing your chin towards your chest.

Anna is silent, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “Frankie will be okay, honey.”

You look at her, noticing her own dark circles. Her lashes are saturated in tears, welling over when she notices you looking. “Santiago will be okay too, Annie.” You say in a hushed tone. 

She gasps, tilting her chin down to try and hide. “He’s better off without me.” She whispers, shaking her head. “It’s been months. Almost a year since we split, I shouldn’t be crying about this.”

You grasp her hand tightly. “Don’t say that.” 

She hiccups. “No. I-I fucked up…he was so upset with me when we broke up. For how I treated you–”

“Me?” You ask, confused and taken aback. “You’ve been working on it-on yourself.” You say quietly. You hadn’t been told by anyone the specifics-only that Santiago had broken up with Anna, and that your friend had been struggling with it for a while. You wondered briefly if she was hiding the reason to spare your guilt. 

She nods, shrugging. “He didn’t like how I was treating you and our friendship and he was already wanting to take a break anyways.” She fumbles out, shaking her hands to try and swipe away the conversation. “I’m sorry. No-it's done. It’s fine, I’m not worried.”

You wait, let her recollect herself before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You’re allowed to be worried.”

You knew deep down, that Anna wasn’t over Santiago; that she wouldn’t be for a while. How she had turned into herself, changing her behaviors and becoming more considerate as the weeks went on as she did what she said she would; work on herself. 

Anna nods, wiping at her face before sighing. “They’ll come back.” She blinks back more tears before leaning forward. “God, let’s eat our emotions.”

Frankie lands the helicopter, silent among the rest of the darkness surrounding him before turning around in his seat to look at his crew. Bundled up, in sleeping bags reminding him of the one summer he was forced to go to camp. 

He stood, stretching his neck before flicking on the lights. He could feel the helicopter rock as the blades slowed. “We’re here, boys.”

Benny tilted his head backwards, blinking slowly. He must have been in a dead sleep. “You’re sure?”

Frankie glanced down to the back of his hand where he wrote the coordinates in permanent marker. “Yeah, at least to the coordinates.”

Benny yawns, elbowing Will roughly to get him out of slumber. “Rise and shine, we’ve made it.”

Santiago is already out of his sleeping bag, tossing it on one of the jump seats and zipping up his jacket. His eyes find Frankie’s, bright as if he hadn’t slept at all. “Can you aim the lights in to the ditch there? It’s going to be down there.”

Frankie nods, shrugging to himself. He finds himself back in his seat, flicking on the exterior lights that they hadn’t touched most of the way here. 

Pope has already jumped out, grunting as his knees crack with the jump before turning toward the crack in the snow, reaching for their collapsible ladder. “How much of your cut do you want to bet that it’s still here, Will?” He calls, smiling as Will groans. 

“None of it, Pope.” Will calls back, zipping up his jacket. “You sure it’s there?”

Pope calls back, something mumbled as Frankie steps out with his own shovel to help. He watches as Pope hikes up the hill to the pit, tossing the ladder over, securing it in place with weights and hooks before beginning the dissent down. They watch him, lights from the helicopters dimming the farther down he goes before they hear an excited call. 

Frankie shakes his head with a laugh. “Let’s get to climbing boys.” 

An hour. 

That’s all it took for them to become rich. 

If Frankie had known it would only be an hour, he might have planned less. 

The smile on Pope’s face as his shovel pierced through a layer of ice, the knowing thud of a solid suitcase filled, shining among the rising light of the new day. “What did I say?” He asked excitedly, pulling his shovel away to look down. “Boys!”

Frankie let out a relieved laugh, pulling at the duffles they see that are easily accessible, as Will and Benny started to hoot and holler for joy. 

Frankie felt tears prick the back of his eyes, the relief washing over him like a hot shower on a cold morning. He groans, reaching with a gloved hand and pulling free another duffle. He sits roughly, pulling back the zipper and struggles as it has rusted shut. 

When it tears open, familiar stacks of cash greet him, spilling out into the snow. He smiles, wiping at his eyes and adjusting his hat. “Holy fuck.”

He looks up to see everyone has stopped, watching him reveal what is inside the duffle. A sigh filters through Pope’s mouth, shaking his head and shrugging. “We did it.”

Frankie blinks, shaking himself to try and refocus. All he can think about is you, and whether or not you would be happy for them like he is. “Benny, you climb back up to the top. Will, you hang out in the middle. Let’s start tossing these up.”

“All of them?” Santiago asks, eyes on Frankie. 

Frankie takes a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah, Pope. All of them.”

2 Days Later

Your phone rings, blindly reaching for it in the night and pressing it to your ear. “Hello?” You groan, reaching with your other hand for the blanket, pulling it higher over your chin. 

You hear your name crackling through the speaker, quiet and delayed. “Are you there hermosa? Do you hear me?”

You sit up straight, eyes popping open into the pitch black of your room. You swallow roughly, fingers clenching at the duvet tighter. Fear chills you, suddenly petrified that something is wrong. “Are you alright?”

A chuckle. “Yes, yes baby. I’m calling because we are ahead of schedule. I’ll be at the hangar tomorrow evening.” He says loudly, noise in the background filtering through to your ear.

You gasp, breath stuttering through your lungs as you feel tears well up your eyes. “By a whole week?”

“Don’t say you wish I would take the whole two weeks.” He grumbles, shushing your worried rebuttal. “I love you.” You hear him laugh out, hollering behind him before it gets quiet. “We just finished eating, and I had to call you. Wanted to hear you.”

Tears are streaming down your face, the collar of your shirt wet with relief. “I’ve missed you so much.” You gasp, reaching for his hat beside you, stroking the velcro strap. 

“I’ve missed you too. Everything alright there?” He’s standing out on the balcony of the hotel they found and booked for the night. Cash was handed over to their contact with no questions, no names. They should be seeing the money roll in from an LLC starting on Monday. He feels the weight of the world sliding off his shoulders as he hears you breathe.

You sigh, leaning your head back against the headboard. “Yes, yes of course.” You feel your body relax against the pillows, exhausted again and on the verge of drowning in the tears that won’t stop. 

It feels both like hours and minutes speaking to him. He tells you how there were no issues; how Santiago was the first to jump out of the helicopter with his snow shovel ready. How Benny laughed with every duffle bag he caught, how Will looked to Frankie exclusively for direction. 

Frankie sighs happily, sitting on a patio chair and propping his legs up on the guardrail. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”

“You want me there?” You question, biting at your thumbnail.

“Of course I do.” He laughs, scratching at the back of his head and feeling his spare hat adjust on his head. He can’t help it when he asks, “Did you keep my cap safe?”

You look over to the hat, still rubbing your fingers over the fabric. It’s almost ragged, and you swear your thumb mark will be permanently imprinted on the back. You scoff, “I’m staring at it. Looks pretty safe to me.”

He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. “What are you wearing bebita?” He lowers his voice, biting the inside of his cheek as he waits for your reaction.

You gasp, wishing he was with you to hit his arm. “That is not your concern!”

Frankie decides to spur you on. “What I wouldn’t give to see you in just that hat.” He groans, laughing half heartedly when you gasp again and scold him. 

“I was worried you died Francisco, and you’re just a horn-dog.” You grumble, crossing your arm over your chest. 

Frankie lets you settle before turning to look over his shoulder. The boys have found their respective sleeping arrangements, leaving Frankie the couch with blankets piled high. He’s alone, as far as he’s concerned. 

He sighs, clicking his tongue as he decides to head into this full force. “Give me something to work with baby, I’ve missed you so much.” He says quietly, almost a growl that gives you shivers through the phone. 

You attempt to lie. “Just my underwear, Frankie.”

“Quit that.” He bites, shifting in his chair. “Tell me, really.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Sweatpants…your shirt you left here a couple weeks ago.”

He hums, happy with the answer. He closes his eyes and listens to your breathing for a moment, imagining how you’re shifting under the covers to see what he might say next. “I want to listen to you touching yourself.”

You gasp teasingly, trailing a hand down over his shirt you’re wearing. “Oh do you?”

“Yes.” He groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. 

“Are you alone?” You ask quietly, hesitant to go along with what he’s saying until you know. 

“You want me to be?” He teases, turning his head a final time before deciding it is fine. “I’m on a balcony, looking out on the water. They’re all asleep in bedrooms, away from me.”

You hum, letting your fingertips ghost under the hem of your sweatpants. “I miss you.” You sigh, closing your eyes trying to imagine what he looks like now. A whole week has passed, and he likely hasn’t done anything more than shower once they booked this hotel. His beard has grown out, scruffy from what you can tell when he scratches at his chin through the phone. 

He groans again, palming himself through his cargo pants. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” You lit, smiling at the sound of his agreement. Needy, wanting. “What are you going to do when you see me?”

He laughs, shaking his head. He knows he’ll cry, probably–like a baby. “It’s not when I see you, cariño, it’s when I get you alone.”

Your breath catches, biting your lip. “What will you do when we are alone, then?”

He waits, squeezing himself as he hears the ruffling of your blankets, the shift and sigh as your hand cups your center over your underwear. “I’ve been thinking about getting you bent over my knee while I’ve been on this trip.” He confesses, swallowing as he hears you gasp again. “In nothing but maybe that one pair of underwear? With the flowers?” You hum in agreement. “Have you squirming over my knee, begging for it.”

“I’m not one to beg.” You giggle, pressing your finger against your clit and hissing at the dull throb you feel through the fabric. 

“I would disagree.” His fingers unbutton his pants, slowly sliding his hand over his briefs to cup himself. His hand is cool against the heat of his body, making him jump. 

“You think so?” You tease yourself, swirling a finger around your clit still over the fabric. “You think I’ll say ‘please Frankie, spank me’?”

