survivingandenduring

[survivingandenduring]

Welcome to the Neighbourhood

marcus pike masterlist | A03 link | Mature | 3k words

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OFC Fern

Summary: Marcus's new neighbour has caught his attention.

Themes/warnings: I'm leaning heavily into the romcom here with a few mishaps and misunderstandings along the way. Burnt cookies. British spellings (you'll prize the letter U from my cold dead hands). Parks and Recreation references throughout. Big snogs on the sofa guest starring some spicy wandering hands.

A/N: This was written for @burntheedges Summer Tunes Writing Challenge . Thanks for hosting, Kate! My song prompt for Marcus was Romanticism by Retrofile and I used these lyrics as my inspiration:

I wanna catch you at the right time

Not a weekday or a work night

But you're always busy, and never home.

Underneath the moonlight, I could turn it on

Driving back to your house, to your favourite song

A generation of romantics

Getting caught up in semantics

Foolish love comes off too strong

Think you're afraid of really trying

To show the feelings that you're hiding

Why do I waste my time at all?

Moving day

It had taken Marcus a few days to realise that someone new had moved into the townhouse next door to his. He was working such long hours, and his only interactions with his previous neighbour would be him banging on their shared wall when the sounds of action movies blared through the plasterboard and shook the pictures from their nails.

Day 1

He’d come home that particular evening, with a sweaty plastic bag of take-out Chinese food hanging from his fingers, and couldn’t quite work out what felt different. It was quiet, he eventually realised. He could only hear the low hum of the cars outside and the buzz of his empty refrigerator. He’d eaten his chow mein perched on the edge of his couch. Spooned straight from the carton, not even the dignity of a fork let alone chopsticks, his tie loosened but not removed like he wasn’t planning on staying.

The TV next door had turned on an hour later, and he’d braced himself for the screeching of tyres and firing of guns, but it hadn’t come. What he’d heard instead was the upbeat theme tune of Parks and Recreation, and he’d thought approvingly that perhaps the guy next door had finally got some taste.

Day 2

He’d come home in a bad mood. He was tired of pulling out all the stops on cases that felt increasingly soulless. The job that had once felt vibrant and fulfilling was sliding ever quicker into grey sludge.

There was a yellow post-it note stuck to the weathered wooden panel about his doorbell, the breeze making it blink like the light on a life jacket.

‘Hey neighbour! Just moved in and came by to say Hi. If I’m not here I’ll be at the animal hospital - staff, not a patient (mostly). Catch you again sometime! Fern & Morris.’

Fern and Morris, they certainly sounded a little more wholesome than the last tenant.

Day 3

Their paths crossed on their shared driveway when Marcus got home from the office at an hour so late that he didn’t know whether to have dinner or just skip straight to breakfast. Her: an orange VW Bug, Marcus: a black BMW. He preferred her car, if he was honest. Didn’t think a daisy on top of his car antenna would quite work.

Exhausted as he was, he couldn’t help noticing a kind of brightness coming from her. It lit up a foolish part of his brain like a switchboard. How someone could look that good in paint splattered overalls and flip-flops, he had no idea, but as soon as she looked up and her face cracked into a crooked grin he felt like he was being blinded.

She’d looked embarrassed when he’d introduced himself and shaken her hand. “Are you always this formal?” She’d teased.

“Actually, yes.” He’d laughed, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nice suit.” She looked him up and down approvingly “You work for the FBI?”

“Thanks. Yeah, how did you-?”

“This was a dead giveaway.” She’d smiled, lifting up the end of his work lanyard with her fingertips. “That and the fact that half the neighbourhood do. I’m never planning on locking my doors.”

“You got me.” He’d shrugged. “So have you settled in OK?”

“I think so, Morris might take a little more time. He’s a crotchety sort.”

Ah, yes, Morris. That threw ice water over that prickle of excitement that had stirred in his head.

“Well, if you need anything…”

“Yep, I know where to find you. I’ll knock three times. Oh, and Marcus?” She’d called as he turned to leave. “You might wanna get some oil on your bed frame, I can hear it squeaking from my room. Could get…awkward.”

Marcus’s neck had flushed pink. “I could pretend I’m living the wild bachelor dream, but it’s actually just work induced insomnia. Lotta tossing.”

“Lots indeed.” She’d snorted.

Day 4

Marcus was watching a Netflix documentary on elephants when he heard a hurried knock on his door. He’d opened it to find a plate of misshapen and mostly burnt cookies and another yellow post-it on his door mat.

‘Do NOT judge me on these, the oven in this place is possessed. Nearly burnt Morris’s face off. It’s the thought that counts! Fern.’

He’d pinned the post-it to the refrigerator, on top of the first one, with a hideous coconut shaped magnet his sister had brought him back from Hawaii, then flopped onto the couch and unpaused the TV. Twenty minutes later, 3 knocks rapped against the wall behind him. Amused, he’d stretched his arm up and knocked back.

Day 5

He was disappointed not to see her car on the drive when he left for work. He’d written three different iterations of a thank you note from a stack of index cards he’d found in his desk drawer to return with her plate. The first two were crumpled in the trash — too formal and businesslike — the third he’d relaxed into a bit more, been more Marcus and less Agent Pike.

‘Truly the WORST cookies I’ve ever had, and yet I ate them all. I have a sweet tooth and no shame. M.’

He’d spent his whole drive to work chewing over whether he should have included ‘say Hi to Morris, be good to meet him too.’ He’d have a chance to rectify that soon enough he supposed.

Day 6

That day’s post-it was blue and rectangular.

‘I work a 12 hour shift and come home to find an empty plate on my doorstep? I have been the victim of a drive-by bakery theft, surely? I’ll alert the HOA.’

Another note was scribbled on the back. He’d almost missed it but spotted it as he stuck it under the magnet.

‘Could I hear you crying through the wall the other night? Elephants, right? They get me every time, too. Do NOT let me watch Dumbo.’

He’d plucked up the courage to knock on her front door this time, but the curtains were drawn, and the house had the quiet atmosphere of shift worker sleep that he didn’t want to disturb.

Day 7

He heard Ron Swanson’s voice booming through their shared wall asking for “All the bacon and eggs that you have” as he made himself a suddenly lacklustre looking piece of toast. He checked his watch and saw he was running uncharacteristically late after he’d actually started sleeping better again. He grabbed another card before he headed out.

‘I wasn’t crying. I was having an allergic reaction to your cookies.’ Then, a brainwave just as he bounced to the door to stick his note to her door. ‘You should both come by later - Burt Macklin.’

Day 8 & 9

Her car didn’t move, but there were no notes and no knocks. He felt oddly deflated.

Day 10

Marcus was up a ladder, clearing leaves from his overflowing gutters when Fern’s voice almost startled him into a heap on the ground.

“Hey Macklin, there’s a set of five Spiderman underpants on the communal washing line, I assume they’re yours?”

He hopped back onto solid ground, a smirk on his lips.

