anyalc0h0lic

[anyalc0h0lic]

Midnight Chemistry

Pairing: dbf!/cowboy Joel Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.5K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You fuck your dad's best friend on a camping trip with him asleep in the other room.

A/N: Well babes, I once again find myself trapped in the hole of dbf! / cowboy Joel. Sorry I've been mia lately. I have been espresso depresso lately, and writing has been difficult. This helped. I hope you all enjoy it.x

Warnings: POV-Switching. Tension. Flirting/Teasing. Age gap but not mentioned (make it your own). Pet names. Camping. Chair Sex. Sex with a parent in the other room. Forbidden lovers. Some fighting/sexual accusations. Drinking. Guilty feelings. The smut is pretty straightforward, just a passionate fuck without a lot of fanfare. Creampie. TLOU au. No use of Y/N. No use of daddy. Reader has female sex anatomy and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Let me know if I missed anything! Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

JOEL

Nothing good happens after midnight. 

He’d heard it his whole life, and he’d believed it. Why wouldn’t he? Every bar fight, every reckless choice, every memory drowned in half-truths and fog always seemed to come alive after twelve.

And here you are in his orbit, confirming it all. 

It’s like you’re eating up all of the air around him, eyes locked on his with something he can’t quite name—a hunger, a challenge, maybe even a warning. 

You smile, pulling him closer. 

Oh yeah, none of what’s happening right now is good, not in the traditional sense, anyway. Good men wouldn’t even entertain this, whatever the fuck this is. 

A good man would veer his gaze. 

A good man would tell you to go to bed. 

A good man wouldn’t have let you get this far. 

Much like what happens after midnight, he’s not so sure he’s good, either, but fuck it. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

YOU

“Come on, sweet pea. It’ll be just like old times,” your dad coaxes, with that look in his eyes that you swear only dads can pull off.

You sigh, dragging out the sound for maximum effect, but he’s not buying it. It’s not that you’re against camping, per se. It’s the timing. You’re buried under a mountain of work, and the idea of stepping away—just to battle November mosquitoes clinging to life in the woods—isn’t exactly screaming relaxing weekend getaway.

“Hey, we can make s’mores. For old time’s sake.” He grins, tugging on that nostalgic heartstring he knows you have.

You roll your eyes but feel your resolve start to slip. He knows it, too. The man has a sixth sense for it. Left to yourself, you’d probably spend the evening sipping wine, convincing yourself that going would be nice, that you should go. But your dad doesn’t even give you the chance. He pulls out the big guns—the line that always gets you.

“You know, your mom and I… we used to love camping. She would’ve loved…” He trails off, leaving the words unfinished, their weight lingering in the room.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and before you’re ready for them, the words tumble out of your mouth. “Fine, Dad. I’ll go. But if you’re expecting me to kill anything, you’re out of your mind.”

His face lights up, and he claps you on the shoulder. “You sure? You were a pretty good shot back in the day.”

Your stomach twists. All these years later, and the memory still makes your skin crawl. You’re not a vegan or even a vegetarian—you’re just not about to take something’s life yourself. “I’m sure. I’ll go, but I’m not going hunting. I’ll make the s’mores, I’ll play the card games, and I’ll even cook up whatever you happen to kill. But I’m not… I’m just not doing that.”

“Deal, sweetie,” he says, his grin returning as he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll leave Saturday at 6 a.m. sharp. Try not to be late, yeah? I’ll let Joel know you’re coming along.”

Wait—6 a.m.? And… Joel? Joel?

Your mind screeches to a halt. This is not what you agreed to. Campfire s’mores and father-daughter bonding? Sure. Throwing Joel into the mix? Not exactly in your plan.

You want to protest, to blurt out a thousand excuses and maybe even bail entirely. But you don’t. You just nod, though that funny, fuzzy feeling is creeping into your stomach. The thought of spending a weekend in the woods with Joel… and your dad… leaves your mind spinning.

What could possibly go wrong?

++++

The late afternoon sun catches the black cowboy hat Joel’s wearing, pulled low enough to cast a shadow over his face. The silver threaded through his beard glints in the light, making him look older and annoyingly good in a way that feels unfair. 

His Wranglers, worn and faded, fit just right, and his white shirt is crisp but rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his tanned forearms. It’s cold out, but he doesn’t seem to care. His boots scuff against the gravel as he leans back, one hand resting on his hip, the other steady on the gas pump.

“Your hair’s longer,” Joel says, his voice easy, low enough to carry over the soft hum of the pump. His shoulders shift as he turns toward you, his shirt stretching over them in a way that feels borderline illegal. His whole posture is casual, like he’s completely comfortable with himself.

You’ve managed to ignore him the whole drive, keeping your eyes glued to the passing scenery and answering his small talk with vague nods or single syllables. But now, there’s no avoiding him, not with the way he’s watching you, his hat tipped back just enough to reveal the razor edge of his jaw.

“Uh, yeah, I cut it since the last time I saw you,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair like that’s not the most awkward response ever. Bella Swan much?

“Looks good,” he says, his gaze dropping to the pump as if he’s letting you off the hook. “You look… lawyer-y.”

“Lawyer-y?” you scoff, crossing your arms. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Joel smirks, slow and infuriating. “Depends. You takin’ it as one?”

You’re halfway through thinking up a comeback when your dad bursts out of the gas station, waving a bag of snacks over his head like he’s just hit the jackpot. “Got the goods!” he hollers, grinning from ear to ear.

You laugh despite yourself as he jogs over and drops the bag onto the truck’s hood. “Almost ready,” he says, rubbing at his wrist with a grimace. “Joel, mind taking over? My carpal tunnel’s acting up.”

Joel just nods, all effortless and understated, and slides into the driver’s seat. In seconds, you’re back on the road. The hum of the truck fills the silence, but you can’t stop noticing Joel—one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually on the passenger seat as he glances over his shoulder to back up. His gaze flicks to you for half a second, and then—of course—he winks.

It’s not the first time. He’s always been a winker, like it’s just part of who he is. Usually, it’s harmless, even kind of charming. But this time? This time it feels different. There’s something else to it, something that leaves your stomach flipping and your mind wandering places it really shouldn’t.

This weekend’s going to be long, and you already know it. You tell yourself to let it go, to focus on something else, but a tiny, traitorous voice in your head wonders just how long Joel might be in other ways.

You shut that thought down fast, dragging your focus to the road ahead. Get a grip, for fucks sake. Your efforts to try and convince yourself that you aren’t into Joel, you’re just horny, fail miserably. 

++++

“Alright, I think this is a good spot for the night. Joel, can you help me pop out the sides?” your dad asks, already moving toward the camper.

“Yeah, sure,” Joel says, his voice easy, warm like the sunset spilling over the campsite.

“I’ll get started on the campfire,” you blurt too quickly, the words tumbling out as you scramble for a task that puts some space between you and Joel. Anything to escape the pull of those chocolate-brown eyes that seem to find yours a little too often.

You grab the logs with more force than necessary, tossing them onto the firepit like it’s a personal vendetta. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you mutter under your breath with each thud. The sharp cracks and snaps of the fire feel like it’s mocking you, every ember rising in the dark like it’s carrying your secrets skyward.

It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him when you were younger—who wouldn’t? Joel Miller, with his broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, and that rough-edged charm, had no business looking like that in front of impressionable teenage girls. It was practically criminal. And now? Now it was just plain infuriating. No man his age had any right to still be this... magnetic.

You shake the thought off with a huff, stacking the last log and striking a match. It was ages ago. You’re an adult now. You have a real job, real friends, real responsibilities.

You jab the fire with a stick, coaxing the flames higher, like punishing the wood might burn the thought out of your mind. You’re too grown for this. Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend. Off-limits. End of story.

By the time you sit down, PB&J in hand—the kind your dad always makes on camping trips—the fire is crackling high, warming the cool night air. Joel and your dad drop into their chairs across from you, their voices low as they reminisce about old trips and laugh over some forgotten mishap. You focus on your sandwich, chewing methodically, trying not to let the rich baritone of Joel’s laughter stir something you’d rather ignore.

And then Joel looks at you.

It’s not much—just a glance, a soft smile as the firelight flickers over his face, but it’s enough to make your pulse stutter. “You did a good job with the fire,” he says, his voice gentle, easy, but there’s something in it. A thread of admiration. Maybe even... praise.

The words hit harder than they should, settling square in your chest and unraveling something you’d worked so hard to keep stitched up. “Thanks,” you murmur, focusing on the flames and hoping the fire’s glow hides the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Joel’s eyes linger on you a second too long before he turns back to your dad, diving into another story, but you’re already lost. The tension hums in the air, in you, in the spaces between his words. It’s like the fire’s not just crackling but buzzing, alive with something unspoken, something you’re not sure you’re ready to name.

++++

"Well, I’m more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey," your dad says, patting his belly with a grin that always makes you roll your eyes—but secretly, you love it. Not that you’d ever let him know; you don’t need a never-ending stream of bird jokes in your life.

“I should probably turn in,” he adds, draining the last of his Coors with a practiced ease before crushing the can in his hand. “Make sure that fire’s out completely, alright? Don’t need any tickets,” he grumbles, heading toward the camper. His heavy steps creak up the stairs, and the screen door slams shut behind him, leaving you and Joel alone by the fire.

The quiet settles in immediately; the only sounds the crackle of the dying fire and the faint rustle of wind in the trees. Joel leans back in his chair, his beer dangling casually from one hand, his face softened by the flickering firelight. You catch his gaze across the flames, and for a moment, it feels like there’s something unspoken hanging in the air.

“So, your dad tells me you’ve been pretty successful—” Joel starts, but he doesn’t get to finish.

A group of guys strolls into the circle of light, beers in hand, all wearing denim jackets like they’re auditioning for some rugged outdoorsman catalog. One of them, blonde and overly confident, steps forward with a wide grin.

“Don’t mind us,” he says, voice smooth as he gestures toward the fire. “We just couldn’t resist the smell of whatever you’ve been cooking over here. Smells too good to pass up.” His eyes land squarely on you when he says “good,” his grin turning into something sly.

“Must be another campsite,” Joel cuts in before you can answer, his tone calm but edged with something sharp. “Just beers for us.” He takes another sip of his beer—lifting the can with slow precision, his eyes locked on the guy over the rim—like he’s daring him to keep going.

The blonde doesn’t miss a beat, smirking as he tips his PBR toward you. “Well, maybe you’d like to come have a drink with us instead, sweetheart?” he says, tilting his head toward their campsite. “We’re just over there playing beer pong. No pressure, though.”

Joel’s scoff is low and quick, barely audible over the fire. His hand tightens around his beer can, quiet tension radiating off him. Without looking at you, he clears his throat and stands, brushing dirt off his jeans.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he mutters, his voice cool, almost detached.

Your stomach twists as he turns on his heel, heading toward the camper without a glance back. “Night, kiddo,” he tosses over his shoulder, the nickname sharp and slightly bitter.

Kiddo? Really? Your jaw tightens as you watch him walk away, his boots crunching over the pine needles. He knows damn well you’re not a kid, but he’s made his choice clear. Frustration flares in your chest, mingling with something sharper—something you’d probably rather not admit you know you feel.

And maybe that’s why you do it. Maybe that’s why you turn back to Mr. Denim-on-Denim, meeting his cocky grin with one of your own, smile bright. “Beer pong, huh?” you say, letting your voice dip just enough to carry. “Sounds fun.”

Joel’s boots hesitate for half a beat, just long enough for you to notice. And even though he doesn’t turn around, you know he’s listening.

++++

The slam of the screen door echoes through the quiet camper as you step inside, cursing under your breath at how impossible it is to sneak in silently. The steps creaked, the latch stuck—every sound you made felt amplified in the thick stillness of the forest. You stop just inside, exhaling as you prepare to tiptoe to your makeshift bed on one of the side bunks.

But then, the low rumble of a throat clearing freezes you in your tracks.

“Have fun while you were out there?” Joel’s voice cuts through the darkness, low and rough, like a storm rolling in. You glance toward the faint green glow of the stove clock, your eyes adjusting to the shadows enough to make out his silhouette. He’s sitting back in a chair, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his posture deceptively casual. 

Your heart thuds in your chest as you pull the oversized Carhartt jacket tighter around you. His jacket. The one he draped over your shoulders earlier tonight without a word when he caught you shivering, your puffer no match for the chill of the Colorado air. You hadn’t been able to escape the scent of him all night—sawdust, peppermint, and that faint trace of smoke he could never quite shake even though he quit a year ago.