Frankie shuts his eyes, listening to your breath hitch. “What are you doing?”

“Touching myself, like you asked.” You say matter-of-factly.

He shakes his head, squeezing himself again. “I’ll have you begging tomorrow.” He glances down to see the front of his briefs have a small wet spot where he’s started to make a mess. “You won’t be begging me to make your ass red though, querida.”

You send a questioning hum, pulling your hand away to slide them against your skin instead. 

“You’ll be begging me to fuck you.” Frankie growls, swiping his thumb over his weeping head as he’s watched you do before, closing his eyes when he hears your sigh of agreement. “I’ll have you over my knee so I can play with you, so I can tease you until you are begging for me to fuck you.”

You shift on the mattress, tapping a finger at your entrance before pushing as far as you can into yourself. “Frankie?” You say breathily, listening to his own breath come quickly.

The distinct sound of his hand working over himself comes to your ears. “Fuck, I love you.” Tumbles out of him. “What is it, baby?”

You feel yourself smile, imagining him. “Please, fuck me.” You beg quietly, holding back another giggle at the sound of his breath stuttering. 

“That’s right baby.” He adjusts in the chair, glancing over his shoulder once more before letting himself lean back and look at himself. His hand wrapped around the base, two quick strokes to calm himself down. “Told you you’d beg for me.”

You don’t have the ability to disagree, circling your clit again as a groan reaches your ears. “Please, Francisco.”

“Fuck.” He barks, moving his hand faster. “I promise. I will. T-tomorrow, I’m all yours. Anything you want.”

Blood rushes to his head and to his cock as he hears your breath catch, the sudden moan reaching his ears spurring on his own orgasm. He feels like he’s melting at the sounds you make, the whimpers that your phone is able to pick up.

Your head clears of the foggy lust, pulling your pants back up over your hips where it drooped, snuggling further into your bed. “I love you.” You squeak, blushing from what you just did together. 

Frankie laughs, not bothering to button his pants back up. He sighs, looking out to the water. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, hermosa.”

“Tomorrow.”

You’re anxious, sitting in his truck with the air blasting into your face to keep you cool. It has been hot today-overly so. You don’t know exactly what time Frankie meant by afternoon, so you’ve been here since 12:01 with the hopes that Frankie will return in one piece. 

You had stopped at Berto and Alma’s, picking up large amounts of empanadas that Alma had insisted on making for all of them. 

She gave you three large containers, noting which ones were spiced more heavily than the others for the sake of Ben and Will’s palate. 

When she handed you the third, arguing with you for a moment about whether or not it was too much, she finally admitted “The third is for you and Francisco only. Don’t tell Santi, he will be jealous that I have a favorite.”

You had laughed, nodding your head and promising to keep it a secret before making your way over to the hangar. 

Now sitting in Frankie’s truck, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel and feeling sweat drip down your back in the afternoon sun, you wonder if you’re too anxious. 

After a couple hours you shake your head at yourself, stepping into the hangar and waving at the workers that were prepping for their arrival and setting out the two containers of food. You ask quietly if there’s a time that they are to be expected, but skitter back out to Frankie’s truck when they give you a half hearted shrug. 

By the time the sun is settling, you’ve rolled down the windows and are hanging out of them, trying to catch the breeze that just won’t come. You know now that you most certainly came too soon, holding back frustrated tears as you step out of the truck and slam the door. 

Standing must be better than sitting at this point, right?

You hear the whirling sound of the helicopter blades suddenly, making you squint up at the sky to see if you are imagining it. You’ve convinced yourself that you are imagining it, until you see a speck in the sky that resembles Big Mama. 

It feels too long with how time passes with your head facing upward at the sky, the speck becoming larger and larger until you feel the wind push against your face. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you watch the helicopter land smoothly, and howl of excitement once the engine is shut off, the blades slowing. You watch Will step out, waving at you before beelining it for the hangar.

Benny is next to step out, throwing a duffle bag into the hangar’s open garage door, waiting for their arrival. He speaks to the owner, quietly asking them to take care of putting the helicopter away. 

When Santiago steps out his darkened eyes are not as prominent, his smile wide as he spots you. He gives a small nod, following Will’s tracks to the folding table where you had set out food. 

You hold your breath until you see Frankie, his eyes searching for you the minute he steps out. He smiles, wide and inviting as his arms follow suit. Suddenly you’re running at him, listening to his surprised laugh and grunt as he catches you. 

You’re sure tears are soaking his shirt, but he pulls you tighter against him. “Hi, cariño.”

“Hi,” Is your watery reply, shuffling back and pressing your hands into his arms. “You’re not hurt?”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “No, baby. I’m alright.” He cups your chin, pulling your lips to his briefly. He smiles into your lips, the faint sound of excited calls from the hangar barely reaches your ears as he wraps an arm around waist and turns you both to walk. 

He pinches your side as he walks with you, burying his face into your neck and inhaling deeply. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

You smile, blushing wildly. “Berto and Alma–”

“Let’s just go home.” He says again, pupils blown wide. He feels desperate to have you alone, being teased by his friends that you would be waiting for him naked at home. Even when he had said that you would be waiting to see all of them, they had scoffed, knowing better. 

He saw you know and knew better too. 

He’s walking to the truck, opening the passenger door and letting you slide in before giving a short wave to the open door of the hangar, ignoring any questions the others may have. 

“Food’s over here, Fish!” Benny calls, mouth full. 

“Nah man, you know where he’s going.” Will mumbles out just loud enough for Frankie to hear before he’s hopping in the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t give them a second glance, starting the engine and pulling away and down the dirt road before his hand reaches to hold your knee. He comes in contact with a container, glancing at it before at you. “What’s that?”

“Berto and Alma made you a specific box of food.” You say quietly, watching the smile spread across his face. “Alma said you’re her favorite.”

He lets you pop open the top, the smell of spices reaches his nose so quickly that he can’t help but take an empanada in his hand and take a bite. Frankie groans at the taste, pulling onto the main road and heading for his apartment. “What did you do? While I was away?”

You laugh. “Moped around, mostly.” 

He flicks his gaze to yours at a red light, finishing the empanada and reaching for your knee. “What did you get for groceries? Did you use my card like I asked?”

You nod, flipping open the container and grabbing something to eat for yourself. “I did. Made fried rice a few times, lots of chicken caesar salads,” You trail off, taking a bite and humming to yourself. “I tried going to Berto and Alma’s a few times but they wouldn’t let me pay.”

Frankie smirks at that, squeezing your knee and pulling away from the intersection. He feels satisfaction settle in his stomach at the thought that you had been taken care of, even when you had tried to pay. “Good.” He nods, hearing you laugh. 

When he pulls up to his apartment, he’s quick to get you out of the passenger seat, waiting for you to unlock the front door impatiently. His hands have a mind of their own, sliding down your sides and squeezing at your ass as you try to shoo him away. “I’m trying to unlock the door, Morales–”

“I know. I can’t help it. Where did you get these jeans?” He questions, tapping you lightly and smiling when you scoff. 

“I’ve had them.”

“You wearing anything under there? Let me see–”

You bat his hand away, pointing at him to get him like scolding a child. “Let’s be inside for you to do that!”

“But I want to see now, hermosa. You’re so gorgeous when you walk in front of me, have I not said that before?”

“No.” You laugh to yourself, pushing open the door and tossing the keys on the shelf.

“Hmm.” Frankie’s eyes follow your figure, watching as you set the food on the coffee table. “I should have.”

He tumbles in after you, shutting the door with his foot and reaching for you. “God, how you look when you bend over like that?”

“I thought you wanted to bend me over?” You tease, fluttering your lashes at him.

His pupils go wide, shaking his head mostly to himself. “I can’t right now.” He confesses, unbuttoning his pants. “After last night I need to taste you.”

You go to stop him, but see how quickly he is kicking off his boots, how quickly his pants are disappearing. “Why don’t we shower–”

He groans, hands clasping at your waist and landing on the carpet with his knees. “Let me see.”

“Frankie–”

You gasp when his mouth attaches to your stomach, soft and gentle while his fingers work quickly at the button. The way he pulls at your jeans has you reaching to steady yourself on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. 

He sighs happily when he sees you did what you were told; those blue panties with the tiny flowers gracing his vision. He leans back to pull off his shirt, hat flying with it before pressing his mouth lower over your underwear. 

“So fucking pretty.” He whispers, hands traveling to your ass and squeezing at the flesh there. 

He hears you squeak in surprise, your nails digging into his shoulders and hair at the back of his head. He guides you backwards, shuffling forward until you’re able to lay on the couch fully, ass hanging over the edge. 

“Hold on.” He instructs with a smirk, moving your hands to the edge of the cushions before he leans forward and starts mouthing at your clit through the fabric of your underwear. 

The swirl of his tongue is intoxicating, your eyes rolling back in bliss and a moan bubbling out of you. You feel him chuckle, the vibrations causing you to buck your hips up toward his mouth. “Frankie–fuck–”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to wait.” Frankie confesses, bringing large doe eyes up to your face as he slides a finger over your center through your underwear. 

He slides your underwear down your legs, wrapping them tightly around your ankles and using them as leverage to lift and maneuver your legs however he wants. You let out a laugh of shock of how he moves your legs to the side, letting you legs press together but shining from your own slick, on display for him. 

“Please, baby.” You whine, trying to adjust yourself to be more supported, still hanging off the couch. 

Frankie’s face is red, mouth hanging open as he watches you squirm after barely touching you. He holds your ankles firm, his other hand coming down and gliding two fingers through your folds before letting one finger press into you. 

You sigh, throwing your head back again and whining for him. “All for me?” He asks, adding a second finger. 