“That’s classified information.” He said.

“Mm. Thought so.” She craned her head to peek at his ass in his joggers. “Can’t see any seams there, I’m guessing you’re going commando. Either that or you’re wearing a thong.”

“I’ll leave it to your imagination.” He’d shot back before he could stop himself. He needed to stop himself. This was veering dangerously towards flirting, and quite frankly, once he started that he didn’t tend to put the brakes on until it was too late.

“So, laundry day?” He’s asked, steering them back to safer territory.

She’d nodded towards the basket under her arm. “Yup. I’m wrangling a litter of foster kittens so I’m going through blankets quicker than I can turn them around. Morris is not happy at all. Doesn’t like his routine being out of whack.”

“Is he one of those ‘dinner on the table at 6 PM’ guys?” Marcus had asked, as casually as possible. Hunting for reasons to dislike this man he’d never met.

“Something like that. Though if I can get him not to eat on the couch and make a damn mess, I class that as a win.”

“I’ll let you get on, then.” Marcus said, wiping his leaf-grubby hands on his t-shirt. He could have sworn her saw her shoulders sag a little.

Day 11

Sunday stretched out before him, long and empty. He should call his Mom, maybe catch up on some paperwork, and iron a shirt for tomorrow. This was not the kind of domesticity that he enjoyed. It was all so solitary.

He was draining his third coffee of the day and swirling the gounds at the bottom of the cup that hadn’t been caught by the filter when he heard a crash and a raised exasperated voice through the wall.

“Oh, Morris! Not my grandmother’s vase!”

Marcus had leapt off the couch and was striding out of the door before he really knew what he was doing. He aimed for a knock on her door that was assertive but polite.

Fern answered looking harassed, and looking…wait, why was her top wriggling like that?

“I heard something and I wanted to check if - are you OK?” Marcus couldn’t keep his eyes of what was happening under her t-shirt.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m just keeping some orphaned squirrels warm.” She lifted her shirt and flashed him both her bra and a bundle of small furry bodies.

“Right, of course you are.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I’d invite you in, but Morris is sulking upstairs and not really in a visitors mood, and I’ve got to feed my lingerie litter in another 10 minutes.” She’d grimaced and nodded to her chest.

“Not to worry. I just wanted to check if you were alright.” He had to strain to keep his tone breezy.

There was a level of chaos about Fern that was as compelling as it was confusing. It was safe to say that he had never met anymore like her before, and maybe that was why she’d gotten under his skin in the way she had.

Day 12

Fern had been crouched down on the scrubby patch of lawn in front of her window, wrist deep in some window box planters, so Marcus hadn’t spotted her as he rushed out of the house. He had one hand already on the car door handle when her sing-song voice calling out to him made him look up.

“Nice jeans, agent! Where are you off to?”

“Dinner.” The word curdled in his stomach. He’d been putting of being set up with one of his sister’s work colleagues for weeks now, but had figured he might as well give it a chance seeing as his radar seemed all off of late.

There was that look again. That sort of dimming behind her eyes.

“Have a good night.” She’d smiled as he raised his hand in salute.

His date had been… not a disaster necessarily, but Marcus couldn’t remember the last time an evening with a beautiful woman had left him that cold. She was perfectly nice, ticked all of his boxes in all honestly, but he’d felt like he was going through the motions and was relieved when she’d declined dessert and he could ask for the bill. He knew something was off when he found himself swerving her Merlot scented kiss on the lips in favour of a polite peck on the cheek.

It wasn’t until he pulled onto his street and felt the corners of his mouth lift into a smile at the sight of an extremely badly parked orange car that he realised what had been missing. He decided then that he needed to snuff out this flame that was licking under his skin. He wasn’t a man who shared, and he certainly wasn’t one who'd cheat. He’d go over there tomorrow, meet this Morris, and turn this fictional obstacle into a real man. Who knew, they might even become friends eventually.

Day 13

Marcus had to knock on Fern’s door with the heel of his shoe as his arms were so laden with a six pack of beers, a large container of chocolate brownies that he’d had to leave work early to snag from the bakery, and an edible fruit arrangement perched precariously on top.

“Did you reverse into my car or something?” Fern said, smiling as she took the exotic bouquet from the pile and ushered him inside.

“Belated housewarming gifts.” Marcus said, dropping the other items onto her kitchen counter. “I figured flowers were a no-go, seeing as your vase got broken. You’ve been pretty clear that I owe you baked goods, and I thought perhaps Morris and I could share a beer or something.”

Fern’s eyebrows rose as she called out. “Morris, can you come here buddy?”

A frankly enormous Newfoundland dog came padding into the room and took a tentative sniff at Marcus’s shoes.

“He’s more of a rum drinker, but thank you for the gesture.” Fern smiled.

“This is Morris?” Marcus laughed, running a hand over his jaw. “I thought he was-”

“What?”

“Well, human.” Marcus said. “And your partner.”

“Nope, and nope.” She scratched Morris behind his greying ears. “Although he has set the bar pretty high in terms of companionship.”

Fern’s eyes were flashing wickedly at Marcus now.

“Do you want to stay for a brownie?” She asked. “I was just about to watch some TV, but you can tell me all about how your date went last night. I didn’t hear any creaking through the wall, so I’m guessing not great?”

“Right, yeah, it was a bit of a flop.” Marcus shrugged, kicking off his shoes and lining them up by the door. “Wouldn’t even fill a commercial break with the details, but I’ll join you for a bite.”

The two of them sat on opposite ends of her couch with the food between them, the unopened beers abandoned in favour of two glasses of iced tea. Fern sat cross-legged, and Marcus noticed how bright pink nail polish on her toes matched her shirt.

“Do you have any live animals on your person today?” He asked.

Fern glanced down at her chest. “Nope. Nothing underneath here except the best tits in the neighbourhood.”

Marcus’s drink had almost come out of his nose. “Bold claim.” He’d choked.

“I know what I’ve got.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Know what you’ve got, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Best little ass on the street, from what I’ve seen so far. And believe me I’ve been looking.”

“I’ll take that.” Marcus said, moving closer to her on the couch.

She scooted up from her end, too. “Good. Glad we got that all straightened out.”

“So what are we watching?”

Fern grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration. “Ooo, I can’t scroll past a re-run of Parks and Recs. You in?”

“Yep. Love it.”

It was the episode with the Snake Juice, but Marcus wouldn’t have cared which it was. He only wanted to hear her wheezy laugh over and over again.

“Commercial break! Time for you to spill the details on last night.” Fern reminded him with an elbow jab.

“It was fine. She was nice.” He said, keeping his eyes fixed on the TV, his mouth suddenly a little dry.

“But…?” Fern did a rolling gesture with her hands.

Marcus shifted on the couch and took one of her hands in his, stroking his thumb over the knuckle of hers. “But she wasn’t you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Fern beamed. “I thought you’d given me the brush off.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were available.”