“I didn’t realize I needed a chaperone,” you reply, keeping your voice even, though you can feel the heat rising in your chest.

“You don’t,” Joel says, his tone clipped, his jaw tight as he leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “But I don’t think they were exactly looking out for your best interests.”

The implication in his words stirs something sharp inside you. “Oh, so now you’re worried about what’s best for me?” you shoot back, stepping closer, your boots clicking softly against the linoleum. “That’s rich, Joel.”

His head tilts, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you say, voice firm as you close the distance between you, “that you don’t get to play the protective card when you’re the one sending mixed signals all night.”

His brow furrows, his gaze holding yours, unflinching. “Mixed signals?” he repeats, the roughness in his voice softening, but the tension is still there, coiled tight beneath the surface.

You take another step closer, close enough now to see the flicker of something raw in his eyes—anger, frustration, and something else you can’t quite name. Your fingers brush against the edge of the jacket draped around you, a reminder of how his presence had lingered even when you were trying to distract yourself with someone else.

“Did you fuck him?”

The question falls from Joel’s lips like a hammer, hitting the air between you with a weight that makes your breath catch. His voice is low but rising, edged with a tension that’s almost suffocating. You blink at him, stunned, the words reverberating in the small space of the camper.

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice sharp but quiet as you glance toward the thin wall separating you from your dad. “Keep your voice down.”

He doesn���t move, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into yours. “Did. You. Fuck. Him?” he repeats, slower this time, but no less intense. 

You take a step back, your arms folding across your chest defensively. “Are you serious right now? Do you even hear yourself?” you hiss, keeping your voice low, though it’s laced with incredulity. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Joel leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if he’s trying to hold himself together. “What’s wrong with me?” he mutters, his voice still low but brimming with frustration. “What’s wrong is the thought of him touching you, being with you—it’s been in my goddamn head all night.”

You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, part from anger, part from the sheer intensity of his words. “You don’t get to ask me that. You don’t get to be this way when you’re the one who’s kept this…” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever this is, in limbo.”

Joel’s eyes narrow, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before returning to you. “You think I don’t want this? You think I don’t feel this?” His voice cracks slightly, the words raw and unfiltered as he rises to stand. “I’m trying to keep this from blowing up, trying to do the right thing—for him, for you—but you…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair.

“Then don’t accuse me of something you don’t even have the right to ask about,” you snap, your voice trembling slightly despite your effort to keep it steady. “You don’t get to claim me, Joel. Not like this.”

His gaze drops to your lips for a brief moment before he looks away, exhaling sharply, his shoulders slumping as if the fight has drained out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, his voice softer now, almost resigned. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have,” you cut in, though your tone lacks the sharpness it had before. 

His hands flex at his sides, his jaw clenching as he looks away, as if searching for the right words. But when his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s no hesitation. “You don’t see it, do you?” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your arms, his gaze locked on yours. “You’re everything. And any guy with a pulse would be a fool not to want you.”

Your breath hitches as his words sink in, striking something deep inside you that you’ve kept locked away for too long. Slowly, your hands reach up, brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. “Even you?” you whisper.

Joel doesn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His hands move to your waist, his grip firm, grounding, but he doesn’t pull you closer. He doesn’t have to. His hesitation lingers for just a second too long, and that’s all the permission you need.

You push him back firmly, your palms flat against his chest, sending him sprawling into the chair behind him. His eyes widen slightly, surprised, but he doesn’t stop you. His hands instinctively find your hips as you step forward, sliding one leg over his and straddling him.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the heat radiating off his body and the way his gaze locks onto yours, dark and hungry. You grab his face, your fingers threading into the scruff of his beard, and then your lips are on his, fierce and demanding.

The kiss is a collision of fire and frustration, years of restraint finally snapping like a brittle string. His hands grip your hips tighter, anchoring you against him as your body presses flush to his. He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips, and it’s enough to make your pulse race faster.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His chest rises and falls against yours, his eyes searching your face like he’s still trying to figure out how this happened—or if it’s even real.

But you’re done second-guessing. You’re done fighting the pull. You tilt your hips against him, testing the waters, and the way his breath hitches, sharp and unsteady, tells you everything you need to know.

JOEL

He isn’t sure which heartbeat demands his attention first—the one pounding in his chest, the one ringing in his ears from your words, or the one throbbing lower, urging him forward. But like any race, there’s always a clear winner, and as his hands tighten around your hips, his choice becomes undeniable. He’s done pretending, done trying to act like he doesn’t want this as much as he does.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, a low, guttural groan escaping his throat, because the weight of you on top of him like this is almost too much. It’s torture—sweet, unbearable, and wholly consuming. What makes it worse—or maybe better—is the way you seem to know exactly what you’re doing to him. The maddening curve of your lips says it all: you’re enjoying this. Enjoying him unraveling beneath you.

He swallows hard, trying to keep some semblance of control, but the slow roll of your hips against his is enough to push him dangerously close to the edge. It’s intentional, a tease, and a dead giveaway that you know exactly how he feels—how much he wants you—and that you’re about to take him for all he’s worth.

And fuck if he isn’t ready to let you.

But then, the weight of reality crashes down like a bucket of ice water. The camper is too quiet, save for the faint creaks of the old chair beneath you and the soft rustling of fabric as your movements shift against each other. It’s too close, too confined, and just across the narrow hall, your dad is fast asleep.

Or at least, Joel hopes he is.

The thought freezes him for a split second, the guilt clawing its way back to the surface. This is wrong. He knows it’s wrong. Your dad is his best friend—his closest confidant for nearly thirty years—and here he is, letting that sacred bond dissolve into heat and desperation in a single heartbeat.

He doesn’t move to stop you, though. He should, but he can’t. Not when you lean closer, your breath warm against his ear, and whisper, “Do you like what you feel?”

His hands tighten on your hips, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s trying to anchor himself, to remind himself that this is real—and that it shouldn’t be happening.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he rasps, his voice rough and thick with want. He’s trying, God, he’s trying to hold on to some shred of control, but the way you’re moving, the way your body fits against his—it’s breaking him. He knows your dad is just feet away, separated by a flimsy door and thin walls, but the tension between you is louder than logic.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs, his words barely more than a breath. “Your dad—” His voice catches, his gaze flicking to the door across the hall, like he expects it to fly open at any moment. “He’s right there.”

“I know,” you reply. Your hands trail up his chest, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “But do you want me to stop?”

Joel’s resolve wavers, cracking under the weight of your words and the hunger in your eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading. But even as he says it, his hands slide beneath your shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. “If he finds out…”

“He won’t,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Unless you make me loud.”

And shit, you’re filthy. A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be this sexy; it’s kind of intimidating. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that’s part frustration, part surrender, and pulls you closer, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that feels like it’s been building for years. His hands grip your hips, holding you tight as if to keep you from slipping away, even though you’re right there, pressing against him with just as much fire.

The weight of the moment presses down on him—what this means, how easily it could all unravel if even one sound gives you away. But for now, all he can do is drown in your heat, every kiss, every touch.

"Fuck, baby. Pants off, now," Joel growls, his voice rough and edged with need. The demand sends a thrill racing down your spine, and you can’t help but smirk, satisfied by how easily you’ve unraveled him.

You rise slowly, your hands moving to the button of your jeans as you step back just enough to give him a good view. You shimmy the denim down your legs, kicking them off one foot at a time, your eyes never leaving his.

Joel watches you like he’s starving, his gaze dark and focused, a storm brewing behind it. His hands move to his belt, undoing the buckle with a practiced ease. The faint metallic clink of the buckle is followed by the soft sound of his zipper, and then he shifts in the chair, pushing his jeans halfway down his hips.

Your eyes drop, and your pulse kicks up at the sight of him, hard and thick, his cock curving against his stomach. The dim light of the camper catches on his skin, the glisten of precum beading at the top of him, and the sight sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

Joel leans back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make room for you, one hand braced on the armrest of the chair while the other wraps loosely around himself, stroking once up his length. His lips curl into a smirk that matches yours, and his voice is low, almost a growl.

"Now come back here, darlin'," Joel murmurs, his voice rough and thick with desire. His hand wraps around himself at the base, holding himself steady and straight. "Show me just how bad you want it."

YOU

Your breath catches at the sight, heat pooling low in your belly as you step closer. You don’t rush, letting him feel the weight of your gaze, letting him see exactly how much you want him. The camper feels smaller, the air heavier, and the faint creaks of the old chair beneath him only seem to amplify the tension between you. The thin walls, the quiet rustle from the next room where your dad sleeps, only add to the heady mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through your veins.

You straddle him again, your bare legs brushing against the rough denim of his jeans, your hands sliding up his chest. The warmth of his skin radiates through his t-shirt, and his breath stutters when your nails rake lightly down his torso, leaving a faint trail of fire in their wake. His free hand moves to your waist, gripping firmly, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip bone.

“Like this?” you tease, your voice low, sultry, as you roll your hips against him, feeling the hard heat of him pressing against you, igniting a delicious ache in your core. The friction pulls a sharp inhale from him, his grip on your waist tightening as though holding onto his last shred of control. Each slow movement chips away at his restraint, leaving only raw hunger in its wake.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Joel groans, his head falling back for a moment, exposing the strong line of his throat. The sight of him like this—vulnerable, undone, and utterly yours—sends a surge of confidence through you, emboldening you to take more, to push further.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice a whisper. “Good.”

His reaction is immediate, primal. His hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, fierce and desperate. His stubble is rough against your skin, his lips hot and insistent, and the way he devours you sends sparks shooting down your spine. You lift your hips slightly, just enough to feel him notched at your entrance, the anticipation stealing your breath.

When he thrusts up into you, it’s all at once—hot, hard, and unrelenting. A broken gasp escapes your lips as he fills you, stretching you, splitting you open in a way that’s almost too much and yet exactly what you need.

His hand returns to your hips, gripping with bruising intensity, guiding you against him as he sets a punishing rhythm like he’s trying to bury himself deeper with every movement. The chair creaks beneath you, a harsh reminder of how precarious this moment is, how easy it would be for it all to come crashing down.

The thought of being caught—of your dad just a door away, oblivious—makes it all the more intoxicating. Every thrust, every sharp inhale, feels like defiance, like daring the universe to stop you.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel rasps against your lips, his voice raw and trembling. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands sliding up to cradle his face, your thumbs brushing the rough edges of his jaw. His gaze is dark and heavy, filled with something that feels like surrender. “Then let me,” you murmur, your voice low, indecent, dripping with the weight of everything you feel.

The way you say it, the way your body moves against his, has him breaking apart beneath you, every ounce of resistance shattering. And you don’t care. Not about the consequences, not about the wrongness of it all. All you know is the way you feel wrapped around him, the way he fills you completely, and how nothing else in the world has ever felt so right.

Joel’s hands tighten on your hips as you move, his grip firm enough to leave imprints. You lean forward, your lips brushing against his jaw as he groans low in his throat, his head tipping back just enough to give you access to the sensitive skin beneath his stubble. You let your tongue flick over the pulse point there, your teeth grazing lightly.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice thick, strained, every word trembling with barely contained restraint. “You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

You pull back, your lips curving into a wicked smile, your hips rolling against his with an agonizing slowness. “I think I do,” you reply, your voice dripping with confidence, daring him to deny it.

Joel’s hands move, one sliding up your back, pressing you closer to him, while the other trails lower, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass as he guides your movements. The friction between you is dizzying, every shift of your body drawing a new groan from his lips, a new wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You’re close.

The faint murmur of your dad stirring in the room across the hall sends a jolt of adrenaline through you, the danger of being caught making everything feel sharper, more electrified. Joel’s eyes flick toward the door for the briefest moment before snapping back to you, dark and full of something primal. His jaw tightens, his breath hitches, and his fingers dig into you harder.

“You hear that?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, like a secret meant just for you. “He’s right there. You keep movin’ like that, and he’s gonna know.”

The words should stop you, should make you pull away, but instead, they send a rush of heat through you, your body responding with an involuntary shudder. “Then maybe you should stop me,” you murmur, leaning in so your lips brush against his, the challenge clear in your voice.

Joel groans, deep and guttural, his hands tightening their hold on you as he presses his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters again, but there’s no conviction in the words—only unfiltered desire.

You tilt your hips, taking him deeper, and his response is immediate—a sharp inhale, his body tensing beneath you as his control slips even further. His lips find yours again, his kiss desperate and hungry, as though he’s trying to drown out every reason this shouldn’t be happening. The rhythm between you grows frantic, your bodies moving in perfect, reckless harmony.