You nod quickly, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bleeding. “Yes, all for you.”

Frankie hums in approval, removing his fingers and covering himself in your arousal before pressing himself slowly into you. “Gunna fill your sweet pussy up.” He growls, keeping himself restrained, sliding himself in until his abdomen is pressed against your thigh. 

He feels your leg shaking against him, flicking his eyes up to your wrecked face before he smiles. He pulls back just as slowly, watching you open your eyes to watch him before thrusting in heavily. 

Your moans spur him on, grunting in unison with you. His eyes are locked on yours, unable to look away as he feels you tighten around him. “Wanna come for me?” He asks, releasing your underwear wrapped ankles and changing positions so that he can lay his body against yours. 

His fingers come up to hold your jaw, pressing a kiss to your lips and encouraging you. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

You come under his touch, skin hot to the touch and slick with exertion. A moment more for you to come back down to earth, watching as he pulls out and finishes over your stomach. Ropes of his orgasm covering you, shirt pushed up and just barely missing the hem. 

He takes a deep breath, look at you for a moment before leaning into you and his own mess and pressing kisses to your face. “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips, smiling when you laugh. 

“I love you too.” You sigh, sitting up with his help and taking a deep breath. “Let’s shower?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His own sparkle back at you, a knowing smirk rising on his face. “Yeah.”

Showering to Frankie meant pressing into you again, holding you up against the wall and covering your neck in marks. He was determined to ignore all outside distractions, stopping at the fridge to get you both a drink in between sessions that he swore would leave him exhausted. 

You both would doze in and out of sleep, awoken to each other's touch an hour or so later to do it all again. 

Now he lays next to you, his arm around your shoulder as you tuck yourself into his neck, looking around his room. Your clothes folded on the dresser next to a travel bag of jewelry, a pair of slippers tucked under the night stand.

You had jackets hanging up at his door when you first walked in, and dishes soaked in the sink. Your preferred drink sat happily in the fridge next to his own, your kitchen towels hanging from the oven’s handle. 

“When does your lease end?” Frankie asks quietly, staring at your pair of underwear that is peeking out of the top drawer of his dresser. He remembered teasingly asking you to store some of your clothes here so that you didn’t have to rush from his place whenever you spent the night. 

“A couple months.” You yawn. You swirl your fingers from his chest to his belly button and back up, blissfully unaware of his eyes flicking around to all your items. 

He hums, taking a deep breath as a second of anxiety shoots through him. “Have you renewed the lease yet?”

You shake your head. “No, but I will need to soon.” You pause, moving your head to look up at him. “Why?”

Only a second more, and Frankie’s eyes are on yours. “I don’t think you should.” He whispers, watching for a reaction. He swears you can hear his heartbeat beating out of his chest. 

You give him a shy smile, overheating and laughing. “So, the street it is then?”

He pinches you, letting you giggle before pushing his face into your hair as if he is hiding. He takes another deep breath, inhaling your shampoo. “Move in with me?”

He feels your pause in breathing, your attempt to not stiffen in his hold. “Really?” You ask, furrowing your brow as he pulls away to look at you. 

Frankie brings his thumbs up to your brow, smoothing away the tension. “Yeah.” He breathes. “If you want to. I just…I don’t want to be without you.”

You nod, swallowing roughly. “I-I want to.” Frankie feels his heart swell with excitement. “But we are splitting rent.”

Frankie frowns, shaking his head. “I’ll let you buy groceries once and a while.”

“Frankie–”

Frankie cuts you off, “Hermosa, I just came into 20 million dollars. I want you to live with me. You don’t have to pay for anything.”

You gasp, freezing. “20 million?” Your voice is small, eyes wide and unbelieving. 

He watches you try to process, holding you firm in his hands before petting your hair back. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, suddenly feeling overly exposed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked–”

You press your hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “I’ll pay for groceries every week, Frankie.” 

He’s confused for a moment, watching a slow smile appear on your lips before a smile grows on his own. He pulls you close, peppering kissing over your face. “Whatever you want, baby.”

You laugh, settling back into his arms just as Frankie notices the sun peeking over buildings through his window. You begin to drift off into sleep, the sun painting the side of your face and arm as he had imagined while flying over the Andes. He smiles to himself, pulling you closer and shutting his eyes, relaxing when he remembers he doesn’t have to fly over those mountains ever again. 

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend update 05/05/2024

Hello! It’s been awhile since Nerdie has done one of these. 👀

Yes it has! Why have you only been lurking and popping up with random things?

Well, my smut fairy is playing hide and seek. Has been more hidden as of late. Inspiration has led to different fics than I planned on. And I’ve queued so many posts that my current queue is posting things up until June 5th. 😂

How does one even queue that many things? And what do you mean the smut fairy has been playing hide and seek? We read that Frankie series! And that Dieter update! Nerdie, stop trying to be coy, it doesn’t suit you dear.

I’m not sure how to respond to that. And yeah both of those had smut but it was….I did say the fairy was playing hide and seek. I did not say they were hidden the entire time. 🫣

Details, details. You also changed the title graphic color, why?

Stories are made by their details. Wise advice said by…some smart person somewhere. It reminds Nerdie of a bahama mama. It’s a drink that she enjoys like a pirate. Yohoho! 🏴‍☠️(I’m very sorry. 😣)

Anyway, thank you to the following lovely people who sent me beautiful person asks and who reached out when I was not doing so hot. I know better than to argue with any of you:

@rhoorl @yourcoolauntie @grogusmum @avastrasposts @megamindsecretlair

@westside-rot @laurfilijames @inept-the-magnificent @bitchwitch1981 @secretelephanttattoo

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @connectioneverywhere @604to647 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept

@yorksgirl @sweetercalypso @schnarfer @soft-persephone @maggiemayhemnj

@magpiepills @paulmescal-s @lotusbxtch @wannab-urs

As for Nerdie’s fic recommendations, they are here! She’s keeping track of them and is going to put the whole list out at the end of the month because, promoting fics is fun and means she can type more randomness. 😆

1. Torment Part 1 Fear by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x fem OC)

2. Tempered by the Fire by @ladamedusoif (Din Djarin x f reader)

3. Talk Dirty to Me by @morallyinept (Marcus Pike x fem reader)

4. Nightingale by @rosecentaur1916 (Miguel O’Hara x plus size fem reader)

5. Daffodil by @starstruckunknown-princess (Javi G. X reader)

6. Into the Deep End by @magpiepills (Joel Miller: the hole filler x AFAB reader)

7. your favorite kryptonite by @kedsandtubesocks (Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader)

8. Kings & Queens by @joels-shitty-puns (Joel Miller x reader)

9. Insatiable by @lowlights (Pero Tovar x fem reader)

10. Top Me, I deserve it by @for-a-longlongtime (Santiago Garcia x Francisco Morales)

11. Fifteen Minutes by @whocaresstillthelouvre (Din Djarin x fem reader)

12. Raining in Baltimore by @schnarfer (Marcus Pike x f reader)

Nerdie did post a bit this week. She’s mainly been posting on AO3 since it takes less time and she can slap things up there with reckless abandon (and sufficient tags).

Part VIII of Only Parts of you Mr. Morales (Frankie Morales) *completed*

The Intended determines their Meaning (Javier Gutierrez)

Sure inside, but will you stay for more after we’re done? Chapter 5 of Weddings 101 with Dieter (Dieter Bravo)

Lastly there are a few ongoing challenges and fun things. Make sure to read individual challenge rules and fun things.

1. Help Wanted: Summer Reading with @strang3lov3 They’re asking for self-recs, recs of fics that have stuck with you, fics that you think others should read. Send them your Pedro boy goods. The best kind of summer reading.

2. Jett’s Flora and Fauna Challenge by @morallyinept It’s the incomparable Jett! Making her own challenge to being your fics, art, Moodboards or all any combinations. It just has to have a Pedro character and flowers. Any length (because we like all kinds here) and can be as many submissions as you want.

3. Jamie’s Ocean Challenge by @mermaidgirl30 Pedro characters, the ocean, fun, fics and moodboards mixed together for this one. Again any length (all are welcome and enjoyed), must have a Pedro character and the ocean in your fic or Moodboard.

4. @pedroscouts The Pedro Scouts have descended upon us to give us badges (gotta collect ‘em all), fun tasks and general tomfoolery to make Tumblr fun! Make sure to read through the rules if you’d like to join.

5. May Drabble Challenge courtesy of the @dieterbravobrainrotclub It features our favorite Kit Kat lover Dieter Bravo and aliens 👽 with a meet-cute. 👀 Not weird enough for you? Then write it extra strange.

So that’s about it. There was a lot of ground to cover but we got it done. Nerdie is going to go see a man about a goat 🐐 and also another guy about some teasing or edging? Maybe it counts as edging. Nerdie is 🫤 unsure. She’s only wrote like one of these before. 😆 She also has to look for boots, maybe she’s gonna go to her second concert 🎵

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie! ❤️ ❤️❤️

[twobruhsinahottub]

“--How are your migraines?”

A Rafael Barba / Rita Calhoun one shot

"--How are your migraines?" She'd asked him, and he almost thought he could hear love peaking through the dripping sarcasm in her voice.