“I’m curious,” she said with a lift of her chin, “if I'd had some 6ft boyfriend hiding in the back, what would you have done?”

“Befriended him.” Marcus scratched his chin in thought. “Then had him killed.”

“Wow.” Fern snorted. “Didn’t know the bureau sanctioned that kind of thing.”

“Well we only get one now. Damn budget cuts.”

“Mm.” She nodded, her gaze slipping towards the TV. “Would you look at that, break’s over.”

She’d slid under his arm by the time the next episode had finished. He could smell her minty shampoo and feel the heat of her cheek burning against his chest as she raked her nails lazily along the indigo denim on his thighs.

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand, and she turned to look up at him, all light and sparkle. “Come here.”

No jokes that time, no quirked eyebrows. Just her spinning around so that he could take her face in his hands and pull her up on top of him until his lips were on hers and her fingers were twined in his hair. He heard her breath hitch, felt his hips lift in response as their tongues found one another.

Hemlines were toyed with by eager fingertips until he snaked his hand under her shirt to unhook her bra. Hers were faster, fumbling, and as she undid his belt with a clink, he thought ‘I really love this neighbourhood.’

Thank you to my cheer squad on this one @schnarfer @whocaresstillthelouvre and @maggiemayhemnj

Tagging some folks who usually enjoy a bit of El's Marcus (hope you don't mind):

@the-blind-assassin-12 @mothandpidgeon @pascalssbabyy @toomanytookas

@harriedandharassed @imdrinkingpedro @inept-the-magnificent

@chujo-hime @ishabull @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @sin-djarin

@sawymredfox @trulybetty @jennaispunk @katareyoudrilling @bitchesuntitled

@sunnytuliptime @theravenreads @insomniamamma @yopossum @thundermartini

@5oh5 @msjarvis @oliveksmoked @axshadows @casa-boiardi

@tuquoquebrute @kirsteng42 @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave @purplerain04

@medellintangerine @enchantingchildkitten @iknowisoundcrazy @bergamote-catsandbooks @milla-frenchy

[survivingandenduring]

Meet the Millers Masterlist - NEW CHAPTERS COMING APRIL 16TH, 2025!

Moving into the Boston Quarantine Zone after nearly 20 years on the outside takes some adjusting. A misdirection one night guides you to the 3 men who will change the course of your life.

Benny Miller x Will Miller x Joel Miller x f!reader

Overall rating: M for mature themes. 18+ only!

*UPDATE MARCH 2025: I am officially continuing this series after 3 years of debating! “Part 2” will pick up on Chapter 12, only a short bit after the ending of Chapter 11 (despite me taking 3 years to write it lol)

*Also note this was written before the release of the show!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 (this is where the fic originally ended in March 2021)

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Extras:

Video Edit made by @livingmydreams13

Video edit made by @livingmydreams13

[survivingandenduring]

Joel miller fucking you hard while ranting about his day and not realizing that you almost passed out from too much orgasms

────۶ৎ too many times

joel doesn’t realise how many times he’s made you cum. not until you start slippin under.

warnings: smut, rough sex, overstimulation, joel ranting mid-fuck.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: joel rantin while wreckin you???? pls keep feeding me this good shit. thank you for your servic

ᖭ༏ᖫ

joel doesn’t mean to fuck you dumb. he really don’t. he just comes home pissed, shoulders tight, boots stompin through the front door like the floor insulted him personally.

you ask him how his day was, sweet and soft like you always do, and he just grabs you by the hips like he’s starvin.

“fuckin useless,” he growls, breath hot on your neck as he hauls you onto the bed. “whole crew’s full of dumb fucks—tryna carry steel like it weighs nothin. could feel my back givin out just watchin.”

his belt’s off, pants shoved down, cock already hard and angry red at the tip. you’re soaked just from the sound of his voice, that edge of southern grit makin your thighs press together. he slides in with no warning, thick and deep, and your body gives like it always does—greedy for him.

“ain’t even lunch,” he huffs, settlin his weight over you, slow-rollin his hips like he’s got all the time in the world. “n’ i’m already dealin with shit. got one guy droppin tools, another one disappearin to piss every five minutes. swear to god—jesus, baby, you’re tight.”

you can’t answer. your mouth’s open, eyes flutterin, arms limp above your head. he grabs your wrists, pins ‘em down, starts fuckin you hard—not mean, but rough like he needs it. needs you. each stroke knocks the breath out your lungs, the head of his cock hittin deep enough to make your toes curl.

“y’ain’t even listenin, huh?” he chuckles, breathless, hand comin up to cradle your jaw. “too cockdrunk to care.”

you nod, or try to. don’t even know if it happens. all you know is you’re clenchin again, cryin out as another orgasm tears through you—your fifth? maybe sixth. your thighs tremble, your cunt flutterin round him, wet and swollen and overstimmed. he doesn’t slow. just fucks you through it like he’s still ventin, brows furrowed, sweat drippin onto your chest.

“you takin it so good, baby,” he mutters. “fuck. should come home angry more often.”

you’re barely conscious—floatin somewhere between bliss and blackout, lips glossy, babblin his name. he finally looks at your face, sees your eyes rolled back, sees the tears on your cheeks.

“shit. baby? hey—hey, y’alright?” his voice cracks, rough but soft underneath. “look at me. need you with me, darlin.”

your lips part, breath hitchin, and you manage one tiny, ruined moan: “keep goin…”

and fuck, does he.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[survivingandenduring]

Closed Position Masterlist

Last Updated 05/01/2025 ||| Dieter Bravo x OFC

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Sexual tension, mutual pining, angst, so much smut (we get a little dom and sub Dieter, intimacy, use of a sex toy, sex acts in public, spanking...really it's all too much to list here - it's Dieter, use your imagination), spicy language, themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by Dieter), past alcohol abuse, past drug abuse, and shitty parents. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Cat dad / plant dad Dieter comes with his own warnings.

EXTRAS | TEASERS | VIBES | ASKS | PLAYLIST

Prologue

Week 1 - Introductions

Week 2 - Foxtrot

Week 3 - Cha Cha (Part 1)

Week 3 - Cha Cha (Part 2)

Week 4 - Jive (Part 1)

Week 4 - Jive (Part 2)

Week 5 - Rumba (Part 1)

Week 5 - Rumba (Part 2)

Week 5 - Rumba (Part 3)

Week 5 - Rumba (Part 4)

Week 6 - Argentine Tango

Week 7 - Paso Doble

Week 8 - Viennese Waltz

Week 9 - Jazz

Week 10 - Quickstep

Week 11 - Samba

Week 12 - Finale

Epilogue

✨DIETER’S INSTAGRAM STORIES | POSTS

✨KATARINA’S INSTAGRAM STORIES | POSTS

✨TEXTS WITH DIETER SERIES HERE (NSFW)

✨PLANT DADDY DIETER FINDS HERE (NSFW)

🪩 Enjoying this fic? Check out my others HERE.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Credits: Star divider courtesy of @saradika Sparkle chapter dividers courtesy of @deadbranch Support dividers/MDNI courtesy of @cafekitsune

[survivingandenduring]

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Updated Word Count: ~90k

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.

AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Part One

Chapter 5 - Part Two

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for updates.

[survivingandenduring]

Little Dove - A Series

(Joel Miller x female!reader)

18+

Series Summary: After sending both your daughters off to college, you and Joel find yourself to be empty nesters in your early 40’s. However, all that alone time has it’s perks, most of which are kinky.

TW: reach each chapters for specific warnings. 18+

A/N: The love I received from the first story has sent my brain into high gear. I have zero timeline for these stories and they may not come out in the order listed below. The story summaries could change as I write. 🙏🏻 please let me know which you’re most excited for or if you want to be tagged 🙏🏻

🤍����️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍

You’re Mine, Little Dove

A walk at night starts with ropes, blindfolds, and ends with the best orgasms of your life, and an even better twist at the end.

Kink: Predator/Prey

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel reminds you that his wishes are your commands during an interesting bet between you two.

Kink: Vibrator Torture, Pleasure Dom

Taste Her, Little Dove

Joel watches as you explore a new side of yourself.

You’re a Brat, Little Dove

At your 25-year high school reunion, an old classmates is enamoured with your partner; you can’t say that you blame her, but it sparks enough jealousy for you to decide to get Joel’s attention.

Kink: Brat Tamer, Spanking, Dom/Sub

Do Your Worst, Little Dove

Joel gets a taste of his own medicine.

Kink: Role reversal, domme/sub

Merry Christmas, Little Dove

You and Joel fuck in front of the Christmas tree

Kink: Dom/Sub

You're Perfect, Little Dove

Insecurities from the past send you spiralling in a way that only Joel can fix.

Kink: Praise, Pleasure Dom

Touch Yourself, Little Dove

Joel discovers how much he likes to watch.

Kink: Voyeurism

Additional Materials

Thank You @survivingandenduring for this GORGEOUS edit of Joel and his Little Dove.

[survivingandenduring]

Chapter 22 pt.1- Plus One

Summary: One weekday in September, you and Javi learn that your family is getting a very welcomed addition to your family

Word Count: 15.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, praise kink, breeding kink (listen... she's already pregnant, but Javi's an optimist LOL), general talk of pregnancy, doctor's appointment, nausea/morning sickness, Dad to be!Javi makes me weak in the mf'in knees (I'm being so fr, the man is built to be a dad), The Murphy's/Chucho/Your family may have a gambling problem

A/N: This is me bracing myself for y'all to throw rotten fruit at me in the public square while you boo and his because this literally took 6 months AND I AM SO DEEPLY, TRULY SORRY ABOUT IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Me and this chapter have been in a wrestling match since November, but she's finally here!!! I'm planning on splitting up Javi and Osita's pregnancy journey by trimester, so this chapter is months 1-3, next chapter will be months 4-6, etc... I know I sound like a broken record, but the love that you guys have shown this story and these characters legit makes me want to cry, I think part of the reason this took so long is bc after this, there's only two more chapters before NTL is a wrap, and that's a very weird thing to say. So regardless, I just wanna say I love y'all and love getting to share this story with you and I'm just feeling really sappy about it 🥹💛 OKAY ANYWAYS, YOU CAN CONTINUE WITH THE BOOING AND TOMATO PELTING, I'M SORRY AGAIN!!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Month 1 

“I swear to God, if I’m already getting sick two weeks into the school year, I’m gonna cry.” 

Finding yourself hunched over your toilet bowl at 6:30 A.M. was not the way you were planning to start your Wednesday morning, but after tossing and turning for the past hour in bed with a terrible pit in your stomach, you didn’t feel like you had much of a choice. 

Being the light sleeper and worry wart he was, Javi was up with you, despite your best attempts to tell him to go back to bed, considering there was nothing he could do for your upset stomach besides watch you vomit repeatedly into your toilet. Trying his best to stay awake without his mandatory dose of morning coffee, Javi sat on the bathroom floor next to you, still in nothing but his boxers as he simultaneously rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and your back with another. 

“I think I’m just gonna start wearing a hazmat suit to school.” You sighed, sitting up a little straighter, starting to feel at least a little bit of relief after feeling like you had finally emptied the last of anything left in your stomach. “I think that’s the last of it for now. Fuck, I gotta take a shower before I do anything else to get ready.” 

“Get ready? Osita, you just spent an hour throwing up. You should be taking the day off.” Javi shot up, your proposition now making him fully awake, shocked that you would even consider going into work after the events of this morning. 

With a remorseful grunt, you pushed yourself off the bathroom floor, trying to stretch and shake out any remainder of your sickness  as you stepped over Javi to turn on the shower. 

“Jav, it’s more work for me to call in sick and make sub plans than it will be for me to just go into school. I don’t even have my normal plans ready since it’s the beginning of the school year. Worst case, Maria can watch my class if I need to throw up again, or very worst case, I bring in the rolling TV cart and put on Bill Nye the Science Guy for them.” You sighed, stripping yourself of your pajamas and tossing them on the floor before pushing open the shower curtain and slipping under the steaming flow of hot water. 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration at your stubbornness. “Honey, I’m just worried that-” 

“Javi, I’ll be fine. You gonna write my sub plans and teach for me today? If that’s the case, go right ahead and I’ll stay home. Seriously?” You snapped, a little more sass in your tone than you had intended, your frustrations more at the circumstances of your job and less at Javi’s suggestion. You stood in silence for a moment, the rhythmic splash of the water from the showerhead hitting the floor of the tub as your stomach began to fill with guilt in the way you had responded to Javi after he had spent his whole morning sitting beside you in the bathroom while you threw up. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” You muttered, pushing back the shower curtain to look at Javi, jaw shifting back and forth as he grinded on his teeth, trying his best to make sure his lack of sleep and coffee didn’t turn the rest of the morning into a war zone because of your comment. 

“It’s okay, Osita. What can I do to help?” 

“Can you make me breakfast?” You asked sheepishly, tears starting to well in your eyes that you had taken your anger out on Javi, and despite that, he was still offering to help. 

“Of course, baby. What do you want?” 

“Just eggs and toast.” 

“Okay. Just worry about getting ready and I’ll take care of everything else. I love you.” Javi smiled, giving your arm a little squeeze. 

Suddenly, a wave of emotion seemed to crash through your body, your wet, teary eyes now transforming to full on sobs, feeling such an intense combination of guilt and appreciation for how wonderful your husband was, and how terrible you felt that you had reacted to him the way that you did.

Just as soon as Javi was about to get up and make you breakfast while you fought to get yourself ready for work, he was back, crouched down next to you as he heard the sound of your soft sniffles and tears. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Javi asked, concern flooding his face, reaching up to wipe your wet cheek with his thumb as he cradled your jaw. 