Every thrust, every gasp, every whispered curse is a challenge to the thin walls, to the line you’ve already crossed. And with each passing second, the tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it feels like the whole world might shatter if you stop.

“You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, his hands gripping your hips as though anchoring you to him. “Show me how pretty you are when you come for me.”

The words hit you like a lightning strike, sending a rush of heat through your body. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your body trembling as the rhythm of his thrusts drives you closer to the edge. Every thrust, each growled word, pulls you deeper into the haze of desire, until all you can feel, all you can think about, is him. 

“Joel—” you gasp, your voice breaking as your hands clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. You’re teetering on the brink, every nerve in your body alight, every sensation magnified.

“That’s it,” he rasps, his voice thick with want, his gaze locked on yours. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you tumbling over the edge. “Let go for me, darlin’. Let me see you.”

The coil snaps, your body arching against his as the wave crashes over you, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. His name falls from your lips in a broken cry, your hips stuttering against his as pleasure floods your veins. Joel doesn’t stop, his hands steadying you, his movements slower now, deliberate, as though drawing out every second of your release.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, his voice low and reverent as he watches you fall apart in his lap. His hands roam your body, grounding you, holding you steady as you come down, your breaths ragged and uneven, your heart pounding against his chest.

You bury your face in his neck, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, and his arms wrap around you like a cocoon, pulling you closer. His lips press softly against your temple, a quiet comfort in the passion you’ve just shared. For a moment, it feels like time has stopped, the two of you frozen in the intimacy of the moment.

But then his hips buck beneath you, the motion pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. The low, guttural rumble that escapes his chest vibrates against your skin, and you realize he’s right on the edge, holding on by a thread.

“Fuck, baby’,” he groans, his voice rough and strained, his hands gripping your hips tighter, guiding you to move again. His breath is hot against your ear, his words tumbling out in a desperate whisper. “I’m so close. You feel so damn good.”

You tilt your hips, rolling against him, and the sharp inhale he takes sends another thrill through you. His movements grow erratic, his restraint slipping with each thrust as he chases his release. His head falls back, his jaw tight, his hands digging into your flesh like he’s trying to hold himself together, but you both know he’s about to let go. 

“Want you to come inside me, Joel,” you say, making it clear it’s not a question.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, his voice breaking as his hips snap up one last time, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. His grip on you tightens as he groans, deep and guttural, his body shuddering beneath you. You feel him pulsing inside you, the heat of his release spreading as he collapses back into the chair, his breaths ragged and uneven.

A cough from the room across the hall breaks the silence, snapping you both back to reality. The thin walls feel even thinner now, and the weight of what just happened settles in the air between you. For a moment, you hesitate, but then you tug your jeans back on, not even caring about the mess on your thighs.

Joel silently adjusts himself, his belt clinking faintly as he fastens it. Neither of you speaks, the charged quiet holding the moment in place, too fragile to break with words. His eyes follow you as you move.

You step toward him, your heart still racing, and lean down to press a kiss to his cheek. His stubble is rough against your lips, and the faint way his breath hitches sends a small thrill through you.

“See you in the morning, Cowboy,” you whisper, your voice soft and sweet, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

His hand brushes lightly against your arm as you pull back, a touch so brief it’s barely there, but enough to make your pulse jump again. He nods, his gaze lingering as you slip toward your bed, your legs still unsteady beneath you.

As you settle under the blanket, your heart refusing to slow and your body still humming with the aftermath of him, you hear the faint creak of his chair as he shifts. You don’t need to look to know he’s still there, watching, caught in the same storm you are.

JOEL

Fuck.

END

A/N Continued: To my darling moots that I have left on read lately, I'm sorry. I love you guys, I just haven't had a lot of emotional or mental bandwidth to be a good conversationalist. I miss you all and will try to be better.x

To be notified when I post fics, please follow my notifications blog @katiexpunkupdates.

Tags (lmk if you want to be removed! No hard feelings if so, ily guys.) // @legendary-pink-dot @syd-djarin @mermaidgirl30 @yxtkiwiyxt @survivingandenduring // @pastawench @punkshort @alltheirdamn @hellishjoel @hotgirlbedtimescenarios

// @miller-n-morgan-2 @clawdee @penvisions @darkheartgatita @pinkbowsandcoffeestains // @magpiepills @punkshort @tightjeansjavi @covetyou @morallyinept

[anyalc0h0lic]

📷 Pedro Pascal by Norman Jean Roy

[anyalc0h0lic]

Chapter 21- Paradise

Summary: Now that you and Javi are married, it's time for you to enjoy two weeks of nothing but your three favorite "S's"- Sun, sand, and sex. Lots of Sex.

Word Count: 13.9K

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving) vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (WHOOPS), stopping birth control/starting a family, kind of semi-public sex (sex on the beach hehe), alcohol/drinking (y'all are getting wasted at the pool), I'm convinced these two can't have sex without getting caught (sorry, Chucho), Javi in a bathing suit, these two are so stupidly in love

A/N: ..... Hey.... Y'all remember when I actually wrote for this story.... 😭 I'm genuinely SO sorry that this chapter took me literal months to finish, but she is finally here!!! Thank you so much for all of your patience and the love you've shown these two even in this story's absence 🥺 I hope you enjoy these two horndogs on their honeymoon!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“We have all of our bags?” 

“Yup.” 

“Passports?” 

“Mhmmmm.” 

“Plane tickets?” 

“Yes.” 

“We’re positive that we have-” 

“Baby, I promise, I triple checked everything this morning, it’s all waiting by the front door, all we have to do now is just wait for my dad to pick us up and take us to the airport, and all my wife needs to do is take a deep breath and relax.” 

My wife. 

Even though you had been married for less than 24 hours, you knew the sentiment of finally getting to be Javi’s wife wasn’t wearing off on you any time soon. 

Javi smiled, playfully crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at you as you ran through your honeymoon inventory again, knowing damn well you looked like a fool in your frantic pre-traveling state. You more than trusted that Javi had everything the two of you needed before you left for the airport, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that you felt like you were forgetting something, despite all your checks and re-checks. 

“Well, your wife will be much more relaxed once we land after being trapped in a flying tin can and have two feet on the ground again.” You sighed, trying not to let your fear of flying override your excitement to finally arrive in the Bahamas later that day. “God, I feel like I forgot to pack something important but I can’t figure out what.” 

As you stared in frustration at your pile of suitcases, you could feel Javi sneaking behind you, flushing his chest to your back as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder, planting a soft kiss on your temple. 

“I think I know what it is.” Javi smirked, his kisses traveling down your jaw as he nipped at your ear, making you turn your head back toward him in confusion. 

“Oh, so now you’re a husband and a mind reader. That honestly will come in very handy.” You teased, giggling while you shifted around to face him, draping his arms around his neck as his hands traveled down your waist, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. “Jesus Javi, what in the world am I forgetting, because you seem pretty darn happy I can’t remember it.” 

“You really don’t know?” Javi asked, almost mockingly, tightening his grip around your hips, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, the hot words of his breath dancing across your skin. 

“No, Mr. Mind Reader, I don’t, and you’re making it very hard to concentrate and figure out what it is.” 

You were trying your best to genuinely let your brain run out its train of thought, but as Javi’s kisses across your collarbone became wetter and sloppier, trying to form any sort of coherent idea was practically impossible. 

Javi paused for a moment, reaching both hands up to cusp your face, his broad hands cradling your jaw as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks, looking up at him to see the boyish grin spread from cheek to cheek. 

“You’re forgetting something because you’re forgetting to bring it on purpose. Something we threw away this morning, remember?” 

Oh shit. 

You were forgetting something. Only, now that you finally remembered what it was, you couldn’t be happier that you had forgotten it. 

Your birth control. 

As Javi watched your face quickly fade from confusion to delight, your grin was just about as wide as his, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. 

The two of you could actually start trying for a baby. 

“You remember now?” Javi teased, laughing to himself at how wide your eyes had gone, practically beaming from the inside out at your husband, feeling butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat building in your core. 

Leaning up, your mouth met Javi’s in a sloppy dance of tongues and teeth, lips crashing together in electric excitement, grabbing a fistfull of the fitted green t-shirt covering his chest and tugging him closer towards you. 

“How much longer until your dad is supposed to be here?” You rasped, already breathing heavily from your frantic kisses and anticipation. 

Quickly, Javi looked down at his watch wrapped around his wrist, the gears turn in his brain, calculating if the two of you had enough time to do what he knew you were proposing. 

“Fuck- Like, 40 minutes?” 

Without saying a word, both of you agreed in silent, rushed nods that 40 minutes was enough time to give yourself enough of a buffer, and the risk definitely didn’t outweigh the reward, knowing there was no way in hell that you could wait an entire plane ride and arriving at your hotel room to fuck. 

In an instant, your mouths were crashing together again, Javi grabbing the underside of your thighs to hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you back towards the couch in the living room, the back of his knees hitting the sofa as he collapsed into his seat, you still straddling his lap without ever parting your lips. 

Javi’s hands crept below the hem of your shirt, shuffling it over your head and tossing it on the floor before shuffling your shorts and underwear off to join your top in a crumpled pile on the floor. Your hands worked rapidly at the waistband of Javi’s shorts, lifting up off his lap to push them down his thighs, revealing the hard and weeping mess his cock had already become since carrying you over to the couch, your cunt aching at the sight of his length and how desperately you wanted to be filled by it. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad.” You whimpered between your wet kisses, shifting yourself closer to hover over his dick, so turned on that you were convinced that your arousal was already dripping down your thighs at an embarrassing rate. 

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.” Javi groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the sensation at the pads of his fingers rubbing over your clit, throbbing and aching under his touch. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” 

Reaching down to wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking it a few times, you slowly lowered yourself down onto his tip, knowing that with your limited time and how turned on you were, you didn’t want to feel anything besides the sweet sting of Javi’s stretch filling you to the brim. 

The two of you moaned in unison as you sank down on his length, bottoming out until you had taken every inch of him, taking a second to adjust to his size before rolling your hips over his lap in figure eights. 

“F-fuck, you feel so good, Javi.” You whined, circling your bottom half faster, the friction of the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously against your clit combined with Javi groping at your breasts, sucking at one of your pebbled nipples while he rolled the other between his fingers, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 

Javi began to let his hips rut up into yours, thrusting his length deeper into your cunt as you rode him, his hands sliding down the sides of your body and wrapping around your ass, massaging the plump flesh between his fingers while his lips crashed into yours again, catching each other’s muffled moans. 

“F-fuck…”  Javi whined, tightening his grip to try and maintain his composure as his thoughts began to flow straight from his brain through his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, Osita. Fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you grow our our kid and give us our perfect family.” 

“Oh my god- fuck- yes. Please, Javi. Fuck, I want you to knock me up. I wanna- fuck- I wanna  make you a daddy.” You moaned, running your hands through the dark curls of Javi’s hair as he began to pound into you even harder, his fingertips gripping your hips with bruising intensity as he guided you up and down his cock, the two of you both so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t heard a faintly familiar voice echoing from the front door. 

“Javi, Mija, I know I’m a little early but I figured you’d rather get to the airport earlier than later!” 

Little did poor Chucho know that today was one of the few times in his life that he would regret showing up anywhere earlier than expected. 

Surprised by the lack of response, despite the packed and stacked bags waiting by the front door, an unsuspecting Chucho kicked off his boots and began meandering down the entryway towards your living room, where and even more unsuspecting you and Javi were half dressed and sprawled across your couch trying to make a baby. 

“Javier? Mija? Are you two ready to leave soon? I was hoping that- Oh Dios Mio!” 

“AHHHHHHH!” 

With Javi’s back to his dad as you sat in his lap, you were the first to lock eyes with your now father-in-law, your jaw practically falling to the floor as you let out a panicked shriek, causing Javi to whip his own head around, terror running through his veins as he frantically threw you off his lap and tried to cover the both of you with the nearest blanket he could find. 

“Jesus Christ, Pops!” Javi shouted, hands covering his face that had turned bright red in quite possibly the world's worst kind of embarrassment. “Why are you here so early?! Please just, I- I don’t know, for Christ’s sake, please go wait outside!” He sighed, pointing towards the front door where Chucho had just regrettably entered from. 