Or:

Rafael has a migraine, Rita is there

Tags:

Rating:

General Audiences

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Law & Order: SVU

Relationship:

Rafael Barba/Rita Calhoun

Characters:

Rafael BarbaRita Calhoun

Additional Tags:

Hurt/ComfortSick Rafael BarbaHeadaches & MigrainesAlternate Universe - Canon DivergencePost-DivorceHarvard UniversityRita and Rafael's Harvard daysand they were ROOMMATESThere Was Only One Beds17 e2 Criminal Pathology

Warnings: vomiting/nausea, abortion (both only briefly mentioned)

Fic:

"--How are your migraines?" She'd asked him, and he almost thought he could hear love peaking through the dripping sarcasm in her voice. God he hated her. That's what made her so perfect. Rita and Rafael. Enemies from heaven. Soulmates from hell. They had met at opening day at Harvard many years ago now, and it was love/hate at first sight. Rita was the only one in any of his classes to give him a real run for his money, and soon enough the two were sharing a tiny one bedroom apartment 15 minutes away from campus. The arrangement was for them to take turns, with one in the bedroom and the other on the couch, just until they could afford a bigger place. That was never going to last though, with both of them complaining so much when it was their week on the couch that they finally gave in a shared the double bed that took up almost the entire bedroom. It wasn't long before other friends caught on, nagging them about whether they were really just friends, or if something more was going on, because well, they did share a bed after all. Rita was there for him when they first got bad. He'd had migraines since his early teens, but they were always manageable with a few painkillers and a good day's rest. It wasn't until his third year of college that they really got bad. When they began knocking him out for three days straight and he'd have no memory of anything leading up to it. The first time it happened he thought that was it. He was dying. But no, just a bad migraine the ER nurse had told him, after Rita had taken him to the hospital, also thinking he was on death's door. He spent the rest of that night sobbing in between bouts of nausea and vomiting, and begging to sink into the floor and make it all stop. Rita held him that night, rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words while she ran her hand through his soft brown hair. Rafael often thought back to that night and how lucky he was to be loved by her, to see that soft, loving side to a woman who is usually so cold and borderline cruel. They spent many more days and nights like that over the course of their friendship, and eventual marriage. Rafael, a heap of tears and pain on the floor and Rita holding him and muttering sweet nothings to him in an attempt to make it all easier. He missed that, especially on days like this. While Rita had clearly been joking, trying to get a rise out of him as she often did, Rafael had a feeling she could see the signs. The aura he had felt that morning should have been a sign to take the day off, but of course, Rafael never took a day off work, ever, and especially not during a case like this. As he looked over the headlines on the papers his ex wife had dumped on his desk he felt the throbbing behind his left eye get worse. Despite taking medication for it before he left for work, the migraine kept getting stronger the longer the day went on. Rafael checked his watch. It hadn't been long enough yet for another dose of codeine, and really, he shouldn't even be taking this much, it probably made the migraines worse rather than better. Without thinking, he raised a hand to his forehead, a vain attempt at soothing the now almost unbearable pain. Rita of course noticed this.

“Hm” she acknowledged "the case really is worsening them, huh? What a shame it would be if someone were to use that to their advantage in court.”

The sarcastic comment earned her a glare from the prosecutor, and she backed off slightly.

“Really that bad?” She asked, sounding almost sympathetic.

“Mm” Rafael managed to get out, the pain now at a level that would have once had him out for days, luckily though, after decades of pain like this, he had learnt to push through. He knew Rita wouldn't drop it though. Her once snarky expression now replaced with genuine concern. No matter how hard either of them tried, despite their work killing their once happy marriage, they could not for the life of them manage to suppress the undying love they had for one another.

Now, Rafael noticed, Rita was making her way around to Rafael's side of the desk, gently dragging a chair along with her. She placed the chair next to him, and before sitting down, she strode purposefully across the room to close the blinds, knowing from years of dealing with Rafael's migraines that letting in unnecessary light was possibly the worst thing one could do at this moment. On her way back to her seat, Rita also shut off the overhead lights, and watched as Rafael noticeably sighed with relief. She knew it wasn't much, and his pain was still clearly bad, but the darkness would help. Rita sat in the chair next to her ex husband, and gently placed a hand on his back, and subconsciously, she began rubbing circles, just as she used to back in their college days. She hated to admit it, but she did truly love the man, and she knew he felt the same. If only their ambitions hadn't taken priority, and if only they hadn't let work destroy their relationship. Perhaps if Rita hadn't had the abortion those years ago they would be a happy family of three, or even more, right now. Instead of bickering over cases and plea deals they could be bickering over who would do the dishes that night, and ultimately settle on making the kid (or kids) do it instead. Thinking of this imaginary argument and family that she would likely never have, Rita placed her free hand under Rafael's chin, lifting his face to meet hers. The two met eyes, and against both of their better judgments, they leant forward, locking into a tired, but gentle, kiss. As the kiss depended, for just a moment Rafael's pain felt as though it lifted.l, and Rita felt as though that distant dream of being an old married couple with the man she had loved since day one of college, wasn't so distant after all.

[nyaightlight]

My Edits

As of now (April 2024) I’ll be uploading the listed edits. Most are completed but I don’t want to spam my page (too much), so I’ll be posting them gradually

The order for unposted edits is not definite, so as they’re posted I’ll update this masterpost to match (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Also, if there’s any y’all really want to see, you can send an ask and I may upload it sooner 😊

Fandoms: House of the Dragon, The Haunting of Bly Manor, Jujutsu Kaisen, Wind Breaker

Edits listed under the cut ⬇️

House of the Dragon

Better Than Revenge - Rhaenyra & anti-Alicent

Hush Little Baby - Daemon being protective of Lucerys, anti-Aemond

Last Kiss - Lucerys & Rhaenyra

Still/The Neva Flows - Rhaenyra & Aegon, a summary of the Dance of Dragons

Good Kid - Lucerys’ struggles through life and his demise

Fancy - Otto implementing Alicent’s fate as Viserys’ queen and Alicent continuing the cycle with Aegon

Murder Ballad - Rhaenyra, Aegon, Lucerys, Aemond

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Damie - Jamie & Dani

Jujutsu Kaisen

A Night to Remember - The Shibuya Incident

Too Sweet - Nanaita

A Match Into Water - Nobara & Yuuji

Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Sukuna

Midnight Rain / Daylight - Goyuu & past stsg

Mother Knows Best - Kenjaku & Yuuji

My Love is Sick - Satoru and his relationship with Yuuji & Suguru, ch. 236

Doomed - Gojo

All You Had to do Was Stay - Maki & Mai

Smooth Criminal - Nobara vs. Mahito

Thriller - Gojo on Halloween night

Haunted - Yuuji & Nanami

Work Song - Goyuu

Eleanor Rigby - Riko

Flowers - Nobara & Yuuji

It’s Tough to Be a God - Satoru

Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene - JJK women

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay - Nanami’s last moments

Two Birds - Nobara & Yuuji

Cold as Ice - Uraume

Locked Away - Goyuu

Lonely Ones - Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara & Satoru, Suguru, Shoko

Loved and Lost - Yuuji and Junpei, Nanami, Nobara

Best Friend - F in the chat for Suguru

I Have Questions pt. 1 - Satoru and Toji, Suguru, Kenjaku

I Have Questions pt. 2 - Satoru & Suguru

Driver’s Seat - Megumi & Toji

No Longer You - Yuuji ft. Goyuu

Monster - Yuuji

So Long, London - Satoru & Suguru

Haymaker - Maki & Mai

Little Wolf - Yuuji & Nobara vs Mahito

Wind Breaker

Wonderland - Togasaku

Don’t Blame Me - Suonirei

Belong Together - Suonirei

Choose Your Fighter - Tsubaki

Like a Prayer - Hiikaji

Pink Pony Club - Tsubaki

[notjustjavierpena]

you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

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A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

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

Tags:  +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

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The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days. 

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl. 

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice. 

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance. 

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.” 

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him. 

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.” 

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo. 

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen. 

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the  familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear. 

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply. 

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face. 

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight. 

“Where are the rascals?” He asks. 

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello. 

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you. 

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la  vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk. 

“That’s what I said,” she huffs. 

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm. 

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time. 

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.” 

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago. 

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says. 

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat. 

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!” 

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?” 

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly. 

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks. 

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles. 

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time,  chicos  (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed. 

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day. 

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth. 

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips. 

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while  she laughs and laughs. 

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too. 

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head. 

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—” 

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later. 

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment. 

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?” 

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip. 

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes. 

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room. 

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says. 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family. 

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on. 

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console. 

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go? 

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder. 

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).” 

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to. 

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand. 

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead. 

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like  leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile. 

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests. 

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed. 

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up. 

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch. 

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off. 

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring. 

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass. 

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well. 

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon. 

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically. 

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system. 

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it. 

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” He acts oblivious. 

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh. 

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.” 

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress. 

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter. 

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass. 

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed. 

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together. 

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk. 

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet. 

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body. 

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest. 

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked. 

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already. 

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs. 

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along. 

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits. 

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command. 

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?” 

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth. 

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and. 

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief. 

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough. 

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest. 

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved. 

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you. 

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back. 

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you. 

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable. 

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,��� you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again. 

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick. 

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it. 

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much. 

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.” 

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed. 

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit. 

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt. 

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give.  When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close. 

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily. 

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words. 

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says. 

You sit up at that, “What?” 

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you. 

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him. 

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you. 

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness. 

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips. 

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[tightjeansjavi]

suave

A/N: the Javier Peña brain rot is in full swing! Mans just deserves all the simple pleasures in life including face masks, a bath with his lover, and fresh fruit 🤍 thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for betaing and translating! You already know how much I adore you, cariño ;)

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: a glimpse of a self care evening with your boyfriend Javier Peña

Pairing | Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: domestic fluff, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, no age gap, intimacy, implied smut, Javier is in love, both the reader and Javier speak fluent Spanish, grumpy!javi, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Espero que tengas razón, querida - I hope you’re right, darling

Bésame, Javier - Kiss me, Javier

Te quiero, mi corazón - I love you, my heart.