“I’m so sorry I was so mean about that, I- I- I know you’re just trying to help. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You sighed, shaking your head and trying to laugh off your teary state. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to get so mad at you, I don’t know why I’m so all over the place right now.” 

“Hermosa, it’s okay. I promise. Why don’t you get in the shower, I’ll make you breakfast, and pack up all your stuff for this morning.” Javi smiled softly, pressing a soft kiss into your messy, morning bed head before exiting the bathroom, leaving you to finally start getting ready for the day. 

After a pain-stakingly nauseous shower, followed by eating approximately two bites of toast and no eggs, you somehow managed to make it to school on time, but spent the entirety of the day fighting for your life as waves of stomach pain and exhaustion crashed through you. As if teaching wasn’t tiring enough in itself, trying to wrangle 26 3rd graders while holding back the little you ate of your breakfast was enough to completely knock you on your ass by lunch time, leaving you to lock yourself in your room after dropping your students off at the cafeteria, praying that the hour of peace and quiet would help you make it through the rest of the day. 

Unfortunately, even with your door locked, your nosy co-workers needed to investigate why you hadn’t shown up to the staff lounge to eat, and were soon knocking on your window to demand answers for your absence. 

“Mija, what’s going on? Why aren’t you at lunch?” Maria demanded as she barged through your door, quickly followed by Estelle and Linda. “I’ve been dying to tell you about what Carlos’s younger brother did today during math and- Oh, cariño, you look terrible.” Maria’s train of thought seemed to come to a complete halt as soon as she locked eyes with you, hunched over your desk with heavy eyes and grimaced face. 

“Rude, Maria, dios mío.” Linda groaned, giving Maria a sharp jab to her ribs at her friend’s bluntness before looking over at you, trying her best not to comment as directly at your disheveled appearance. “No offense, honey, but you look like you do not feel well at all. Are you okay?” 

“It’s fine, I feel terrible so I’m sure I don’t look any better.” You huffed, scrunching your face as you stood up, trying to fight your nausea as you came to your feet. “I’ve been throwing up all morning, and when I’m not throwing up, I feel so nauseous that I want to throw up.” 

“Mija, why are you not at home?! I need to come over and smack some sense into that husband of yours for letting you go to work today.” Maria scolded, glaring at you with disapproval, arms crossed against her chest. 

“It’s not Javi’s fault, he tried to get me to stay home today too, but you guys know what a pain it is to make sub plans. It was just easier to come in today.” You sighed, your eyes traveling back and forth between your co-workers in front of you and the trash can beside your desk, feeling an uncomfortable lump creeping up from your stomach and into your throat. 

“So Javi’s not sick?” Estelle asked, shaking your head no silently in response. 

“Well it’s probably not food poisoning then…” Linda pondered, trying to diagnose your ailments, “unless you ate the grilled cheese they were serving in the cafeteria yesterday, because that definitely looked questionable. No kids in your class with the stomach bug? Chucho’s not sick?” 

You shook your head no again, this time, your eyes solely locked on the trash can, trying with everything in you to keep down whatever was bubbling up. 

The women stood quietly, thinking to themselves to try and come up with a solution for your sickness, seemingly stumped, until an ear to ear grin began to creep across Maria’s face. 

“Maybe it is Javi’s fault.” 

“Aye, aye, aye, Maria, what do you think the man did, try to poison her?” Estelle asked, the rest of you staring at Maria in complete confusion as to how Javi had anything to do with your current state. 

It was then that Linda suddenly seemed to catch on to Maria’s subtle suggestion, her smile lighting up just as bright as her co-workers while you stood there in an ever nauseous confusion. 

“What am I missing?” Estelle  asked, looking back and forth between Linda and Maria, the two ladies both standing with arms crossed and brows raised, smirking and nodding at their friend. 

“Mija, any chance that you don’t just feel nauseous, hmmm? Perhaps, emotional, tired, achy?” 

“I- I mean, yeah, but it’s the second week of school, Maria, I think everyone is tired and emotional and probably achy, too.” You groaned, scrunching your face and swallowing hard to keep the unpleasant feeling creeping up your throat at bay. 

“Oooooooooohhhhhh.” Estelle cooed, connecting the dots of Maria’s cryptic symptom description, the 3 ladies standing in a giddy mutual suspicion for your current state. 

You stood there, in a silent stare down of confusion, eyes darting back and forth between your giggling co-workers, waiting in an anxious anticipation for you to read their minds and understand why they were suddenly filled with so much glee watching you practically keel over at your desk. 

Suddenly, it hit you. 

A final, violent wave of nausea crashed through you, frantically reaching for your trashcan to bury your face in as you threw up what little you had managed to eat today, your newly emptied stomach making way for a new, very different type of wave than the one you had just experienced. 

An inevitable wave of clarity. A surmounting wave of realization. A wave of piecing together all of the little clues your body had been leaving you. 

Nauseous. 

Tired. 

Emotional. 

Sore. 

And now that you were thinking about it, your period was supposed to have started 3 days ago. 

“Oh my god…” You whispered into your trash can, hands shaking and heart racing out of your chest. “Do you think- Do you think that I’m-” 

“Mija, all I will say, is that when I found out I was pregnant with all three of my boys, I didn’t feel much different from how you are now.” Maria smirked, cutting off the rest of your drawn out thought.

Trying to find any words in your haze of disbelief, the shrill ringing of the lunch bell flooded your classroom, the 4 of you realizing that despite your new revelation, you had classrooms full of children you needed to go retrieve and teach for the rest of the day. 

“Oh, of course this is when the lunch bell decides to ring…” Linda huffed, rolling her eyes as the dinging continued, the ladies now quickly scampering towards the door to avoid getting a scolding from the cafeteria workers about being late to pick up their class because they were chatting. 

“W-wait-” You stammered, slowly trailing behind them, trying to catch their attention before they were too far gone, “Please don’t tell anyone about this. If Chucho or Javi find out before I can tell them, I-” 

“Oh honey, I know we gossip and gab like it’s no one’s business, but all of us have been in your same shoes before and wouldn’t dare ruin your special moment for you, if that’s what it turns out to be.” Estelle smiled, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance, her eyes glistening with a genuine confirmation that your secret was safe with them. 

“Besides,” Maria laughed, subtly lifting her gaze towards the sky, “If we ruined this moment for you and Javi, I think Lucia would find a way to come back from the dead, strike us all down where we stand, then drag us all back with her.” 

“Thank you.” You sighed, softly smiling at your co-workers, grateful for their understanding, a small twinge of sadness behind all of your laughter, knowing how excited Javi’s mom would have been to find out there was a chance she was finally getting the grandchild she had always longed for. 

“Now go, get out whatever is left of your lunch before the kids come back. We’ll get them from the lunchroom. Lord knows that you could be crawling towards your death bead and those little monsturos (monsters) wouldn’t show you any mercy.” 