“How was I supposed to know!? I figured I would be safe! Say no more, I will just go wait on the front porch. Aye, aye, aye…” Chucho replied, quickly scampering away towards the door, eyes peeled to the ground and arms up in self-defense, waiting until you heard the soft slam and clicking lock behind him before peering out from underneath your blanket shield. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, hands still covering his face as you looked up at him, cheeks glowing beet red in embarrassment. 

“Please don’t tell me your dad just walked in on us having sex…” You winced, absolutely knowing the answer to your question, but still somehow praying that maybe, just maybe, you were imaging things. 

“... My dad definitely just walked in on us having sex.” Javi sighed, his face as almost as red as yours, scrambling to find your clothes scattered between the cushions, tossing them over to you, frantically trying to cover yourself up to save any ounce of dignity you had left. 

“Well, looks like I am going to start walking to the airport because I don’t think I can ever make eye contact with your dad again…” You muttered, making you and Javi laugh just enough to try and ease the uncomfortable tension, wondering how in the world you were supposed to spend an entire ride to the airport with Chucho without wanting to crawl out of your skin. “I thought you said he was supposed to get here later!”

“Well that’s what I thought too, but apparently not!” Javi grumbled, shuffling his shirt over his head, combing his hand through his hair to try and fix the mess you had made raking your fingers through it. 

“Guess we won’t have any worries about getting to the airport on time…” 

“Guess you’re right about that. Fuck me…” 

“Sure you don’t wanna start walking?” 

While Chucho, you and Javi had seemingly made a silent pact to not say a peep to each other the entire car ride for the duration of your drive, every passing second seemed more awkward and uncomfortable than the last, truly regretting your decision to not grab your bags and walk along the highway to try and catch your flight. 

It wasn’t until Chucho began pulling up to drop the two of you off that he decided it was time to break your truce, his eyes meeting yours in the rear view mirror as the two of you sat awkwardly in the backseat, bracing yourself the moment you could feel his mouth begin to open. 

“You know, the night of our wedding, Lucia and I just couldn’t keep our hands off each other either, it was so-” 

“Dad!” Javi interjected, his face physically scrunching in pain at the thought of how his father planned to complete the rest of that thought, trying to cut him off before he could get any further. 

“Lo siento (Sorry)! God forbid I try to do something to ease the tension!” Chucho chuckled, throwing his hands up in defense at his statement. 

“I don’t think where you were headed was the way to do that, Pops.” Javi muttered, letting out another deep sigh of embarrassment. 

 “Well lucky for you, it looks like we’re here.” Chucho smiled, pulling into one of the parking spots outside of your gate and turning off the ignition. “Here, let me help you with the bags in the trunk and-” 

“Nope, already got it, Pops, please do not get out of the car.” Javi begged, practically sprinting out of the backseat to the trunk, you quickly following behind him, beginning to sheepishly unload your luggage from the car. 

Of course, Chucho being Chucho was not about to take no for an answer, slowly fumbling his way out of the car to greet the two of you at the trunk with a mischievous grin stretched ear to ear. 

“Pops, please, I told you I’ve got it, I-” 

“Oh hush, Javier, I am just coming out to say goodbye, yo promento (I promise).” Chucho laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder, giving him a little shake. 

“Bye Chucho.” You grimaced, leaning in reluctantly for a hug. “Thanks for dropping us off. S-sorry about earlier.” You couldn’t help but wince again, eyes darting to the ground at your last sentence. 

“Oh mija, don’t apologize. Could be worse.” 

“I’m not really sure how it could be…” You whispered under your breath, just loud enough for Javi to hear, making him hold back a snort. 

“Besides, I think this bodes well for my bet I have placed.” Chucho smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as the two of you looked at him in confusion, 

“Your bet?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at his dad. 

“Mhmmm. The bet between me, your family, Mija, and the Murphy’s.” 

“As much as I love a vague and cryptic guessing game, any chance you’re gonna tell us what that bet is?” You laughed uncomfortably, looking back between Javi and Chucho. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Mija. I think the two of you will know soon enough. Okay, enough of that! I will let the two of you go. Have a safe flight and a wonderful trip. I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. Enjoy your first of your many amazing adventures as a married couple.” 

While you couldn’t deny you still weren’t far off from wanting to find the nearest hole and disappear in, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sentiment of Chucho’s well-wishes, placing your hand in Javi’s and squeezing it tight, beaming up at your husband with love and excitement. 

“Thanks, Pops.” 

“Claro (of course). Alright, mijos, adios. Have fun. But not too much fun, if you know what I-” 

“Yup, we know exactly what you mean, bye, Dad!” Javi grunted, gently turning his father around and pushing him back towards the car making him laugh, giving the both of you one last wave goodbye before disappearing down the road. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m glad that’s over…” Javi sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You can say that again. What bet do you think he was talking about?” 

“Honestly, no fucking clue. And truth be told, right now, I couldn’t care less. Because right now,” He paused, leaning down to hold your cheek in his palm, forcing your gaze up at him, “all I care about,” he paused once again, planting a playful kiss on your lips, “is getting my beautiful wife onto this plane so we can start our honeymoon.” 

“Say it again.” You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him back. 

“My wife. My beautiful, amazing, drop dead gorgeous wife, who has single-handedly made me the luckiest man in the entire world.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as his grip tightened around you, making you giggle. 

“Easy there, Romeo, we still have a whole flight to get through, ya know.” 

Fortunately, your flight and arrival to the Bahamas was much less eventful than anything that had happened this morning, the embarrassment of your father-in-law’s unfortunate timing quickly fading away as you strolled up to the front desk to check into your room for the next ten days of nothing but what you had deemed your three favorite “S’s”- 

Sun, sand, and sex. 

Lots of sex. 

“Hi there! Welcome! My name is Cassandra, how can I help the two of you today?” A woman smiled politely from behind the check-in desk, quickly clacking away at her keyboard. 

“Hi. We’re checking in for Peña.” Javi beamed, grabbing your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over both sets of rings wrapped around your finger, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever get used to the fact he was lucky enough to get to call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

“Perfect! Let me get right on that.” She nodded, fingers tapping across the keys as she looked up your information. “Any special reason for your stay here?” 

“Honeymoon.” The two of you answered in sync, laughing to yourselves at your well timed response. 

“Well why didn’t you say that to begin with?! Let me see if I have anything I can upgrade you to for your stay!” Cassandra scoffed, almost comedically offended that your opening line hadn’t been “It’s our honeymoon, upgrade our room please!” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Oh, honey, please. This is my favorite part of my job. Absolutely the least I can do for the two of you. Congratulations. Just give me one second here and…. Ah! Yes! I thought this one was available. Let’s upgrade you to the Ocean View King Suite. This one is one of my favorite rooms. You get the most beautiful view of the sunrise right from your balcony!” 

You and Javi looked at each other beaming, grins plastered across your faces in surprise. “Thank you so much, this is so nice of you to do for us.” You smiled. 

“Of course. Least that I can do. Like I said, it’s one of the highlights of doing this job. Alright, well, here are your room keys!” Cassandra grinned, passing the key cards and room information over the concierge desk and handing them to you and Javi. “If you head over to your right, there’s a bay of elevators that will take you to your room. I hope that you two have a wonderful stay, and enjoy your honeymoon!” 

“Thank you again, we really appreciate it.” Javi nodded, stuffing things into his pocket before leaning down to give you a kiss and reaching back to grab his suitcase and your hand in his. 

As Javi turned, leading the two of you towards the elevator, you couldn’t help but laugh at Cassandra’s face, her eyebrow playfully raised and head nodding in approval, pointing at Javi and giving you a thumbs up, as if you needed more confirmation that you had made a top-tier choice on the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. 

“What’s so funny?” Javi smirked, tilting his head in confusion at your giggles as the two of you stepped into the elevator with the small crowd of people on their way back to their hotel rooms. 

“Nothing. Just some reassurance that I cleaned up pretty damn well in the husband department, which I can’t say I disagree with.” You snickered, reaching up to wrap your hand around his jaw, squeezing his cheeks in your grasp. 

“You’re such a dork, you know that?” 

“A dork who is now your wife, thank you very much.” You sassed, crossing your arms over your chest, making the two of you laugh quietly to yourselves until the ding of the elevator caught your attention. “Oh! I think this is us!” Quickly scrambling to grab your suitcase, you dashed out of the elevator as the doors parted, followed by Javi, trying to keep up with your excited pace. 

“Alright, Mrs. Dork, we’re room 2331.” Javi grinned, pulling the information from the front desk out of his pocket, scanning the hallway for rooms approaching your number, watching you search in front of him with detective-like accuracy. 

“Okay, let’s see, 2329… 2330… Here! Here it is! 2331!” You beamed, showing off the number of your room Vanna White style to Javi as he began to slip the room key into the card reader, pausing for a moment to stare at you with his sweet brown eyes in the midst of your goofiness. “What’s that look for?” You teased, smiling back at him. 

“Just reminding myself of how lucky I am. I love you, Mrs. Peña.” 

Mrs. Peña. 

You couldn’t help but let your heart skip a beat at the sound of him saying it, still not quite sure that the incredible reality of your new last name had completely sunk in with you yet. 

“I love you too, Mr. Peña. Now, you gonna open this door so we can put this room to use or what?” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at him playfully, gesturing towards your hotel room door. 

With a quick swipe of your room key the two of you unlocked your door to get a first glimpse of your hotel room. At first, the both of you were convinced you must have been in the wrong place, because this was the most beautiful, luxurious hotel room that you had ever laid eyes on. Complete with a giant king bed covered in fresh white sheets, free standing tub, huge couch and living room area, newly renovated, and most impressively, a huge set of sliding glass doors that lead to your balcony overlooking a breath-taking view of the beach and ocean below you. 

Mental note to self- you owed Cassandra at the big desk the biggest thank you ever. 

“Holy shit, Javi. This is gorgeous.” You muttered to yourself, dropping your bags off at one of the closets at the front of the room as you began to wander and explore, gently poking and prodding around as if you were a tourist in a museum, rather than a hotel guest in your own room. 

“It’s got no lack of options, that’s for sure.” Javi laughed quietly to himself, following behind you as he set down his own bags before doing an investigation of his own, the majority of which was spent watching you excitedly explore the in’s and outs of your new home for the next 10 days. 

“No lack of options?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion, as you turned towards Javi, hands resting on his hips with a smug grin spread from ear to ear. 

“Mmmhmmm.” He replied, making his way towards you until his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest to force your gaze up at his brown eyes, pooling with an equal combination of excitement and mischief. “No lack of options in this room for places I get to fuck my beautiful wife.” 

“You’re so bad!” You teased, giving him a little slap to his chest as the two of you laughed, knowing that you had the exact same thought, he was just the first to say it. 

“Oh c’mon, like you didn’t think the same thing.” 

“Okay listen… you’re not wrong. I would be a liar if I didn’t walk in here and think about how many different furniture choices we could fuck on before we had to leave.” You sighed in a playful defeat, your breaths slowly transforming to light and giggly to low and needy as Javi slid his hands resting on your hips down to your ass, palming it in his grasp. 

Craning his head down to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but moan as he sucked at your pulse point, wet kisses consuming your neck and jawline as a damp patch began to pool in your underwear, falling apart under Javi’s touch. 

“Well if that’s the case, what should we break in first, Osita? What does mi esposa (my wife) want? ” Javi hummed, slipping his hands under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pushing them over your hips and down your legs until they pooled around your ankles, leaving your bottom half bare. 

Snaking his hand between your bodies, you whimpered as his fingers ghosted over your core, grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you shutter in anticipation, feeling the slick of your arousal beginning to coat your thighs with want and need. 

“F-fuck-” You stammered, trying to string together anything that resembled a coherent thought, “The b-bed. Fuck me on the bed, baby, please.” 

Without another word, Javi had scooped you up under your thighs, forcing your legs to lock around his waist as he carried you toward the bed, mouths crashing together in a hungry mess of tongues and teeth. 

Javi set you down, gently laying your back on the bed just enough to let your lower half hang off the edge so he could make a home between your legs, draping each one over his shoulders and pushing them open further to reveal the wet, puffy mess in between your thighs. 

You should have been embarrassed with how worked up you already were from a few kisses and some ass grabbing, but with how excited you were to be here with your husband, without a worry in the world besides how many times you could disrespect your hotel room before you had to leave, you had no shame in how you were already dripping with anticipation as Javi’s eyes locked on your core. 