Te quiero, Jav - I love you, Jav

¿De verdad tengo elección, hermosa? - Do I really have a choice, hermosa?

¿Te metes en la bañera conmigo, querida? - Are you going to join me in the tub, darling?

Mmm, paciencia, mi amor - Mhm. Patience, my love

¿Confías en mí, no? - You trust me, don’t you?

Pues claro que confío en ti, querida - Of course I trust you, darling

Relájate - Relax

¡Joder! Esto está más frío de lo que me esperava - Fuck! That is colder than I was expecting

Sí lo es, pero es un frío resfrecante, ¿no? - It is, but it’s a refreshing cold, no?

Eres tan preciosa, cariño. Pero esto huele raro, y hace cosquillas - You’re so beautiful, baby. But this stuff smells funny, and it tickles

Muy guapo, Javi - Very handsome, Jav

Muy americano - Very American

Juguetona - Tease

Te necesito, hermosa. Por favor. - Need you, gorgeous. Please

¿Me puedes leer un poco, amor - Will you read to me, lover?

Pero estás tan guapo con las gafas puestas, Jav - But you look so handsome in them, Jav

Y me los pongo sólo para ti, querida - And I wear them just for you, darling

Javier Peña almost never finds the time to relax. That is until you have something to say about it. Your boyfriend believes that self care comes in the shape of a bottle, lighter, and cigarette pack. Your definition of self care is vastly different, but Javier is always a good sport, even if he’s reluctant at first.

“Hermosa, I’m failing to understand how this shit that you wanna put on my face is supposed to be relaxing.” He grumbles and drags his hand through water being filled in the tub. He’s careful to not accidentally light himself on fire due to the surrounding candles that were lit for an added ambience.

“Javier, this ‘shit’ is relaxation in a jar, guapo.” You sit along the edge of the tub with the homemade face mask resting in your lap.

He looks over at you, a few wispy strands of hair fall over his face and you reach over to gently brush them away. He catches your hand gently and pressed his plush lips to the underside of your fingertips. The trimmed hairs on his mustache lightly tickles your skin. He chuckles, eyes meeting yours.

“Espero que tengas razón, querida.”

You smile softly at him as he affectionately kisses your fingertips. You lean in close, nose brushing against his and whisper, “Bésame, Javier.”

He gently guides your fingers to rest along his sharp jawline before he closes the short gap between you and kisses you sweetly. If Javier Peña didn’t have such a demanding job, he would spend all day kissing you like this.

When he pulls away you bring your finger to the tip of his nose and lightly boop it. His face scrunches inwards at your affection.

“Te quiero, mi corazón.”

He always makes a point to tell you that he loves you. It’s important to him, and everything that he believes in. You’re special to him, and if that means he has to put up with a bit of pampering just to see you smile? So be it.

“Te quiero, Jav.” You peck his lips once more before pulling away. “Ready for some self care?”

“¿De verdad tengo elección, hermosa?”

“No.” You grin.

Soon after your dashing DEA agent is stripped down and relaxing comfortably in the tub with his arms resting on either side of the smooth porcelain. The decor in your shared bathroom reflects both of your personalities. Bright, bold, yet comforting. You and Javier both share a deep love for houseplants so it comes as no surprise that your shared bathroom is like a mini version of the Colombian rainforest.

“¿Te metes en la bañera conmigo, querida?” He asks while watching you pull the hem of your shirt over your head.

“Mmm, paciencia, mi amor.”

He huffs at this and settles deeper into the warm water and surrounding bubbles.

Once you’re undressed, you gather up yours and Javi’s clothes and fold them in a neat pile on the closed toilet seat.

He lets out a relaxed hum when he’s finally graced by your familiar presence in the tub while you situate yourself between his strong thighs. You wrap your legs around his torso, your stomach lightly pressed against his as his arms loop around your waist, hands splayed against your lower back. His thumbs gently tracing patterns along your spine as you unscrew the cap on the face mask jar.

“It’s going to feel a bit cold at first, Jav. But I promise you that it’s nice and relaxing. “¿Confías en mí, no?”

“Pues claro que confío en ti, querida.”He nods with a smile tugging against his lips.

You kiss the corner of his mouth before dipping your fingers into the jar collecting a bit of the paste. “Good boy. Close your eyes, okay? Relájate.” You whisper.

Javi’s lashes flutter shut just as you begin to apply the mask to his skin. He makes a grumbled sound from how cold it feels. It’s refreshing, in a sense. But the DEA agent isn’t quite ready to admit that yet.

“¡Joder! Esto está más frío de lo que me esperava.” He hissed between his clenched teeth.

“Sí lo es, pero es un frío resfrecante, ¿no?”

He begrudgingly agrees.

You’re careful to make sure that none of the product accidentally gets into his mustache. He peeks an eye open to see just how focused you are on applying this mask, and his heart swells.

“Javier.” You playfully chide.“No mires.”

He chuckles and slowly lets his hands rest along your hips now and pulls you in closer.

“Eres tan preciosa,cariño. Pero esto huele raro, y hace cosquillas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his playful complaining and finish applying the mask. “Muy guapo, Javi.”

“Now it’s your turn to relax, hermosa.” He releases you from his gentle grip and takes the jar from your hands. He brings it up to his nose and takes a quick sniff, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

“Strawberries? Muy americano.” He teases.

“Says the man who sometimes uses my strawberry scented body wash.” You tease back.

He huffs at this, shaking his head as he looks at you. It’s in that moment that you wish you had a camera just so you could take a picture of him.

“Because it smells like you, querida.” He whispers and begins to gently apply the face mask. His touch is gentle, delicate and even though he tells you to close your eyes, you keep them open just so you can stare at his beautiful face.

While the face masks dry, you find yourself feeding Javier pieces of fruit that you cut up earlier. He makes a suggestive comment of wanting to eat you instead, but you decline and place another sliver of ripe mango between his perfect kissable lips. A bit of juice rolls down the corner of his lips and chin and before he can wipe it away, you lean in and playfully lick up the stray drops.

“Juguetona.” He mutters.

By the time Javier has gotten his fill of fruit, the masks are completely dry and you both gently begin to wash them off. Once your skin is bare, he wastes no time with molding his lips against yours while your arms drape around his neck, fingers sliding through the back of his hair.

“Te necesito, hermosa. Por favor.” He pants softly against your lips.

So, you let him have you.

You don’t think you’ve ever loved a man more than you love Javier Peña when he insists on getting out of the tub first just so he can wrap you up in a towel. He even lets you apply moisturizer to his face before you find yourselves in bed at last.

He’s having his bedtime cigarette while you’re reading your book with your head resting comfortably against his chest.

“Jav?” You ask softly.

“Yes, querida?” He tilts his chin down so he can look at you and blows the smoke off to the side.

“¿Me puedes leer un poco, amor?”

He’s already reaching for your book and gently plucking it from your hands. He knows how much you love his voice, and he’s happy to oblige. He however, hates his reading glasses with a passion, and thinks he looks silly in them. But for you, he’ll do anything to make you happy.

“Hate the way these silly things look on my face.” He huffs as he adjusts his reading glasses on his face.

“Pero estás tan guapo con las gafas puestas, Jav.”

He finishes off his cigarette and douses it in the bedside ashtray before his attention focuses on you once more. His freehand drops down to your face, cupping your jaw gently as he leans down. He kisses you sweetly as his thumb brushes across your cheekbone.

“Y me los pongo sólo para ti, querida.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic notifications and updates!

[yeastinfectionvale]

Thank you for the tag @carlosheinz @darlingnemesis @formulapookie for the tag

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your url and tag that many people (if you can)

Y - Yaar Anmulle (Radio Edit) - Sharry Mann

E - Etruria - Synaulia

A - Angel of Small Death & The Codeine Scene - Hozier

S - SLUT ME OUT 2 - NLE Choppa

T - Tharti Hildi Desi Mix - Angrej Ali, Aman Hayer

I - Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

N - Nasha (Equals Sessions) - Faridkot, Amar Jalal

F - Fallin' - Alicia Keys

E - El Alma Que Te Trajo - Safety Trance, Arca

C - Chasing The Sun - The Wanted

T - Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

I - I'm Outta Love - Anastacia

O - Oh Que Sera?, Willie Colon

N - No Excuses - Bru-C

V - Vapour - 5 Seconds of Summer

A - Act!ve - Calso

L - Let It Rock - Kevin Rudolf, Lil Wayne

E - Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

tagging @bbglewis @anitalianfrie @lain-at-the-gay-bar

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Guess who's back? Back again Shady's back, tell a friend Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Guess who's back? Ha-ha Da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da Da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da

Well, look what the stork brung (What?) Little baby devil with the forked tongue And it's stickin' out, yeah, like a sore thumb (Blah) With a forehead that it grew horns from, still a White jerk Pullin' up in a Chrysler to the cypher With the Vics, percs and a Bud Light shirt Lyrical technician, an electrician, y'all light work And I don't got to play pretend you that you I make believe And you know I'm here to stay 'cause me (Why?) If I was to ever take a leave, it would be at spring to break a fever If I was to ask for Megan Thee Stallion if she would collab with me Would I really have a shot at a feat? I don't know, but I'm glad to be, back like-

Abra, abracadabra (And for my last trick) I'm 'bout to reach in my bag Abra, abracadabra (And for my last trick) And just like that I'm back

Now, back in the days of old me When right around the time I became a dope fiend Ate some codeine, as a way of copin', taste of opiates, case of O.E. (Mmm)

Turned me into a smiley face emoji My s**t may not be age-appropriate But I will hit an 8-year-old in the face with a participation trophy 'Cause I have zero doubts, that this whole world's 'bout to turn into some girl scouts

That censorship bureau's out to shut me down So when I started this verse, it did start off lighthearted first But it feels like I'm targeted, mind-bogglin' how my profit has skyrocketed

Look what I pocketed Yeah, the shit is just like y'all have been light joggin' And I've been runnin' full speed, and that's why I'm ahead like my noggin'

And I'm the fight y'all get in, when you debate who the best, but opps, I'm white chalkin' When I step up to that mic, cock it then "Oh my God, it's him, not again"

Abra-abracadabra (And for my last trick) I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh Abra-abracadabra (And for my last trick) And just like that I'm back, bro

Some times I wonder what the old me'd say (If what?) If he could see the way s**t is today (Look at this shit, man) He'd probably say that everything is gay (Like happy) What's my name? What's my name? (Slim Shady)

So how many little kids still wanna act like me? (Ha-ha) I'm a bigger prick than cacti be (Yeah) And that's why these (What?) words sting just like when bein' attacked by bees (Bzzz)

In the coupe, leanin' back my seat (What?) Bumpin' R. Kelly's favorite group, the Black Eyed Peas (Guy pees) In my Air Max 90s, white Tees, walkin' parental advisory My transgender cat's Siamese, identifies as Black, but acts Chinese Like a muthaf**kin' Hacky Sack, I treat (What?) the whole world 'cause I got it at my feet (Yeah)

How can I explain to you (What?) that even myself I'm a danger to?