As if perfectly on cue, another unpleasant grumble began to growl in your stomach, hunching back over your poor trash can as your co-workers scurried away, leaving you to ponder how in the world you were going to make it through this afternoon if the nerve wracking suspense, or more likely, knee-buckling nausea, didn’t kill you first. 

Some way or another, you managed to make it to the last bell, locking up your classroom and sprinting out to your car before the last busses had even left, driving like a NASCAR racer to the nearest drugstore. You left CVS with no less than 3 different types of pregnancy tests, not wanting to take any chances that something strange or faulty was going to stop you from getting the answers you had been dying to know since lunch. 

The rest of your ride home was a terribly unsettling mixture of nerves and anticipation, wondering if the pounding feeling in your gut was because you actually needed to vomit, or you were just so anxious that you felt like you could at any second regardless. 

As you pulled into your driveway, you were thankful to find that there wasn’t some strange reason that Javi had beaten you home today, grabbing your shopping bag of pregnancy tests from the front seat, and foregoing anything else you had to bring in from your car as you bolted to the front door. 

Your dog, Bear, was ecstatic to greet you upon your return home, his tail wildly wagging and thumping as you walked through your entryway, feeling guilty for not giving him the same amount of prolonged love and attention you normally would when you returned home, rushing him to the backyard to go to the bathroom after being inside all day so you could do the same. 

While Bear trotted around in your backyard, finding a good place to do his business, you were rushing over to your kitchen, rustling through your cupboards to find a cup you wouldn’t be mad had to go to waste because it had been filled with your pee. Eventually, you were able to find an old, chipped “Everything is Bigger in Texas” mug, with letters so faded that you honestly were even unaware of its existence until this point. Worst case, if it was a special mug that Javi secretly loved, you were sure a positive pregnancy test would warrant its use to be filled with your urine. 

Bear let out a happy bark at the backdoor, stumbling his way into the house and immediately gluing himself to your side, practically in lock step with you as you grabbed your mug and CVS bag before making your way up the stairs to your bedroom, plowing open the attached bathroom door to spread your contents all over the countertop. 

Normally, you would have been a little annoyed that Bear had followed you into the bathroom and plopped himself down right next to your feet as you sat on the toilet, awkwardly shifting the mug between your legs, focusing as hard as you could to pee, but there was something calming about your big, goofy, golden retriever settling right beside you, keeping you company. 

After you had finished peeing way more than probably needed into the cup, you carefully set it next to you on the counter, grabbing each box of pregnancy tests and opening them to read the instruction manual inside before plucking a wrapped test out of each. 

Your hands were shaking so badly at this point, you were shocked you hadn’t dropped anything yet, because knowing your luck, it would have been the cup of pee all over your bathroom floor. Carefully, you unwrapped each of your 3 tests with trembling hands, uncapping each before dipping them into the yellow liquid, ready to embark on the longest 5 minutes and 15 seconds of your life. 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

With all of your tests dipped, you flipped them face down, looking over at the digital clock by your toothbrushes to see its bright red numbers read “4:52”, readying yourself to count down the seconds until it reached “4:57”. 

Years may have well been passing with each minute that went by, anxiously pacing back and forth across the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, every single emotion you had ever felt in your entire life now festering at the forefront of your mind, feeling like your life was flashing before your eyes, time ticking down before 3 little plastic sticks determined if the course of your life was about to be forever changed. 

The excitement of picturing your belly grow, carrying life that you and Javi had made, knowing what a good father Javi would be, and what an amazing family the two of you, maybe soon to be three of you would have together. 

The anxiety of wondering if you were fit to be a mom, all the mistakes you could make in raising a tiny little human and bringing them into a world you wouldn’t always be able to protect them from. 

The bittersweet melancholy of watching your friends and family embrace your child into their lives, showering it with love and joy, when some of the people that you and Javi had cared about most wouldn’t be there to partake. 

The indescribable feeling of knowing that your life would never be the same- for better, for worse, through the highest highs and lowest lows, your journey would no longer be just about you or Javi, it would be for your own little family. 

You could feel your heart practically beating out of your chest as you paced up and down the length of your bathroom, Bear trailing behind you in lock step as you took your final lap, watching the clock finally hit 4:57. 

For as badly as you wanted to look, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the first test you grabbed still flipped over in your hands, test results facing the bathroom counter. 

You took three deep breaths, each one longer and slower than the last, holding the test in your trembling hands before opening your eyes to see the fate of yours and Javi’s future laying in your palms. Because there in your hands, was the start to the rest of your lives. 

Two pink lines. 

You almost couldn’t believe it, frantically scrambling for the other two tests, flipping them over much more haphazardly than you had the first, praying with everything in you that the first test wasn’t just a fluke. 

Two more sets of two pink lines. 

“Oh my god…. Oh my god?!” You whispered to yourself, tears beginning to well in your eyes in blissful disbelief, mouth shooting over your hand to cover the audible gasp that escaped your lips, now stretched in the widest smile to have ever graced your face. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Oh my god?!” You couldn’t stop chanting it, the phrase spilling out of your mouth as the only sentence your brain could manage to comprehend. 

Holding each test up one at a time, over and over, you kept inspecting them, making sure your eyes weren’t playing some sort of dirty trick on you, that you were imagining the extra line you had wanted so desperately to be there. After holding up each test in every corner of your bathroom, triple checking under any different lighting you could find, there was absolutely no denying that you weren’t crazy or imagining things in the slightest. 

You were pregnant. 

You stared at your tests for what felt like hours, so overwhelmed with joy and emotion by those two pink lines, that there was nothing else in the world that existed in that moment besides you and the new life you had beginning to grow inside you.  Tears welled in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you tried to process everything you were feeling, body trembling with astonishment and shock. 

You were going to be a mom. Javi was going to be a dad.  

Javi was going to be a dad. 

Javi. 

Oh my god, you needed to tell Javi. 

The realization struck you enough to rattle you out of your staggered state, heart racing even faster as you came to the realization that you needed to let your husband in on the happiest news of your life. 

So lost in your own world upstairs, you had been paying no attention to the time- For all you knew, past 4:57, time simply didn’t exist anymore. But for everyone else that wasn’t living in your blissfully unaware bubble, including Javi, time existed just as it did on any other day, and the all too familiar of his truck pulling into the garage as the door rumbled open meant that the time of day he made his arrival at home had come. 

When you thought about telling Javi about your pregnancy, you had imagined some sort of cute surprise for him- Balloons, a cute baby onesie, a pregnancy test wrapped up in a box, maybe even a mug with #1 dad on the side. But as Javi’s key turned in the door, his footsteps trailing downstairs, you knew there was no way you could keep your news a secret long enough to even make it out of the bathroom without telling him, and in all actuality, your body was still in such a state of shock that you don’t think it would have let you move, even if you tried. 

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Javi shouted, tossing his keys and work bag on the kitchen counter, pausing for a moment as he waited for your response. Hearing Javi’s voice, Bear barreled through the bathroom door, sprinting downstairs to greet him, leaving you alone, still frozen in place, pregnancy test in hand. 