“Fuck, she’s so pretty.” Javi cooed, admiring the glistening sheen of your slick covering your folds, planting gentle kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your center. You sat up on your elbows to watch as Javi’s fingers lazily traced your cunt, collecting your arousal, rubbing with just enough pressure to make your clit throb even harder than it already had been. “Always so wet for me, Hermosa. My perfect wife. Fuck, I still can’t believe you’re all mine forever.” 

“Forever.” You whimpered, breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s tongue dragged across your core with a broad, flat stroke, looking up at you with those devastatingly sweet, chocolate brown eyes, pulling off you with the look you knew all too well meant you were absolutely a goner. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby.” Javi hummed, carefully bringing two fingers to your core, sinking them inside your weeping hole to prod steadily against your g-spot 

“Oh my god, fuck-” You whimpered, Javi working at a painstakingly slow pace that still had you writhing under his touch, his mouth and fingers moving in the perfect combination of pressure to already have a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine despite the fact he had just started eating you out. 

Your jaw went slack as his digits prodded faster, his tongue swirling and flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves, ragged moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, growing louder and more wonton by the second. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi cooed, pulling off you just enough to catch your attention, his fingers never faltering in pace, “Fuck, I could listen to you like this all day, Osita. All the pretty noises my wife makes just for me. C’mon, baby. You want everyone here to know who makes you feel this good, huh? Tell them, sweet girl, who makes you feel this good?” 

“Y-you, Javi, fuck- You do, baby.” You moaned, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around Javi’s fingers as his smug smirk pressed back against your cunt, now sucking at your clit with a ferocious switch intensity he knew would send you over the edge in an instant. 

Squeezing Javi’s head between your thighs, you cried out louder, chanting his name like a prayer with each second you grew closer and closer to your end, feeling arousal creeping through your body at a rapid rate. 

“Javi, Javi, fuck- Oh, baby, Javi, I’m gonna- gonnaahhhhhhh-” 

In an instant, your orgasm crashed through you, filling you with all consuming pleasure that had you seeing stars, sobbing out as your cunt clamped down around Javi’s fingers that were pulsing inside you through your high. 

At this point, you were probably close to suffocating your poor husband, but it was his own damn fault for knowing how to make you cum so hard, your soul just about left your body. 

Finally regaining enough inhibition, you let your legs fall open, freeing Javi from the thigh prison he had trapped himself in, still smirking with delight despite his red face and shortness of breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Osita.” He laughed, standing up as he began to shed his clothes, tossing his shirt and shorts in a crumpled pile on the floor, followed by his already tented and stained boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, slapping against his stomach and bobbing between his legs as it was freed. “You tryin’ to kill me, baby?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You huffed, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths as you came down from your high. “Sorry, not my fault you make me cum so hard I put you in a headlock between my legs.” 

You and Javi both couldn’t help but laugh as he helped you slide further up the bed, crawling over you and caging you under his broad body, peppering every inch of your body with kisses and intentionally tickling you with his mustache in all the places he knew made you giggle the most. 

“If I die between my wife’s thighs buried face deep in her pussy, I’d die a happy man.” 

“Well I have no plans on intentionally murdering you on this trip, so count yourself safe this time, Peña.” 

“Baby, I’m convinced you’re just trying to kill me slowly this entire trip, considering you have nothing packed in your suitcase besides bikinis and sundresses.” Javi sighed, arms planted around your head as he laid overtop of you, kissing up your collarbone and neck, all the way up your jawline. 

“Javier Peña, we are literally on a tropical vacation to the Bahamas. Would you have liked me to pack, a parka and snow pants?” You teased, breath hitching in the back of your throat between giggles, trying to maintain your composure between the wet, hot kisses, Javi was planting across your skin. 

“No,” He grumbled, “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever fucking met, baby, you don’t think people aren’t staring at you everywhere you go? I can’t fucking blame ‘em, but they better notice that ring on your finger and know you’re off limits.” 

Heat crept through your cheeks, butterflies swirling in your stomach from what he had said, picking up on the notion behind his thoughts. Javi wasn’t a jealous man, but fuck, was he a protective one, and God help any man who tried to knowingly make a move on you while he was around. 

He wanted everyone to know you were his, and you just as badly wanted everyone to know he was yours. 

“Maybe just the ring isn’t enough, baby.” He smirked, nipping and tugging at your skin with his teeth as he snaked his hand between your bodies to stroke himself and line his cock up with your entrance. “‘Cause you know what else isn’t in your suitcase?” 

Your birth control. 

You didn’t have to say a word to know exactly what Javi meant, your face swelling with a mixture of excitement and want. 

“Javi, oh fuck-” You moaned, cut off by the sweet sting of Javi pushing into you, filling you up with every inch of himself until he had bottomed out, stalling for a moment to let you adjust to his fullness before slowly dragging his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“Maybe,” he groaned, biting down on his lip at just how good you felt around him, warmth and wetness coating his length with each stroke, “Maybe that ring on your finger isn’t enough, Ostia. Maybe once they see you pregnant with our baby growing inside you, they’ll know you’re mine.” 

It never failed to amaze you just how Javi knew how to make you short circuit with words alone, hoping the entire resort didn’t hear the absolutely pathetic whimper you let out at the idea of finally carrying his baby, showing off your family to the world, and the man who had given it to you.  

“Fuck, knock me up Javi. Wanna- wanna make you a daddy.” You whined, wrapping your arm up around his neck, running your fingers through his dark and sweaty curls, tugging him closer to you until your mouths were molded in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. 

“Christ- Yeah, baby girl? Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you, it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take. Keep you stuffed with my cum every day until it sticks.” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pushing them to your chest and pulling you closer to him so your back began to arch, giving himself the perfect angle to split you open and keep every last drop inside of you. 

You could feel every inch of Javi filling you, perfectly punching against that soft, spongy spot inside your cunt with each thrust, keeping your thighs still pressed against your chest as the lower half of your legs wrapped around the small of Javi’s back, ankles locking together to keep him as close and deep inside you as you could. 

“Dámelo, papi.” You cooed, wicked smile stretched from ear to ear watching Javi physically having to stop himself to let out a strangled groan, clenching his jaw and scrunching his face to keep from busting right then and there.  

“Jesus, fuck-” Javi grunted, finally gaining enough composure to open his eyes and look back down at you beneath him, smugly smirking, “That’s how this is gonna go, huh?"

The chocolate brown of Javi’s eyes began to darken with lust, dragging his cock out and ramming into you so deeply, a pathetic whimper fell from your lips, nearly knocking the wind out of your chest feeling him practically in your stomach. Your whimpers quickly turned to sobs as he did it again, slowly dragging his length out of your wet, warm walls before pounding back in to you with a blinding intensity. 

Leaning down, Javi grabbed your arms, pushing them outstretched above your head until your wrists were crossed over each other and Javi had them both in his firm grasp, pinning you to the bed with the weight of his body and grip. It was like something feral had ignited inside him, brow furrowed and teeth gritted with a laser focus, snapping his hips to thrust himself deeper and harder, melting you to a helpless puddle beneath him, your cries of pleasure and desperation only egging him on more. 

“You want me to fill you up, baby? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take every last fucking drop. Every. Last. One.” He huffed, syncing his words to each thrust, keeping a bruising grip over your wrists with one hand, and digging his fingertips into the meat of your hips with his other. “Tell me what you’re gonna do for me, baby girl. Tell me whose pussy this is.” 

“It’s yours, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- it’s yours, baby! I- oh shit- I promise I’ll be a good girl and take it all. Want you to fill me up, Papi.” You sobbed, arousal seeping through your veins as Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot over and over, each stroke faster and more intense, blinding your body with pleasure. 

Your hotel room was drenched in the borderline pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin, wet squelching of your pussy squeezing Javi’s cock tighter and tighter as you could feel the coil beginning to tighten in your stomach, crying out without any inhibition for your volume, Javi grunting and panting with equal intensity. 

“That’s my girl. You gonna let everyone hear who this pussy belongs to? Let everyone know that I’m gonna fill you up and get you pregnant?” Javi mewled, watching the way your eyes were nearly rolling in the back of your head, snaking his hand gripping your hip down between your bodies to rub firm and frantic circles around your clit to help push you over the edge knowing how close you were. 

As soon as the calloused pads of Javi’s fingers were pressed against your sensitive nub, you were seconds away from the brink of collapse, cunt clamping tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, choking it with your velvety walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, I’m so close baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, fuckfuckfuckfuck!” 

Instantly, your orgasm crashed through your body, blinding white heat flooding your vision, pleasure shooting through every inch of you to the point you felt like you had left your own body. You could feel your body going limp beneath Javi, knowing he wasn’t far behind you given all his tell tale signs as you soaked his length with your arousal. 

Javi’s thrusts had forgone any type of rhythm, now sloppy and erratic, his balls tightening and tensing in his stomach, babbling and moaning in your ear, whispering sweet nothings before he found himself in the same state of you. 

“That’s it, hermosa. Cum all over my cock. Cum all over me before I fill up this tight little pussy so full it’s got no choice but to take. Oh fuck- Fuck, can’t wait to get you pregnant. See you carrying our baby. Gonna make you the prettiest fucking Momma-ahhhhhhh, fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Javi was painting the inside of your cunt with thick, warm ropes of his spend, keeping himself flushed as tight as he could to your pelvis, making sure a single drop didn’t escape as he plugged you with his cock, cumming so hard he couldn’t help but whimper. The weight of his body slumped on top of you, syncing your heavy breaths, the sticky and sweaty sheen of your chests pressed together as Javi planted a slow and sensual kiss on your lips, swallowing your moans in his mouth. 

“Holy fuck.” You half whispered to yourself, letting out a bliss-filled giggle.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Javi panted, quietly laughing along with you, gently brushing the damp and wild strands of your hair out of your face, “Fuck- You gotta be careful with that “Papi” shit, Osita.” 

“Oh yeah? And why would that be?” You teased, smirking as you raised an eyebrow at him and bit down on your lip, knowing damn well why. 

“Because if you keep that up, I don’t think we’re ever leaving this room.” 

After dinner and giving a few more pieces of furniture in your hotel room a good test run, the two of you had happily called it a night on day one of your honeymoon, eager to explore the rest of the resort as the two of you rose with the golden rays of the sun beaming over the horizon of your ocean view window, flooding your room with warm and welcoming sunlight. 

As much as the both of you were convinced you could have easily spent the next 10 days without leaving your hotel room, you made a pact that you would spend some time going to explore the rest of the resort after spending some much deserved post-wedding de-stressing in the sun by the pool, drinking as many mojitos and frozen daiquiris as you could stomach. 

And as amazing as non-stop sex with Javi would have been, soaking up in the sun poolside with a drink on one side of you and a shirtless husband on the other, you’d say that this was a pretty close second. 

“Another one?” Javi smirked, eyebrows raised at you as his brown eyes peeked over the edge of his aviators, gesturing at your nearly empty glass. 

“I mean… if you’re offering.” You giggled, tipsy after a few drinks and hours baking in the sun, happily holding out the remainder of your mojito for Javi to exchange for a new one. 

“I think the bartender and I are about to be on a first name basis pretty soon.” Javi laughed, shuffling out of his beach chair, grabbing his empty cup along with yours to bring back with him to the poolside bar that had been visited a questionable amount of times by the two of you since you had gotten to the pool this morning. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna tell the bartender the frozen strawberry margaritas you’ve been getting from him all day are for you and not for your wife?” You teased, pulling your sunglasses down to look at Javi, playfully rolling his eyes back at you. 

“Shut up. They’re fucking addicting. You had one, can you blame me?” 

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mr. I Won’t Drink Anything But Beer and Whiskey. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Although, I’m sure Steve would get a kick out of knowing you’ve downed like, 7 of these since we’ve gotten here.” 

Setting down both of the drinks, you found yourself in a fit of squeals and giggles as Javi reached down to scoop you up out of your chair, carrying you bridal style to the edge of the pool before jumping in with the both of you, the refreshing cool of the pool water crashing over you as your bodies bobbed under the surface. 

“Pendejo!” You laughed, splashing Javi as your heads peered above the edge of the water, Javi shaking his hair, damp and clinging to his forehead from your added assault, grabbing you by the waist before you could go any further, shifting you to wrap your legs around him as he held you, childishly swaying you through the water. 

“Te amo, esposa.” (I love you, wife) Javi teased in a mocking tone, responding to your name calling. 

“Joke’s on you, because I wanted to get into the pool anyways. You’re lucky you’re handsome. Mojito me, Peña.” You splashed again, rolling your eyes at his over exaggerated kiss before he swam away, shooting you a wink while he waded his way to the poolside bar. 