(Yeah)

I hop on tracks like a kangaroo, and say a few things or two to anger you

But f**k that, if I think that s**t, I'ma say that s**t Cancel me, what? OK, that's it, go ahead Paul, quit Snake-a*s prick, you male cross dresser, fake-a*s b***h And I'll probably get s**t for that (Watch)

But you can all suck my d**k, in fact, f**k them, f**k Dre, f**k Jimmy, f**k me, f**k you

F**k my own kids, they're brats (F**k 'em) They can screw off, them and you all (Yeah) You too, Paul, got two balls, big as RuPaul's What you thought you saw (What?), ain't what you saw (Nah) 'Cause you're never gonna see me Caught sleepin' and see the kidnappin' never did happen Like Sherri Papini, Harry Houdini I vanish into the thin air as I'm leavin' like-

Abra-abracadabra (And for my last trick) I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh Abra-abracadabra (And for my last trick) And just like that I'm back, bro

[zafrinaxyz]

tysm for the tag ! @cryinginthemoonpool

✨ Based on this thread ✨

[ imma keep it a buck wit cha , that chain is too long 😂 ]

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.

Z - Z4L [ smino , young pink , jay2 , bari , NOIR ]

A - Ain't My Fault [ Zara Larsson , r3hab remix ]

F - Find Yourself [ great good fine ok , before you exit , ashworth remix ]

R - Real [ great good fine ok ]

I - I Wish [ joel corry ft mabel ]

N - NO.461 [ masterclass ]

A - Absolute [ foxes ]

X - XXX [ kim petras ]

Y - YES! [ kyle , k camp , rich the kid ]

Z - Zack and Codeine [ post malone ]

no pressure tags 😘

@strongheartneteyam @xstarsdiary @wain-fleets @oakbuggy @poisonousrain444 and anyone else who wants to join! ☺️🩵

[celestias-selfships]

Promo

The old Anastasia can’t come to the phone right now.

Why?

Oh, cause she’s dead!

Hi, I'm Anastasia, I'm 19, and I love selfshipping. I left the community and kept this blog for a while because I was not mentally ok and I was healing. I wanna be here and make friends here. I don't care about politics. I don't care what views you hold, I just wanna make friends. I'm a huge Swiftie. I'm down to share F/Os, if you don't want to and you don't want me to interact, let me know. If you have rules for people who have the same f/os, let me know and I'll follow them and tag.

turbulent INTJ, Hufflepuff (not supporting JKR, just liking the vibes of the hufflepuff common room and the double entendre), Reputation stan, harbinger of chaos, princess

Favorite artists: The Doors, Taylor Swift, Palaye Royale, Elle Lexxa, Siouxie and the Banshees, The Cure, Nine Inch Nails

Self insert: Celestia, an ex disney actress turned popstar.

tag: #I'll be the actress staring in your bad dreams

Celestia's wiki

F/O list with tags (in case we share, you can filter those tags if you want) and statuses (if no status, assume we're still dating)

Geralt of Rivia (not Liam Hemsworth, married, The Witcher) #linked by destiny

Alucard (Hellsing) #Hells Bells

Jareth (Labyrinth) #dance on fire as it intends

Damon Salvatore (weird on/off again fling, The Vampire Diaries) #maybe we got lost in translation

Enzo St. John (The Vampire Diaries) #with every guitar string scar on my hand

Elijah Mikaelson (The Originals) #never let me go

The Darkling/Alexsander Morova (Shadow and Bone) #Moonlit Drive

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) #november flush and your flannel cure

John Reese (Person Of Interest) #my knight in shining armor

Silco (Arcane) #we got the love in automatic

Viktor (Arcane #Gold Rush

Malcolm Bright #brighten up my life

Leon Scott Kennedy (Resident Evil) #whiskey on ice sunset and vine

Reno Sinclair (Final Fantasy 7) #aint it funny

Ferid Bathory (Seraph of the End) #nocturnal serenade

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer on Netflix) #Don't blame me

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) #the archer

Astarion (Baldur's gate III) #i was enchanted to meet you

Undertaker (Black Butler) #angel of small death and the codeine scene

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler) #carnations you had thought were roses

Connor (Detroit Become Human) #Can we always be this close

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil Village) #a shot in the darkest dark

Killian Jones (Once Upon A Time) #today was a fairytale

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) #is it cool that I said all that

Robert Montague Renfield (Renfield) #a love for the ages

Blade (Honkai Star Rail) #love the void

Patrick Jane (The Mentalist) #crazy = genius

August Ruthven (The Case Study of Vanitas) #red are the arms of luxuriant chairs and you won't know a thing until you get inside

Noe (The Case Study of Vanitas) #good old fashioned lover boy

Vanitas (The Case Study of Vanitas) #mr doctor man

Dwayne (the Lost Boys) #wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Jerry (2011 Fright Night) #take the highway to the end of the night

Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) #like snow on the beach

Tartaglia/Childe (Genshin Impact) #Ocean blue eyes looking in mine Alhaitham (Genshin Impact) #life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

@canongf Hi, I'm the anon who is returning after a bit. thank you for letting me tag you!

[pedrostylez]

Something Else pt. 7

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: You finally confront Anna, and Frankie is trying to keep himself under control

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 4.8k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, Oral f receiving, friendship dynamics, confrontation, illudes to drugs, jealousy, ptsd is swimming around here so proceed with caution

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! Thank you for your patience with this-I've been able to outline the other chapters and if you look at the series masterlist there will be 10 parts. Thank you for your continued interest, and I hope you enjoy! Please support by commenting, sending me thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you who reads this!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

You wake up to Frankie asleep, arm draped over your hip and nose pressed between your shoulder blades. His breath is fanning over your back, warm and comforting as you try to peek over your shoulder to see if he is truly unwakeable. His hair is sticking up on one side, curling around his ears in a way that you think must tickle. 

You debate staying in bed a bit longer until your stomach grumbles unhappily. Glancing at the clock, you can see it is much later than your normal breakfast time, and begin to slide out of bed. Trying to not ruffle the sheets too much, you stick a leg out onto the ground, almost fully out of the bed when Frankie’s hand tightens around your hip, sliding around you and pulling you back into the bed. You squeak out a surprise, turning your head toward him. 

His eyes have opened barely, peering at you with a sleepy smile and a hum escaping him. “Where’ya goin’?” He mumbles into your sheets, pulling on you more so that his nose can fit comfortably in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, sighing out as he wiggles closer to you. 

“I was going to start some breakfast.” As if on cue, your stomach growls, his hand tightening over your middle. 

He chuckles, pushing his hips forward so that they are flush against your bottom, his length hardening against you. “Stay.” He says into your shoulder, pressing a kiss into your skin just as your phone buzzes on the side table. 

You both freeze, looking in the direction of your phone and waiting. It vibrates again, incessant in its search for someone to answer it. You plan on ignoring it-not in the mood to ruin the perfect bubble you currently find yourself in, when you hear a ringtone you’re unfamiliar with out in the living room. 

It’s Frankie’s turn to groan, flopping onto his back and rubbing his forehead. “That’s mine.” 

You throw him a smile as you sit up in bed, reaching for your phone. 

Anna: Can we meet up for coffee? Or lunch, assuming you had Frankie stay over ;)

You hear Frankie groan as he slinks out into the living room, answering his phone after the third time it begins ringing with a hushed “What, man?”

You: Lunch at my place?

You stand up and stretch, stepping quietly into the hallway where you think you can give Frankie privacy without listening in too hard. You turn on the kitchen light, seeing Frankie glance in your direction. “I have to think about it still.” He mumbles out, scratching the back of his head and sitting down on your couch. He’s silent as you turn on the stove for water to boil. “I want to talk to Ben first…no…I just-you already signed off on this? God damn it–yeah I’ll be alright.” 

After he’s hung up he stares forward, shaking his head. “Will has already agreed on going down there again.”

You furrow your brow at the information, turning to look at him. “Why did he do that?”

Frankie huffs out an annoyed breath. “I don’t know. He is the one that took note of the coordinates, according to Pope. It’s the same shit again as last time with him agreeing if everyone agrees, but now he’s up my ass about it.” He pulls at his curls, something you think is for him to try and ground himself. 

You wait, listening to the water begin to simmer, the kettle beginning to shake before deciding to speak. “You want to talk to Benny, then?”