“Hey, buddy!” You heard Javi greet your dog from your statue-esq position from the bathroom, “How’s my good boy, huh? Where’s your mom? Osita? Where are you, baby?” With a few happy barks, Bear was scrambling across the hardwood of the kitchen floor, bolting his way back up the stairs, paws thumping with every step. You could hear Javi beginning to follow behind, pace quickening as he followed the path of your dog. 

“Hermosa? You upstairs?” You could sense the concern growing in Javi’s voice at your lack of response, making his way to the top of the stairs. 

It was like the pathway from your brain to your mouth had completely shut down, trying to speak, to say anything to let Javi know where you were, but the sudden wave of nerves that had overtaken your body had only left you more stuck, praying that where you were was the first place he’d come to look. 

“Baby, are you up here? Are you okay?” Javi asked, hearing his voice travel closer to you as he nearly sprinted down the hallway, finding his way to your shared bedroom. Seeing the light beaming out of your bathroom gave him some sense of relief that he may find you there, trying to steady his nervous breathing as he peeked through the doorway. 

“J-Javi-” You sobbed, your tears immediately making Javi wrap his arms around you, embracing you in the tightest hug he could, cradling the back of your head as he held you pressed against his chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhhhhh, baby, it’s okay. I’m here.” Javi cooed, gently swaying you back and forth in his grasp, giving you a moment to collect yourself as he felt your tears begin to subside. “What’s wrong, Osita? Got me worried sick when I couldn’t find you.” 

His hand shifted to cup your cheek, forcing your gaze up at him, carefully wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks with his thumb, the concern pooling in his big brown eyes only overwhelming you with more emotion. 

You were honestly shocked that Javi hadn’t noticed the test still in your hand or the other two on the bathroom counter, quietly laughing through your happy tears, making Javi cock his head in utter confusion. 

“Osita, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Javi asked, completely puzzled by your response. 

You gently tilted your head towards the bathroom counter where your pregnancy tests lay scattered across its surface. At first, you were convinced that Javi was so concerned about you, he didn’t notice anything suspicious, his eyes quickly darting over to the counter before shifting back to you, his face even more confused than before. 

You nodded back to the counter again, this time making the motion a little more obvious, staring at the tests until Javi’s gaze wandered in the same direction as yours, heart pounding in your chest as you watched his expression shift from complete and utter confusion to absolute disbelief. 

Javi’s hand was trembling as he reached down towards the counter, carefully picking up one of the tests. With two glaringly obvious pink lines staring back at him, Javi’s jaw all but hit the floor while you watched in real time as he put together the pieces of your puzzle. 

“Oh my- Holy Fuck. Holy Fuck. Osita, baby, oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Baby, are- are you serious?” Javi whispered, his voice trembling in disbelief, convinced that what he was seeing was too good to be true. 

“I took 3 different tests. They’re all positive. Javi… We’re gonna have a baby.” You smiled, wetness streaming down your cheeks as you beamed at your husband, watching the gears in his mind turn as he processed that what he had heard was real. 

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He repeated, whispering it like the world’s most precious secret, the look on his face shifting from disbelief to pure and utter joy with each word. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Javi.” 

“I’m- I’m gonna be a dad? I’m gonna be a dad. We’re really gonna have a baby?” He choked out, his smile so wide you were convinced his face had to hurt with how hard it was scrunched. 

“We’re really gonna have a baby.” You confirmed, just as much as yourself as for him, reaching up to grab his face, making sure he watched your head nod in the happiest agreement you’d ever made to anyone. 

Scooping his arms under your thighs, he hoisted you up to let your legs lock around the small of his back, spinning you around the bathroom, the two of you exploding his blissful laughter, giggles and tears while he peppered kisses all over your face. 

“Oh, I love you so fucking much, Osita. I love both of you so fucking much. You're gonna be such a good mom.” Javi beamed, carefully setting you back down as he dropped to his knees in front of you, both hands splayed across your stomach while his peppering of kisses moved to your belly. “Oh my god. Holy fuck. You swear you’re being serious? You’re really pregnant?” 

“Yes, I’m being serious, Jav! That’s why I bought 3 different tests. I wouldn’t have believed it either.” You giggled, cheeks sore from your smile. 

“When did you- When did you find out?” Javi questioned, expression still plastered with the best bewildered astonishment you could imagine, hand still resting on your stomach as he stood up. 

“Literally, like, 10 minutes before you got home. Sorry, I didn’t have a better way to surprise you, I picked up the tests on the way home and I-” 

“Baby, why are you apologizing? You literally just gave me the best surprise I could have ever asked for. I’m so fucking happy. So, so, SO fucking happy.” Javi grinned, unable to keep from kissing you, barely letting you breathe with the way he was smothering you with excited pecks of his lips. “Holy shit. I can’t fucking believe it. We’re gonna have a baby.” 

You could feel your heart swell at the way Javi’s hand had become instantly glued to your stomach, thumb rubbing across the cotton of your shirt, over and over, already filled with so much love and adoration for the soon to be new addition to your family. 

“Makes a little more sense why I was such a jerk to you this morning when I was getting ready to leave.” You sighed, apologetically rolling your eyes at Javi for your snappy behavior before leaving for work. 

“Honey, first of all, you were not a jerk, second of all, you’re pregnant, and even if you weren’t, I felt bad and just wanted to help you feel better.” Javi smiled, boyish grin still stretching ear to ear as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Is that what made you take a pregnancy test when you got home?” 

“Oh you’ll get a kick outta this one.” You laughed, playfully raising an eyebrow at Javi, “Obviously I felt like shit at work today, which makes sense now, but the rest of my team came in during lunch time and were asking me how I could have gotten the stomach bug if no one else I knew had it, and you weren’t sick either, so it couldn’t have been food poisoning, either. Then of course, someone-” 

“Maria?” Javi scoffed, knowing exactly where your story was heading

“Are we shocked? Yes, of course it was Maria.” You shook your head, the both of you laughing, “Anyways, she asked if I felt anything other than just nauseous, and after thinking about it, I realized that I’ve been crying at everything, my boobs hurt like a bitch, and I was supposed to get my period 3 days ago. She may be crazy, but sometimes, she knows what she’s talking about.” 

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she insisted that regardless of being a boy or girl, this baby needs to be named Maria.” The two of you chuckled, Javi’s hand never leaving your stomach, thumb gently stroking over your t-shirt, his goofy grin subtly shifting to a more serious scrunch. 

“You okay, Jav?” You asked, tilting your head at Javi’s new look. 

“We should call the doctor’s office, right? Do you think they’re still open? Do we have to schedule an ultrasound or do they do that? Do you want me to go get you vitamins or did you already start taking those? Should I-” 

“Easy, Papa Bear.” You snickered, somehow not surprised in the slightest that Javi had shifted into “Dad Mode” immediately, his mind automatically shifting to what would become the never ending worry of making sure that you and your baby got everything you’d ever need. “We can call tomorrow. We won’t even have an appointment for the next few weeks so it’ll be okay.” 