It wasn’t long before Javi was making his way back, a drink in each hand, happily handing you your mojito as he got to the edge of the pool where you were sitting, lifting himself up to sit beside you and take a swig of his margarita. 

“Miss me?” He smirked, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Terribly. Most agonizing 6 minutes of my entire life.” You teased, playing into the dramatics as Javi picked up your left hand, admiring the diamond ring and wedding band adorned on your finger before gently kissing it. 

“Sorry to keep my wife waiting. I hope that you’ll accept this mojito as a token of my apology.” 

“I think that’s a fair enough compromise.” 

After a few more hours and several drinks later, it was safe to say that you and Javi had definitely both been in better states than you currently were, too far gone to care about the potential consequences of tomorrow’s hangover to stop yourselves. 

“What time do you think it is?” You asked, sunkissed body sprawled out across the pool chair. 

“Wife O’Clock.” Javi answered, snickering to himself at his answer. 

“Javier Peña, that’s not a real time, you dork.” 

“Half past mojito. A quarter ‘til my next margarita.” 

“Jesus Christ….” You paused, one of the life guards crossing behind you catching your attention, “Hey, excuse me! Do you know what time it is?” 

“Uhhhhh, looks like it’s almost 6!” The lifeguard replied, looking down at his watch before continuing on his path. 

“6?! Oh shit!” You gasped, sitting up straight in your chair. 

“What? What’s happening at 6?!” Javi inquired, seemingly less concerned with whatever was supposed to be happening then that had you so riled up. 

“Javi, we're supposed to be at dinner right now! We made reservations at that italian place, remember?!” You grimaced, frantically starting to grab the towels and clothes you had scattered around the pool deck. 

“Oh fuck! Shit, uh- okay, here, lemme help you!” Javi joined in on the gathering of any item that belonged to you that he could find, tossing it into the bag you had brought down with you, hoping that you didn’t forget anything that had come with you to the pool. 

While the haphazard gathering of items was a good enough sign to any onlooker that you and Javi were more than likely intoxicated, the both of you didn’t realized just how drunk you were until you both tried to stand up out of your beach chairs, grabbing on to each other in a wobbly dance of giggles.  

“Woah, I think I drank a little lotta margaritas.” Javi stammered, laughing to himself. 

“Fuck, I did too. Jesus, how many do you think we had?” You giggled, face scrunching in anticipation of the number that was definitely going to be higher than you had intended when you came to the pool this morning. 

You could see Javi trying to drunkenly calculate his trips to the pool bar in his head, counting across his fingers in a serious concentration, tongue sticking out of his mouth, as if it was going to help him focus better. 

“Let’s see, I think after adding them all up… We drank a lot.” 

“If we can’t even come up with a number, that’s not good. Fuck, I didn’t even bring real clothes! Our room is so far from the restaurant, there’s no way we’re even gonna be close to making it!” You pouted, shrugging your shoulders in defeat. 

“Just put on the cute little dressy thingy over your bathing suit. Or just go in your bikini. You’re so hot they have to let you in.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as he looked you up and down, giving you his best drunken attempt at his bedroom eyes. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think the other patrons of this resort want to watch me eat pasta half naked, ya sicko.” You teased, giving him a nudge to his stomach a little harder than you had intended. “Okay, cover up will have to do, I guess. Do you have your shirt?” 

“You don’t wanna watch me eat pasta half naked?” 

“As much as I’d love to, maybe another time, weirdo. Okay, we have to go! Or else we’re not getting any pasta, naked or not! Focus, Peña, focus!” You commanded in your best pretend stern voice, grabbing the rest of your things in your hands while Javi stood there, admiring you like the drunken, lovesick fool he was. 

“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re bossy.” Javi smirked, raising his eyebrows at you, “Okay, fine, fine fine, let’s go. Lead the way, Mrs. Peña.” 

If you didn’t feel drunk enough after simply trying just to stand up out of your pool chairs and collect all your belongings within a 5 foot radius of you, you sure as hell did trying to drunkenly navigate the resort to find the restaurant you were looking for. After asking several employees, you somehow managed to stumble your way through the hotel to find your intended location, “Ciao!” , one of the higher-end dining experiences the two of you had planned for your vacation. 

“Hi. We are married, and we are here to eat pasta.” Javi proclaimed to the hostess at the front of the restaurant, who was looking back and forth between you and Javi, riddled with confusion not only by Javi’s opening statement, but from the fact the two of you were nearly out of breath from running around every inch of the resort, clearly drunk, and still dressed in your swimsuits. 

“Ummmm, okay? What’s the name on the reservation?” The hostess asked hesitantly, flipping through the pages of names and times written down for seating tonight. 

“Peña. We were supposed to be here at 6 but we had a lil too much fun at the pool, but not enough fun that we completely forgot about dinner! We’re really sorry!” You explained, trying your best to keep your composure, biting your tongue to subdue your drunken giggles. 

“Yeah, like, so sorry. I had a lot of margaritas today.” Javi added, turning his head to let out a little burp at the end of his sentence. 

“I don’t see any Peña’s on the reservation for tonight….” The hostess sighed, flipping back and forth between today’s pages, clearly not amused by either of your antics. 

“Oh no… Does that mean we’re not getting pasta? Shit.” Javi pouted, crossing his arms over his chest like a little boy. 

“Oh wait, are- are you sure it was a reservation for today? I see Peña on here at 6 for tomorrow?” 

“Oh shit…” You and Javi replied, nearly in sync, visibly grimacing at the fact that you had spent the past 45 minutes in an alcohol induced frenzy, running through the resort to find a restaurant you weren’t even supposed to eat at until tomorrow. 

Whoops. 

“My bad….” You shrugged, sheepishly frowning as you looked back and forth between the hostess and Javi, “Okay, well, um, we’re gonna- We’re gonna go then.” You winced, grabbing Javi by the hand to slowly drag him away from the restaurant, hoping that the physical distance would somehow spare you the embarrassment you had just subjected yourself to. 

“You’re fine, just- We do ask that our guests wear more, um- appropriate attire when they come to dine with us.” The hostess scoffed, huffing at you and Javi, looking you up and down with your beach bound outfits and hands full of pool accessories as you continued to back away. 

“She doesn’t wanna see us eat pasta in our bathing suits?” Javi whispered in your ear, making you snort so loud it almost hurt your chest, trying to keep from bursting into full blown laughter before making it out of eye and earshot of the hostess, jabbing him in the stomach with your elbow, only spurring him on further, “She doesn’t know how sexy you’d look shoving a fist full of garlic bread down your throat with nothing on but a bikini? Her loss.” 

Now out of sight of the restaurant, you and Javi exploded into an obnoxious fit of drunken giggles, feeling completely idiotic for wasting nearly the last hour of your night in a whirlwind journey to nowhere. 

“Well, looks like no pasta for dinner tonight.” You sighed, playfully throwing up your hands in defeat. “I am starting to get really hungry though… Like too hungry to go back up to the room and change and then come back down and wait at a restaurant for more food.” 

“Yeah, shit, I’m really hungry too… Wait!” Javi paused, his face lighting up with excitement. 

“What, Jav?” 

“Didn’t we pass a pizza place on the way up to the room when we first got here? 

The grin on your face was now equally as wide, almost certain that you and Javi were having the same drunk recollection. 

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.” 

Somehow or another, you had not only managed to find your way to “Papa’s Pizzeria”, you had managed to successfully order an extra large pizza for the two of you to split, and make it back to the room without any pizza casualties on the way. 

Even a drunken you couldn’t help but realize how lucky she was to have married a man like Javi, and not just because of his excellent memory for pizza restaurants- What you had been through in the past hour and a half could have easily sent any other couple into an ugly spiral of arguments and blame they’d cast upon each other for “ruining” the rest of their night. 

You’d been witness to so many relationships and marriages where couples barely managed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company, let alone have fun together. Cohabitation drenched in resentment and unhappiness towards each other, forced proximity the only thing keeping them together.  

You were positive that there would never be enough “thank you’s” that you could send out into the universe for letting you marry your best friend. 

Because what would have been a soiled evening for so many others, was quickly turning out to be a better night than you could have ever imagined, plans tossed out the window to sit cross legged in your king sized bed together, bodies draped in fluffy hotel robes as you mowed down on slices of pepperoni pizza, giggling over shared, drunken secrets with your favorite person in the world. 

“Okay, your turn now.” You snickered, shoving another bite of lukewarm pizza into your mouth, giving Javi a playful shove into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed. 

“I just went!” He protested, trying to talk through the mess of cheese, sauce and crust he was still chewing. 

“Nuh uh! I just did, remember? We got off topic because we started talking about the Farrah Fawsect poster you had in your room that your mom made you take down, but you were the one who asked me about who my first celebrity crush was, remember?” You insisted, pointing your half bitten piece of pizza at him, forcing him to hold up his hands in defeat. 

“Okay, okay! Can’t blame me for forgetting after thinking about that poster, though.” Javi shrugged, smirking at the thought of his 12 year old self gawking at the beautiful blonde actress hanging above his bed, “Shit…. Gimmie a second, let me think.” 

“I’ve given you plenty of seconds, goofball! Like all the seconds I spared you thinking about Farrah.” 

“Shut up. Okay,” he paused, taking another bite of pizza, “who was your first kiss?” 

“Really? Why, you gonna go hunt him down?” You snorted, feeling like you were gossiping with your teenage best friend at a sleepover rather than with your husband, Javi laughing along with you as he shook his head, “It was Jack Mullins in the 7th grade.” 

“Okay, and?” Javi prodded, smirking as he interrogated you for more information. 

“It was at a Halloween Party my friend Sarah had at her house. I’m pretty sure we were playing truth or dare, and all my friends knew I had a massive crush on him because he was the cutest boy in the 7th grade. So they dared me to kiss him and I did it. It was so awkward, and I had no idea what I was doing. Pretty sure we kissed while the “The Monster Mash” was playing, too. I was so embarrassed after that I cried in the bathroom and then walked home and didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. Didn’t ever think I’d speak to him again and he ended up being my date to prom.” 

“Wow. That was a way better story than I was expecting to get. “The Monster Mash”? Truth or Dare?” Javi chuckled as your cheeks turned red, watching your eyes at his enjoyment of your story. 

“Okay, I was 12 Javi, some of us were weird, awkward teenagers. I’m sure that you were very easily the Jack Mullins of your middle school and had girls at the door lining up to kiss you.” You rebutted, having seen plenty of pictures of teenage Javi, thanks to Chucho, knowing whatever awkward phase he went through was only a fraction of your pre-teen pain. 

“No, I wasn’t. I was a pretty shy kid. All my friends had their first kiss way before I did.”  Javi shrugged, now sounding slightly more embarrassed. 

“Okay, so what? They were 12 and you were 13? I don’t believe it. I would have had the biggest crush on you in middle school.” 

“I’m being serious!”  

C’mon, Javi, if I’m telling you about my Monster Mash kiss, I get to hear about yours!” You insisted, giving him the biggest fake pout that you could muster until he gave in. 

“I- I was 16 when I had my first kiss.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Why would I joke about that?” 

“16?!” 

“Osita, you’re making it sound like I was 72 when I had my first kiss, not 16.” 

“Considering how cute you were, yeah, I am! Okay, spill! Now I need to know!” 

“I’m telling you, I was a shy kid. Didn’t really come out of my shell until 10th grade when I started doing swimming. There was a girl on the team I always thought was really cute, but I was too chicken shit to do anything about it. All my friends had girlfriends and dates to go to homecoming with, and I didn’t have anyone, so they forced me to ask her. She turned me down, told me she already had a date. I was devastated. Went to a party with the team after, got drunk for the first time because I was so upset, and ended up kissing my friend’s older sister, Katie. Made out in the laundry room in the basement for the rest of the night. My friend found us after he realized we both had gone missing and ended up punching me in the face and almost breaking my nose.” 

“Holy shit. That’s a way better story than mine.” You gawked, eyes going wide at the turn Javi’s story had taken. 

“I wouldn’t say way better, just stupid.” Javi huffed, “You do dumb things when you’re young.” 

“Well, you must have been a pretty good kisser even back then if she made out with you for an hour. Honestly, would have been dumb if she didn’t make out with you, in my humble opinion.” You giggled, scooting closer to Javi as you snuggled into his lap, resting your head on his outstretched thigh and letting out a big yawn. Resting his hand on your back, Javi pulled you closer, running his fingers through the sun kissed ends of your messy hair, smiling at all the tell tale signs sleep was beginning to creep through your body and the way you snuggled up next to him. 