He nods, resting his head on his hand to look at you. “I need to know where his head is before I try to…wrap my head around going, if he wants to.” He looks at you, a sad smile lifting on his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have told you all of that, last night.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “No, I…I appreciate you telling me.” You pour the hot water over coffee grounds, letting two cups of coffee drip into a small carafe. “It’s a lot to handle on your own.”

When you finish with the coffee, walking over to Frankie with two cups in your hand you slide down to sit next to him. His hand wraps around one of the mugs, fingers brushing with yours as he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You sit silently together, sipping on your respective mugs waiting for the other to speak. You don’t know what to say; about last night, about Benny, about Anna, about anything. You leg begins incessantly shaking, staring off into the rest of the room to be in your own head. What will be said with Anna? Will she bring up Brad, or will she pretend it didn’t happen? Her text didn’t indicate she was upset–

“Hey.” Frankie says quietly, his palm warm from the mug resting on your knee. “Y’okay?”

You sigh, giving him a faint smile and then shaking your head. “I have to talk to Anna.”

He hums, gently taking your mug from your hands and setting it on the coffee table. He takes a deep breath, turning toward you and placing his hand back on your knee. His eyes flick to your neck, pupils blown wide for a moment before he swallows. “Can I…can I help? In any way?” He pauses, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. I just…you guys seem to have…issues.” 

You laugh, a brief chuckle. “We’ve been like sisters since high school. I can handle her on my own, it’s just difficult.” You sigh, leaning back into the couch and looking over at him. 

He nods, bringing his thumb up to your neck where he left a mark and stroking it. “Sorry, about this. I got carried away.” He flicks his eyes to yours before leaning in and pressing his lips on the mark gently.  “I’ve got to go see Ben before Will and Pope make me insane.”

He continues to press his lips to your neck, soft and warm and you sigh out happily. “Anna is going to be here for lunch.” He groans against you, another kiss into your skin before pulling away. 

Frankie leans toward the coffee table taking one last sip of his coffee to finish off the cup. “Wanna spend the night at my place?” He asks, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner as he stands. 

You smile, nodding your head at him. “Sure.”

Frankie doesn’t want to leave your place-not in the slightest. He thinks he’s covered up his anxiety well around you, focusing on kissing you and how you made him feel rather than what he is tempted to do. 

He’s walking in the direction of the gym again with the hopes that Benny is currently there, practicing. He needs to talk to someone that was there to better understand where his own mind is at. 

When he steps in through the front door, the sound of a punching bag being wailed on is the only indication that someone is here. “Ben?” Frankie calls, hearing the pause before Benny appears from behind a row of punching bags. 

“Fish!” He huffs, wiping at his forehead briefly before stepping over to Frankie. He glances around, likely looking for you, before bringing his gaze back to Frankie. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to talk to you about what Pope said last night. About the paycheck?” Frankie references, resting his hands on his hips and looking around the room. No one else was present, and he felt comfortable talking about it in the open. “I need to hear what you think about it.”

Benny waits, breathing heavily and watching Frankie. Frankie’s fingers are tapping against his belt, hair a mess from rolling around in your bed, and eyes drooping with tiredness. Frankie didn’t get a lot of sleep, only finding peace and finally falling unconscious when he was surrounded by you. He knows Benny can tell. Benny crosses his arms and gives a shrug. “What do you think about it?”

Frankie winces, shaking his head and looking away. “I–I need to know what you think first. I can’t–” He pauses, shutting his eyes tightly to push away the feeling in his gut. He wants to be able to handle this on his own, not go running to that side street he seems so familiar with. “I can’t get my thoughts straight.”

Benny steps towards him, hand heavy on Frankie’s shoulder as he looks at him. “Look at me, man.” He waits until Frankie’s eyes are on him, breathing through his nose with the intention of staying present. “I don’t think it’s the right move.”

Frankie feels himself deflate, eyes stinging with tears of relief. “I don’t want to go again.”

“We shouldn’t have to.” Benny nods, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder before releasing him. “I don’t think it's the right time, even if I wanted to go. But…” He shakes his head, wiping at his forehead. “Last time changed everything for me.”

Frankie nods, sighing out heavily. “Yeah.” Frankie remembers finding Tom, finding Benny leaning over him and shaking Tom’s dead body. Benny was likely more than just changed, dealing with his own issues that he covered up by continuing on. 

Benny begins unwrapping his hands of the gloves, sitting on the edge of the fighting ring. “I’ve always been a fighter, ready to go wherever you guys want. But I can’t watch another one of you die, just for a bag of money–no matter how much that money would change our lives.”

Frankie looks down to his shoes, feeling a sense of calmness. Reassured by Benny, he nods. “I’m not ready for something like that again.” Just because Santiago said he knew what would be in store, the last time indicated that he didn’t-he couldn’t know. 

Benny hums, standing and tossing his gloves. “You look like you’re about to rebound.” Frankie’s eyes flick up to his, embarrassment flooding his whole body. “C’mon, let’s go have lunch. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

You’re cutting up cheese for sandwiches when Anna knocks on your door, poking her head in for a moment. “Is he gone?” She says in a sing-song manner, taking a step around the corner to smile at you. 

“Yeah, he’s with Benny.” You nod, clearing your throat and setting down the knife. “I thought we could have sandwiches? Or grilled cheese.”

“Sounds great, honey.” Anna says quietly, shuffling from foot to foot before shutting your front door and stepping into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

You shake your head, opening the fridge and turning your back to her. 

It’s quiet for longer than you expected, and awkward tension rises between you before Anna finally huffs out a breath, sitting at one of your dining room chairs. “Listen, you caught me off guard last night.” You swallow, looking over at her and waiting. You don’t want to show any emotion, if you can help it. “Can you tell me what you meant? By saying you liked Brad?”

You look down to your nails, already itching to peel at the skin around them. “I meant that I liked him. Just what I said.”

Anna waits for you to explain more, a furrow creasing her brow as she shakes her head. “Why didn’t you say that? Two years ago?”

“What do you mean? I did. I told you–”

“No, honey.” She stops you, moving her head to try and be in your eye line. “You didn’t. We were out, looking for a guy for you to get over Caleb and then found Brad.” She scoffs, laughing at herself. “You said you were looking for a fuck boy. Do you remember that?”

“Well, yeah.” You mumble, shakily pulling out two pieces of bread and setting them on the counter in front of you. 

Anna takes a deep breath, softly speaking, “What I remember is that two weeks later you brought him along to another girls' night and I was drunk and asked if I could…flirt with him.” She stops, clearing her throat and waiting. When you don’t respond she continues. “What do you remember?”

You swallow roughly, shaking your head. “I don’t know.” You do know. She was explaining it how you remember, but there was the fact that you didn’t want her to ask in the first place. That she should have known. 

Anna scoffs, now annoyed and standing up to walk towards the counter you’re at. She leans her hands against the edge, “How are you going to hold this against me and bring it up out of the blue but then not tell me what happened?”

You give your own chuckle, shaking your head and lifting your eyes to hers. She’s upset–but so are you. You have been for years. “It’s not out of the blue, Anna. You’ve always done this.”

Her eyes widened in confusion. “Done what?”

You raise your hands up in disbelief. “Talked about guys that I’ve liked like they’re meat. Like we share. Like…like I can’t have one relationship that you’re not part of.” You take another deep breath, shaking your head. “Why do you ask if we can share, or for you to switch boyfriends?”

“What are you talking about?” She's pursing her lips in a way that makes you think she really doesn’t know.

“You slept with Brad after I slept with him.” You pause, debate if you should say what spills out of your mouth next. It’s now or never.  “Caleb said I wasn’t the one because he was really just fucking in love with you.”

Anna’s mouth opens, slack and in shock. “What?” She freezes, looking you dead in the face. 

“He told me, Anna.” Tears prick your eyes, looking up at the ceiling fan to try and keep them at bay. “He was so adamant throughout our relationship to have you there, and I thought he wanted me to just have my friends around, but when he broke up with me he-” You cut yourself off, unable to continue.

Anna is beginning to pace back and forth in front of your counter, running her hands through her hair. “Caleb never spoke to me in a way that made me think he was trying anything.” She shakes her head, only a pace away from you. “Nothing ever happened, do you hear me? I didn’t even know. I would have told him to get lost much sooner if I thought he was trying to…use you to get closer to me.”

You roll your eyes, letting  her sit in the information, still pacing back and forth. You can’t help yourself when you mutter, “You’re always flirting.”

Anna freezes again in place, suddenly paler. “No, I’m not!”

“You acted like you knew things about Frankie that you didn’t! In the coffee shop.” You’re speaking louder now, feeling heat in your cheeks and in your stomach from the effort of this confrontation. 

“I don’t even remember what you’re talking about.” She shakes her head, voice cracking.

You can’t help but blow up a little further. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember! It happened! I’m allowed to be upset about this!” 

Anna stops again, facing you head on and waiting. It feels like minutes have passed before she inhales deeply. “You are. You have a right to be upset. I shouldn’t have even asked to go talk to Brad; I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk that I couldn’t read your body language. I’ll admit that.” She pauses, clearing her throat and trying to hold back tears. Her eyes are becoming glassy and you want to reach out to her. “But you’re holding it against me after two years of not telling me that it hurt your feelings. And reading into things that just aren’t true about Frankie.” She sniffles, wiping at her nose with the end of her shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I shouldn’t joke like that, whether I remember it or not; we always used to and–” Her voice catches, closing her eyes to try and recollect herself.

You feel deflated, stepping towards her and grabbing for her hand. “No, you’re right I should have said something.”

She hiccups, bringing her eyes back to yours. “You’re like my sister and I didn’t know. That’s what kills me right now is that I didn’t know, and I could have apologized sooner. I could have been working on making it up to you sooner. I could have helped sooner.” 