“Okay, one last question because all these mojitos are catching up to me and I’m getting sleepy.” You mumbled, feeling your eyelids begin to droop as you curled up in the warmth of his body, comfort flooding over you from Javi’s presence. 

“Okay, hermosa. Your turn.” Javi cooed, his voice softening to match your sleepy tone, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“If you could change anything about your life, anything you want, what would it be?” 

Javi paused for a moment, his fingers still daintily stroking across your hair and back as he thought. Truthfully, there were plenty of things he wished he could change about his past. It would take him less than a minute to come up with a list longer than most people could muster in a lifetime. He had wasted so many years of his life, bitter and remorseful about the things he had done, condemning himself to suffer the consequences of his actions. And yet, somehow, despite all of the things he could have said, out of all the painful things he wished he could go back in time to change, there was one answer that prevailed above all the rest, an answer that couldn’t have been easier to choose.  

“I wish there was a world where I would have met you sooner. That I would have gotten to love you just a little longer.” 

He waited for your response, settling into the silence until it was broken by one of your soft snores humming against his thigh, signaling to him you were sound asleep in his lap, not having heard a word you said. He laughed softly to himself, remembering the first night he had stayed at your apartment, and how it had ended just like this, conversation flowing until the early hours of the morning until you couldn’t fight sleep any longer, eyelids shutting as you fell asleep in his arms. How he watched you gently drift to dreaming, wondering if he was, too. That somehow, some way, the world had managed to bring the two of you together. And even if he wished he would have gotten more time to love you before you’d met, Javi knew that he’d be forever grateful for every minute he had left with you. 

Despite the raging hangover the two of you had the next morning after you woke up from your alcohol and pizza induced coma, the rest of your honeymoon had been some of the most fun that the two of you had had in years. You’d spent multiple days at the pool, soaking up sun on the beach and swimming in the ocean, eaten so much delicious food you were convinced you were going to combust, drank more mojitos than you’d like to admit, and had even gone snorkeling on a tour through some of the islands outside your resort. 

You also had been having so much sex, you were starting to feel bad for the rooms on either side of you. 

Everything about your honeymoon had been everything you’d ever hoped for and more, but with only one full day left of your vacation, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that your perfect trip to tropical paradise was coming to a close. 

“What’s that look for, porbrecita?” Javi laughed, sneaking up behind you on the edge of the balcony, watching you watch the sunrise with your cheeks propped up in your palms, pouting at the way bright pinks and oranges were greeting the sky. Standing behind you, he snaked his arms around your front so he could bring your back to his chest, kissing the top of your head while his arms settled around your middle. 

“I don’t want our honeymoon to end.” You sighed, craning your neck just enough to look at Javi over your shoulder, “I’m sad it’s gonna be over.” 

“I know, mi amor, me too.” He softly chuckled, planting a long kiss on your cheek, the whiskers of his mustache making you giggle, “But what if I told you I have one more surprise for us before we go home tomorrow?” 

This made you swing all the way around, now chest to chest with Javi as you looked up at him in confusion, “What? I thought we were spending our last day on the beach just hanging out?” 

“Well we are, but what if I told you I rented one of those fancy cabanas at the end of the beach for us to use to celebrate our last day here?” Javi smirked, watching your face light up at his proposition. 

“Wait, actually?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“But aren’t they like, super expensive to rent for the day?” 

“I mean… they’re not that expensive.” 

“Okay, the pause tells me that you spent way more money than you needed to on this, Jav.” 

“And what if it was? I’m not allowed to wanna spoil my wife on our honeymoon?” Javi grinned, gently cupping your face and playfully shaking it, making you laugh again. 

“Your wife doesn’t need to be spoiled, just getting to be here with you is more than enough.” You paused, giving Javi a little nudge as he dramatically rolled his eyes at you, chuckling to himself, “What, you goof?” 

“I hope you know that because you’re my wife, I’m planning on spending the rest of my life spoiling you, whether you like it or not. I’d give you the fucking moon if I could, Osita.” 

“Well lucky for you, a day at a beach cabana will do just fine.” 

While you never would have asked Javi to purposely spend extra money on things you really didn’t need to make your trip any more special than it already was, you couldn’t deny that spending the day in your own private cove of the beach in a luxurious cabana with food and drinks being served to you at your request wasn’t a bad way to spend the last day of your honeymoon. 

The daybeds in the cabana had made a perfect place for a shady, mid day nap for the both of you, lazily waking up from the soft kiss Javi had planted on your shoulder, exposed from your bikini top, freckled and sunkissed from days in the tropics. 

“I’m gonna go for a swim, Hermosa. Be back in a sec.” Javi cooed, gently stirring you from your catnap. 

“Mmmmmmkay.” You smiled, flipping over for another kiss on the lips before Javi slipped out from the flaps of your tent, softly blowing in the breeze. You sat up on your lounger, the sight of Javi in nothing but his bathing suit waking you from your brief sleep in a matter of moments. 

Even though you had seen Javi in nothing but bathing suits for the past 9 days, you were convinced it was a sight you’d never find yourself getting over. There was no doubt that you had always found him incredibly attractive, but something about this trip had skyrocketed him to another level of sexy you didn’t even know was attainable. You weren’t sure if it was the unbuttoned floral shirts, excessive time spent shirtless, his messy and wet beach hair, or just the fact that now you got to call him your husband- truthfully, it was most likely a combination of all of the above. 

You perked up, pulling back the fabric door of the cabana enough to watch Javi’s arms stroke through the ocean, popping his head above water with a brief shake before he was shallow enough to touch the sandy bottom again. As he sauntered in from the ocean, you couldn’t help but admire the width of his shoulders and chest, glistening from the sun and salty water. You let your gaze travel down to his swim trunks, feeling your mouth water at the way they hugged his waist and crept up his thick thighs. With each step closer to shore, you couldn’t stop staring at the way his trunks were clinging to his lower half, perfectly outlining his generous length. 

Javi must have noticed the way you were staring at him by the subtle smirk that had broken out across his face as he approached the cabana, eyeing you up and down right back. 

“You have a good swim?” You asked, feeling your stomach swirl as you took in every inch of him, glowing in the sunlight. 

“Mhmm. Did you have fun watching me swim?” He teased, tongue tracing over his teeth while he raised his eyebrows, knowing damn well the effect he was having on you. 

“Maybe. What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view? Not my fault my husband is so handsome.” Your smirk was almost as wide as his, biting down on your bottom lip as Javi entered the cabana, letting the flap to the entrance close behind him before caging your body under his on the lounge chair, trailing hot, wet, kisses across your chest and stomach. 

“Say it again.” He mewled, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes as his kisses trailed lower and lower, watching as he began to settle himself at the edge of the chair between your thighs. 

“My husband is so handsome. You’re so handsome, Javi.” You sighed, feeling the damp patch in your swimsuit bottoms growing, soaking the fabric with your slick and arousal. 

“You’re so fucking good to me. Fuck, I’m so lucky.” He groaned, slinging your thighs over his shoulders, eyes still locked on you while he began to tug at the strings of your bikini, leaving your bottom half bare. 

There was a part of you that knew you should be worried about someone catching the two of you, barely concealed by the flimsy confines of your cabana, but the part of you staring at your husband between your legs about to eat you out seemed a lot more convinced that this was the best idea Javi had all day. 

“You’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. I’m the goddamn luckiest man alive, you know that baby?” 

Your response to his question was nothing but a ragged moan, feeling him draping his arm over your hips to hold you in place as he slid two fingers into your heat. He curled his hand to reach the spot inside you he knew made you crumble before diving back in between your legs, beginning to lick you up like a man starved.

His tongue swirled against your clit, the firmness of each stroke and the deep press of his fingers making you writhe under his touch, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his damp, curly locks to brace yourself as he ate you out relentlessly.

“Oh my god, fuck, Javi. Fuck, you feel so good. Fuck-” 

You could feel him switching tactics, latching his lips around your sensitive nub, rapidly sucking at the throbbing bundle of nerves, working his fingers deeper in your cunt as he felt you begin to clench around him. 

“Fuck Javi, fuck, right there baby- fuck, I’m close.” Your fingers were buried so deep in his curls, tugging just enough to pull his face closer to you as you could feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, desperate for him to give you your sweet release. 

His thick fingers bumped along your g-spot, curving them ever so slightly in the way he had memorized like the back of his hand to make you come undone. The tingle along your spine quickly spread down your legs, pleasure building rapidly throughout your body as you felt yourself on the edge of release. Lifting his arm off your waist, he reached up to grab your hand laying out on the lounge chair, engulfing it in his grasp as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Dameló, (give it to me) sweet girl. Let go, baby, I’ve got you.” 

You could feel the pressure inside you snap, the tingling in your veins quickly transforming into full blown pleasure as your orgasm swept through you. You gushed around his hand, cunt clenching down on his fingers as you came, losing all sense of inhibitions as you cried out with a volume much louder than intended. 

But with Javi’s fingers still curled, prodding against your g-spot, you had a feeling those cries weren’t coming to a halt any time soon. It was only moments after your orgasm had finished he was already on a mission to give you another, tongue lapping up every ounce of your slick as it pressed against your clit. 

“Javi, holy shit, baby, oh fuck.” You whined, bucking your hips towards his face and arching your back as he circled around your bundle of nerves, your moans and whimpers only egging him on more. 

Even after all this time, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe how fast Javi could make you cum. He had memorized every twitch, every tug of his hair, every breathy whisper to know what made you fall apart under his touch, loving every second of watching you come undone for him. 

You could already feel the tingling of your next orgasm beginning to creep up your legs and into your stomach as Javi sucked at your clit, greedy for him to help you hit your second high. 

“Please don’t stop, Javi. Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, I- ahhhhhhhhh.” That was all it took before you could feel the waves of pleasure rushing through your body again, your pussy throbbing as your orgasm flooded over you. 

Your legs were all but jello at this point, trembling around Javi’s head, still buried between them. Your last two orgasms had been so intense, you weren’t sure you could take a third, but with the way Javi knew your body, you also were convinced it would barely take anything for you to cum again. 

“J-Javi- fuck, baby, fuck I can’t-”   

“Gimme one more, Osita. C’mon, sweet girl. Wanna make my wife cum one more time.” You nodded, looking down at the shine of your arousal covering his smirk, knowing that at this point, you were so worked up and overstimulated that just the fingers already inside of you really were all you needed to give him your last orgasm. 

Javi’s fingers had already sunk so deep into your cunt, already so overly sensitive to every push and pull of his hand, that the grip you had on his hand had become so tight, you could feel your knuckles turning white. You cried out his name as it fell from your lips, babbling incoherently as the third rush of pleasure crashed over you, gushing onto Javi’s fingers.  

“That’s my good girl. My perfect fucking wife. I love you so much.” Javi carefully pulsed his fingers a few more times as he felt you clench around him, making you hiss as he withdrew his hand now soaked in your slick, bringing the digits to his fingers to suck them clean with a satisfied smirk. 

It was only moments before his sly grin had quickly shifted to full blown panic, you, still too blissed out to wonder why he was scrambling to throw a towel over your bottom half and one to hide the erection under his as he sat himself in the chair next to you. Thank god Javi still at least had an ounce of inhibition left to see the footsteps of the server who had been periodically checking in on you strolling their way through the sand under the edge of the cabana, saving you both from what could have been an incredible amount of embarrassment. 

“Hi, how are you two doing? Anything else I can get for you right now?” Your server asked, peeking his head in through the flaps to see you and Javi trying your best to act as natural as possible. 

“N-no, I’m good. You good, honey? Need anything?” Javi asked, looking over at you as his hand ran over the back of his neck, trying his best not to grimace at the awkward tension stewing between him, you and your poor, unsuspecting server. 

“You know what, I think I’m gonna have another drink.” 

“Alright! Another mojito for you, ma’am?” Your server asked, whipping out his pad of paper to note down your order. 

“No, can you make this next one a Sex on the Beach? That sounds really good.” 

It truly took everything in Javi not to burst out laughing, choking on his own spit at your perfectly timed order, shaking his head at you in a humorous disbelief. 

“Perfect, well I’ll be right back with your drink!” 

“Thank you so much!” 

Once your server had disappeared, you and Javi erupted in hyena like laughter, the combination of your joke and almost fatal timing throwing the two of you into a fit of giggles. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Javi chuckled, looking over at you as he shook his head. 

“What? It’s our last day, figured we might as well have a little sex on the beach. The drink sounds like it’ll be good, too.” 

Your mid-afternoon flight had made for an easy morning to pack up and soak in the last little bit of your honeymoon. It had given you just enough time to enjoy your favorite breakfast place, and have one more of the best blueberry waffles you’d ever tasted before your last shower (and shower sex) to get ready for your departure home. 

While you were sad your vacation had come to an end, there was no denying that every last bit of your trip was absolutely perfect, and even more so that you got to spend it with the most perfect person you could think of. You were convinced you could have gone anywhere in the world for your honeymoon and you would have felt the same- in the end, it wasn’t the destination that mattered, it was the fact you got to spend it with your husband. 

The fact that you got to spend every vacation together for the rest of your lives only made it that much sweeter. 

While flying would never be enjoyable, you were thankful your trip home was fairly painless, granting Javi’s hand some grace, considering you didn’t feel the need to keep it in an iron grip for the two hours it took you to arrive back home. 

You were also thankful that it was Steve and Connie who had offered to pick you up from the airport instead of Chucho, sparing you and Javi the same sort of awkward embarrassment you had endured on the ride to start off your honeymoon. 

Well, it may not been the same kind of embarrassment that you had experienced with Javi’s dad, but it was foolish of you to think that Steve was letting you get away scott free. 

At least he had managed to get creative with it, making a greeting poster with “Welcome home, lovebirds!” on it to help you find him and Connie in the airport crowd, making Javi let out a sigh loud enough that Steve probably could have heard it from the tarmac. 

“Hey! There they are! Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Steve grinned, pulling you and Javi in for a hug as you found him, Connie following suit with a much less dramatic greeting for the both of you afterwards. 

“How was the honeymoon? Did you guys have a great time?” Connie asked, offering to take one of your suitcases, nudging Steve to do the same. “ 

“It was really nice. It was everything we could have hoped for. The resort was beautiful, the food was great, and the weather was fantastic. It really was perfect.” You smiled, looking up at Javi, nodding in agreement, reaching out to wrap his arm over your shoulder. 

“Thanks again for picking us up.” Javi chimed in, the two of you now following along behind your friends as they began leading you through the airport towards their car. 

“Don’t mention it, Jav. Least we could do.” Steve replied, reaching out to give Javi a little punch to the arm. 

“We’re super excited to hear all about your trip!” Connie added, looking back at you and Javi with a genuine grin. 

“Excited to hear if I’m gonna make good on my bet…” Steve muttered, laughing under his breath. 

“Steve! Seriously? You promised in the car you weren’t gonna bring this up!” Connie huffed, giving her husband a slap to the chest, and a grimace that clearly was the silent way to ask “Will you please shut up?” 

“What?! I put good money on it, I’m confident!” 

“Wait, is this the same bet that Javi’s dad was talking about on the way here?” You asked, looking back and forth between Javi, Steve and Connie in confusion, perplexed as to what you and Javi had to do with whatever bet he and the Murphy’s were in on. 

“Go ahead, Steve! Why don’t you explain?” Connie scolded, hands on her hips as she stared down her husband in all his big mouthed glory. 

“You bet on it, too!” Steve retorted, holding his hands up in defense, pointing at Connie to claim her as part of the guilty party to whatever was going on.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Javi asked, trying to cut to the chase of whatever cryptic game they were playing. 

“After y’all left on your wedding night, we- shit, this does sound kinda bad when you say it to their face, huh?” Steve paused, letting out a huff as he turned back to Connie, grimacing in agreement, “Us and your family and your dad made a bet.” 

“A bet on…” You led, waiting for your answer. 

Steve sighed again, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground before looking back up at you and Javi, “A bet on how quick it would take after the wedding until the two of you announced you were pregnant.” 

You didn’t even want to know how red your face was turning, but judging by the sudden pink flush of Javi’s cheeks, you had no doubt you looked exactly the same, if not worse. 

“To be fair, your dad was the one who started it!” Steve exclaimed, pointing at Javi to let him know he wasn’t to blame for his friend’s embarrassment before shifting his finger to point at you, “And your brothers were the one who said we should make it a bet! I just wanted in on it!” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Javi sighed, face in his palm as he rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers. 

“I hope now you know we’re not gonna have kids just to spite all of you.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilted your head at Steve. It was enough to catch Javi’s attention, eyes going wide that there was even a shred of you being serious, laughing to yourself as you watched the relief flush over him when you shook your head at your own joke. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” Steve chuckled, his voice oozing with sarcasm, simply shrugging before turning back around to continue your journey to the parking garage. 

Javi took his free hand, intertwining it with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you trailed behind the Murphy’s soft smile on his face that despite his friends and families bet revolved around your sex life, there was a very real possibility that sooner rather than later, someone was bound to make their fifty bucks. 

“What’d you bet?” Javi asked, feeling entitled to know how Steve had gambled after he’d spilled the beans on his little wager. 

“Well, let’s see, y’all got married at the end of July, so July to August, August to September,” Steve paused, doing the quick math on his fingers as he calculated his answer, “9 months from now would be April, so I’ll be damned if you’re not tellin’ us your havin’ a baby by the fall and it’s here by the spring. And I know for a fact neither of y’all would be mad about that one bit.” 

And as much as you both hated to admit it, it was one of the few things in life that Steve Murphy was very, very right about. 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae

@kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle

@the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

@nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk

@msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler

@burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[anyalc0h0lic]

PEDRO PASCAL "Gladiator II" Royal Film Performance and Global Premiere (November 13, 2024)

[anyalc0h0lic]

PEDRO PASCAL as Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic

[anyalc0h0lic]

[anyalc0h0lic]

oh i’m in tears they didn’t deserve that

[anyalc0h0lic]

I can confidently say Lyle Menendez is one of the bravest men in the entire world, and I am so fucking aggravated with how the show has portrayed him.

Imagine you spent all your life trying to protect your baby brother from the abuse you suffered from, just for it to happen anyways.

And all this time you try so hard to put aside your pain and be strong for him, knowing he looks up to you, and knowing you are the only person in the world who can protect him from the two monsters in your life. Two monsters who happen to be the two people you’re supposed to trust the most.

And you are losing your hair from stress, and losing your brother due to your father, and losing your feelings of safety because your parents are a ticking time bomb that have been ready to go off your whole life.

So you do the one thing you think is the best option, and you and your brother shoot them dead.

And later on, you are put in a court room, having to discuss and relive all the terrible things that have ever happened to you in front of all these strangers and media cameras staring at you.

And your brother is there. Your brother who’ve you tried to hide the pain from for so long is across from you as you have to recount the vile things that have happened to you. And you have to watch him cry while you’re trying to keep yourself together.

Then later on, you guys get sentenced to life for trying to make sure you both get to live another day. And you’re forced to spend your mid 20s, to 30s, to 40s, and now 50s in prison, not getting to see your brother for decades until 2018.

And you know what you get out of it? You know what your payment is for suffering your entire life? For carrying the world on your shoulders for years ever since you were a kid?

You get portrayed as a psychopathic, egotistic, idiotic asshole in a show made by the creator of glee. You are constantly made fun of for your hair loss and the fact you have to wear a toupee, and you’re written as a completely devoid of empathy and unfeeling monster, who treats his brother like shit and only cares about himself. You are also being sexualized to death, and with your own brother as well.

Oh, and not to mention: the show basically says you FAKED your emotions and tears in court. Yeah, that time you were at your most vulnerable and bravely telling your abuse story even when you knew a lot of people wouldn’t understand? Fake! Totally and utterly fake. Apparently you were the actor in your family all along…

Lyle has been treated like shit his entire life. He was a child, a BABY when his parents started violating him. He didn’t even know how to ride a bike yet when it started. He barely had the chance for life yet. Please, media, leave this man and his brother alone. I NEVER wanna see this portrayal of Lyle again.

Unless I talk about how I finished the Netflix show, one last time: Fuck you Ryan Murphy. And stop doing this to victims. Stop disrespecting them.

[anyalc0h0lic]

nah his abs are so good they don’t look real. i NEED this man omg

[anyalc0h0lic]

[anyalc0h0lic]

freckle confessions

summary: confessing your feelings to frankie in a unique way...

warnings: none i think?? this is pure fluff! also this was an old blurb rewritten for frankie to help me ease into writing for him, because ive been dying to forever lol <3

masterlist

Warm bodies are tangled together under the sheets while the birds chirp peacefully outside. A lovely, golden-pink sunlight floods through the bedroom windows and past the curtains which ripple gently from the late summer, early morning breeze outside. Frankie is laying on his back beside you in all his glory, his broad chest on full display for you as your hand rubs over his baby soft skin. 

Laying on your side with your face just inches from Frankie’s solid frame, you drag a single finger from freckle to freckle, moving in a randomized route over the teeny specks littering the top of his shoulder and on the back of his arm. You smile, just to yourself, looking up at the man beside you and contemplating just how lucky you are.  

“What’re you doing?” Frankie finally speaks up with a soft, hushed chuckle, feeling the soft sensation of your fingertips, and wondering what your wandering finger’s goal is as his warm, umber eyes bore into yours from above.

“Doing… connect-the-dots,” you murmur honestly, yet avoid his gaze.

“With my freckles?” he laughs, leaning down and over to kiss the side of your head.

“Mhm,” you admit before gently pushing him up by the shoulder so that he turns over to lay on his side with his back to you. 

From contingent doodles, you instead begin tracing the words I love you on his back, invisibly connecting the little brown dots he has there, too. You copy those three words over and over and over again, seemingly lighter each time in fear he might catch on. 

You write the phrase in all caps, all lowercase, slanted, in cursive, any way you can. It’s what some would consider a risky game, but for now, it’s the bravest you’ll be and the closest you’ll get to saying the words out loud. 

“And what are the dots making, Querida?” Frankie coos, his voice slightly muffled now that he’s not facing you.

“You get three guesses,” you say quietly, hoping he guesses wrong and this all gets swept under the carpet until you can actually voice the real words to him.

“Is it a dog?” he inaccurately predicts.

“No,” you peep back.

“A house?”

“No,”

“Shoot, I don’t know,” he says with a small laugh. “Draw it again?” he pleads, so you trace the words lightly and quickly again for him. “A flower?” comes his next speculation.

“Nope. But I guess… well I should tell you: it’s not really a drawing. It’s letters,” you explain, writing the confession over his back in both mixed capital and lowercase letters this time.

“You’re spelling something out?”

“Mhm.”

“Tricky,” he teases. “Alright. Gimme three more guesses?” 

“Go for it.”

“S’it my name?”

“Nope,” you state, then write it out a final time. And this time, it’s slow and deliberate; you accept knowing that he might get it right. 

“Your name?” he guesses wrong again.

“Mm mm,” you hum in denial with a small sigh, now spreading out all your fingers over his back and rubbing the spot you'd just been writing on, as if to erase your workspace. 

“Dang. Well, I still have a final guess,” he says, then slowly turns around to face you. 

His smile is so comforting and his eyes display nothing but a deep passion for you. Your heart does a flip as he grabs the hand you had been writing on him with and kisses it before speaking up again. 

“I love you, too, Querida,” he whispers, letting go of your hand and instead cupping your face to place a sweet, soft, and slow kiss to your lips. Then, “did I guess right?” he asks, his pink, plush lips lingering just inches from yours.

“You’re good at connect-the-dots,” you speak bashfully, warmth flushing in your cheeks and butterflies dancing in your stomach as he leans in to kiss you once more. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are super duper appreciated! and if you enjoyed this fic and would like to be added to a taglist, fill out this form!

[anyalc0h0lic]

Lana Del Rey, from Cinnamon Girl

[anyalc0h0lic]

the fact that we need 8 hours of sleep is ridiculous we should only need 4 and the other 4 should be used to be cozy in your bed and rub your legs together like a cricket and listen to music and think about your little scenarios

[anyalc0h0lic]

JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

[anyalc0h0lic]

Ama Codjoe, from Bluest Nude: Poems; “Bluest Nude”

[Text ID: “I crave. I want to be seen clearly or not at all.”]

[anyalc0h0lic]

can someone explain to me how to get lana’s unreleased music on files?😭 ive seen so many ppl have that and i just cant figure out how to do it (im not tech/internet savvy AT ALL). ty thats all :)

[anyalc0h0lic]

𝟔𝟎𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲⋆ ˚｡⋅୨୧⋆˚