You both stand there quietly for a minute, staring at each other until you finally nod. “Okay. I’ll try to tell you as soon as I don’t like what you’ve said, or if someone is secretly in love with you.” You think that maybe comedic relief is needed, even though you mean it. 

Anna sniffles, nodding her head and exhaling in relief. “Have I really joked about switching boyfriends? And not even realize it?”

You go back to the cutting board, moving the cheese to the side to start slicing some cucumber. “Yeah. You said it when Frankie was in my closet hiding from you.”

“So, he was actually here that day?” Anna gives a watery smile, wiping at her face and shaking her head. “Ugh, I’m sorry honey. Seriously.”

You swallow, nodding your head. “I know.”

Frankie is still jittery after lunch with Benny, even though he was reassured multiple times that Benny would stick by him-that they wouldn’t be going to South America again any time soon, until both of them were ready. 

“We can talk to them next time we are at the hangar.” Benny said, dropping him off at Frankie’s front door with a pat on the back. “Don’t worry too much right now. You’ll be good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Frankie shrugged him off, feeling his heart race at being alone in his apartment. 

He’s not fine. 

He’s craving something, and he has this feeling in the pit of his stomach that he is backpedaling all the hard work he had accomplished in therapy. There’s this itch that he can’t shake that he hasn’t felt in years. Frankie’s eyes flash over to the door as a loud vehicle passes, feeling sweat begin to form at his temples. It’s a quick walk to where his dealer probably still is; he hadn’t spoken to him since Santiago had taken his phone from him and blocked the number, but he could probably just show up. He was a pretty fair guy, was always calm–

A knock on his door makes him jump, breathing out a steady stream of air through pursed lips as he twists the knob to reveal you. You’re standing with a bag draped over your arm, a small and tentative smile growing on your lips as you look him over. “Hey,”

Relief floods Frankie’s system, unable to hold back as he leans towards you and crushes you against him. You let out a surprised huff, burying your hand into his hair. “H-hey, hi.”

“Everything okay?” You ask into his ear, scratching lightly at the back of his head. It soothes him, nodding into your shoulder and brushing his nose against your neck. 

When he pulls away, he sees you searching again for something. “Yeah, just…long day.” You nod, stepping into his entryway as he slides the bag you brought off your shoulder. It’s heavier than he expects, smirking to himself. “You bring your whole closet?”

You laugh quietly, kicking off your shoes and turning to him. “Just the essentials.” Your smile spreads across your face, making his nerves settle and a small smile continues to grow on his. “I thought I would make you dinner, if you had anything in the fridge?”

“You don’t need to make anything.” He shakes his head, setting down your bag and wrapping an arm around your torso. His eyes flick to your mouth briefly before he feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I had…something else in mind. To eat.”

You purse your lips and squint at him, holding back a laugh that he feels vibrating through your chest that is pressed to his. You squeeze your hand into his shoulder, sighing out, “Maybe later. Let’s make something easy while you tell me what Benny said?”

He swallows harshly as you step away, unaware of his nerves that have picked up again. He clears his throat, following you to the kitchen and leaning against the chair he has set up at a table. His hands shake, holding on to the back of the chair as if it is the only thing holding him afloat. 

You glance at him briefly as you open his cabinets one by one, perusing what he has and calculating what could be made for dinner. He watches you settle on some pasta, humming happily and pulling it down to the counter. 

“Ben doesn’t want to go.” He breathes, closing his eyes for a moment. “He thinks we could, eventually but…it’s not the right time.”

You nod, letting out a harsh, “Good, fuck Santiago.” Before snapping your mouth shut and leaning down to the lower cabinets and grabbing an empty pot to fill at his sink. “He shouldn’t have put you and Benny in that situation.”

Frankie lets out a short laugh, shaking his head and swinging the chair around to sit in it. “He has good intentions.” Frankie’s mood continues to lighten as he watches you shake your head, glaring in his general direction before putting the pot of water on the stove. “He wants all of us to be taken care of, and thinks it’s the only way. Very black and white.”

You hum, stepping back from the water that has now been put on to boil, sliding over to the chair Frankie is currently sitting in. “Anna said that Santiago was having mixed feelings after seeing how you reacted.” You lean forward, pressing your lips to his cheek briefly before resting your hand on the back of his chair. He can smell your shampoo again, and wants to pull you closer. “He doesn’t want to lose you as a friend just because of this.”

“He won’t.” Frankie confirms, lifting a hand to your hip to move your shirt out of the way. His thumb presses into your cooled skin, pulling you forward to straddle his legs. You smile, refusing to sit down but hovering over him. “Sit, querida.” 

“I’m trying to cook for you.” You laugh, moving a hand to his shoulder to keep yourself standing as he tries to pull you down on him. “Don’t distract me.”

“Just a quick kiss, baby.” He muses, smirking as you lower onto his lap. He holds you tightly to him, arms straining as you are trying to pull away and failing. You begin to laugh, opening your mouth to the perfect opportunity for Frankie’s tongue to slide against yours. 

You gasp, hands tightening on his shoulders and letting your full weight sit on him. Frankie groans, wrapping his arms around your back and scooting you closer so that your center is flush with his. “Frankie, you’ve got to stop.”

“Do you want me to? To stop?” He asks, breathless and pawing at you to be closer, closer, closer. You bite at your lip, whining when your center subconsciously rolls against his, and he can’t help it when he brings one hand up to the back of your head and brings your mouth back to his. 

Its teeth and heavy breathing, frantic hands and tongue as he lifts you with him, immediately kneeling down on to the tiled floor. You gasp again, pulling away on enough to lean a hand back as he lowers you further, fingers quickly going to the button of your jeans. “The water–”

“It’ll be fine.” He mutters, pulling at the waistband to pop over your ass. He clocks the baby blue lace, the hint of small flowers sewn in and pauses for a moment. “What are you wearing?”

Your face flushes red, embarrassed as his hand slides up your thigh, an attempt to smooth away the worry. He guides your legs apart, keeping his eyes on yours as he feels you shiver. “I thought they were cute.” You squeak as his fingers ghost over your center, his eyes going back to the discarded jeans and looking at the underwear again. 

“I do too.” He says lowly, adjusting himself to be laying on his stomach, face perched just above your core as he wraps his fingers around your thighs. “Do you match under there?” He sticks his chin up to your shirt, waiting for you to lift it with blown out pupils. 

With shaking fingers you reach for the hem, lifting it over your face to reveal the matching bra as Frankie leans forward to press his tongue against your clit. You gasp, stuttering in your movements as the collar of your shirt gets stuck at your forehead. “Frankie–”

“Lay down, baby.” He moans, sliding his tongue down to your center. He groans when he finds you wetter than he had anticipated, slipping the tip of his tongue in and out of you to feel your legs twitch. 

You crane your head back, leaning on one elbow as your other hand drifts down to his hair, tugging at the feeling of him. It’s overwhelming, how his moans vibrate up your spine, how one of his hands lifts to your chest and his thumb swipes back and forth over a perked nipple through the sheer fabric. 

Frankie’s eyes are locked on your face, indulging in how you look, how you feel. He doesn’t understand how you’re so wet for him, of all people. Burying his face into you is the only thing he thinks will keep him anchored right now, let him stay focused. He moves his nose between your folds, pressing against your clit firmly as his tongue delves deeper, and your moan spurs him on further. 

He moans over you, replacing his tongue with a single finger that you accept quickly with a sigh. He smiles at you, squeezing your chest in acknowledgement. “So fucking wet for me, baby. What’s got you so riled up?”

You squirm below him, his hand up at your chest holding you firm while his other pumps in and out of you. “Y-you.” You squeak, flushing in embarrassment. You peek a look at him to find his mouth agape, lips curled up at the sides and running his tongue across his canines. It makes you shake, throwing your head back again. 

“Ain’t no fucking way,” Frankie growls, pressing another finger into to you without warning. You spread your legs further apart, tile you hadn’t touched yet cooling your skin as he moves quicker. “No way in hell you’re this fucking gorgeous every fucking time. So fuckin’ needy f’me, all dressed up and wasn’t going to let me see,”

Frankie’s babbling gets the best of you, your fingers gripping at the hair on top of his head and shutting your eyes to feel him. When your breathing starts to pick up, almost panicking at how quickly your orgasm is coming, Frankie soothes you. He holds you tight to him, mouth over your clit and humming as his unoccupied hand holds you down by the hip and running his thumb back and forth. 

You try to jerk away, popping your eyes open at the feeling of him still going, not slowing down. “Frankie, p-please,”

He flicks his eyes up to yours, slowing his tongue's circular movements as he watches you. You pull your hand away from his hair, grabbing on to his wrist in the hopes that he might pull away-have mercy on you. Instead, Frankie flips his hand, grasping yours in his and squeezing you tightly as his fingers continue to pump into you. He pulls his mouth away, a string of spit connecting you still to him. “You’ll give me another.” 

Just as he goes to dive back in, your whines of protest are cut short when you both hear steaming water sizzling. You snap your head over to the stove, watching it boil over and steam profusely. “Shit!”

You both scramble up, haze around you broken as you turn off the stove and let him move the pot off the heat, standing and watching as it calms down. You realize quickly that you’re wearing nothing from the waist down, only in your bra while Frankie is fully clothed. You go to cover yourself, glancing around on Frankie’s floor to see where your clothes might be, but Frankie grabs your hand, turning you to look at him. 

He blushes, biting his lip as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Come on.” He pulls on your hand, letting your chest bump against his as he plants a kiss on your cheek. Your smile creeping up on your cheeks is all he needs to know that it is the right move to keep pulling you towards the bedroom.