“Few weeks? What do you mean?” Javi replied, looking even more distressed. 

“Normally you don’t have an ultrasound done until like, 8 weeks along.” 

“That’s way too long. 8 weeks?! How are we supposed to know everything’s okay?!” 

You knew Javi’s panic was genuine, but you couldn’t help but giggle. You were well aware that Javi would make a great dad, but you had no idea that his protective dad instincts would set in only minutes after finding out the news that you were pregnant. 

Your laughter only lasted so long until the same, uncomfortable feeling began to build in your throat, reaching down for the trash can next to the sink, wrenching up the nibbles of your lunch you thought you’d managed to keep down. 

“Oh honey, shit- it’s okay, Osita.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing your back with your face still buried in the trash can.

“This is really adding to the magic of the moment, isn’t it? Oof, this baby is gonna give me a run for my money, huh?” You grimaced, pulling your head out of the waste basket, one of Javi’s hands on the small of your back, the other over your stomach. 

“Nah. I do think she’s gonna end up being strong willed like her mom, though.” Javi smirked, gently kissing your forehead. 

“Javi, I’ve been pregnant for all of 30 minutes, there’s no way you know if it’s a girl or not.” 

“She’s a girl. I have a feeling.” 

Month 2  

“Javi, baby, I love you, but if you keep holding my hand this tight, I think you’re gonna break it.” 

You were almost positive that Javi had been keeping a better track of the days counting down to your first ultrasound appointment than you had. He had even insisted on taking the entire day off work even though you weren’t leaving school until 12:00, and your appointment wasn’t until 2:00. Now that it was 2:15, sitting in your OBGYN’s office, waiting for your name to be called to see your doctor, it was clear that your husband was much more of a nervous wreck than you figured you needed to account for. 

“S-sorry. Sorry. I just really wanna see ‘em, ya know? Make sure everything’s okay.” Javi sighed, knowing he most definitely was more anxious than he needed to be, the hand not easing its grip on yours, gently rubbing your nearly invisible bump. 

“I know, me too.” You smiled, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his palm for a few moments before lifting it up to your mouth to kiss it. 

“Peña?” a voice called from the front of the waiting room, you and Javi perking up instantly at your last name. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the fact you knew it was taking everything in Javi not to sprint to the door the nurse was holding open for you, so excited to see your baby for the first time, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have jumped up on the exam table himself once you got to your room. 

“How’s it going, Mom and Dad?” The nurse asked, smiling at you as you followed behind her down the hallway leading towards the exam rooms before stopping at a small cove at the front of the path. “We’re just gonna take some quick vitals and then we’ll get you all set up in the room okay?” 

“It’s been good! Well besides feeling super nauseous and exhausted all the time, but ya know.” You laughed, giving the nurse a little shrug as you sat down in the chair next to the blood pressure machine as she began to take your vitals. 

“But that’s normal though, right? Like, we shouldn’t be worried about that?” Javi asked, leg bouncing as he stood next to you, propped up against the wall. 

“Yes, it’s all perfectly normal. Unfortunately, growing a baby isn’t always the most pleasant experience, so it’s very common, especially in the first trimester, for Mom to feel pretty worn out.” The nurse nodded, writing down some information before gesturing for you to step on the scale, taking a few more notes. 

“Told you I’m okay.” You snickered, giving Javi a little nudge. 

“I know, I just feel awful that you feel so miserable, ya know?” Javi sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling that this would be the first of many worried I told you so’s during this appointment. 

“Alright, well we’re just gonna draw some blood and take a urine sample, and then we will have you all ready to meet with Dr. Davis, okay?” The nurse grinned, helping you back over to the chair to have your blood drawn, cocking her head at the pained look on your face. 

“Is it um- can I do the urine test first? I need to pee so bad.” You grimaced, not wanting to throw off your nurse’s pattern of practice, but also worrying you were going to pee your pants if you didn’t go to the bathroom in the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh, of course, my bad, go right ahead. Down the hall and to the left.” She smiled, handing off the collection cup as you practically sprinted down the hallway, your nurse and Javi laughing at your need for speed. 

“First baby?” Your nurse asked, smirking at Javi, nervously gnawing on the inside of his cheeks. 

“Y-yeah. How’d you know?” He asked. 

“I’ve been doing this job for a long time, honey. Nine times out of ten, the dads are way more nervous than the moms are.” She grinned, tilting her head with a little shrug. 

“Yeah, I’d uh- I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind, but I- um, God, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to be a dad.” It’s a good thing you were still in the bathroom, because seeing the way Javi was beaming from ear to ear at finally becoming a father probably would have sent you into a spell of hormonal sobs. In the past few weeks, his adamant enthusiasm about his journey into fatherhood had you on the brink of tears nearly every day from how thankful you were for your amazing husband. 

After your return with your very full cup of pee, and squeezing Javi’s hand extra tight through your blood draw, you were escorted down to your exam room, leaving you and Javi to patiently wait for your OBGYN’s arrival to let you get a first glimpse at your baby. 

“You look really hot in that paper skirt.” Javi teased, raising his eyebrows at you, gently tugging at the thin covering you’d been offered for your bottom half to give your doctor easy access for your exam. 

“You just like it because you can keep peeking underneath it and I don’t have anything on.” You sighed, playfully rolling your eyes back at him. You paused for a moment, taking a quiet deep breath as you stared down at your feet, Javi immediately picking up on your silent shift in tone. 

“You okay, Osita?” He asked, gently grabbing your hand and interlocking it with his while his free hand splayed across your stomach. 

“Yeah. I think all the nerves are actually starting to really kick in now, ya know? Like, we’re about to see our baby today for the first time.” 

It would have been easy to blame your pregnancy hormones for the emotional rollercoaster you were experiencing in the OB’s office, but with the way Javi’s eyes were welling with tears too, you felt a little less crazy for being so overwhelmed by the thought of getting to see the tiny human you were growing inside you. 

A quiet knock on the other side of the door was enough to startle you and Javi, turning your attention as a figure peeked through the small gap with a soft, and sweet voice.  

“Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” 

“H-hi, yeah, come in.” Javi stammered, eagerly inviting in your doctor, Dr. Davis. 

“Hello, it’s so nice to see you two! How exciting that we’re here for our first visit!” Dr. Davis grinned, giving you and Javi each a friendly nod before settling into her rolling chair next to her desk, “How’s everything been going so far?” 

The way Javi had begun to squeeze even tighter on your hand was making it nearly impossible not to giggle, giving him a little pinch of reassurance back before answering. 

“Good so far. I mean, tired and nauseous, but other than that, can’t complain. I mean, obviously nervous, but also just really excited too.” You beamed, Dr. Davis smiling at your response before looking over at Javi, anxiously drumming the fingers of his free hand against his leg. 

Well that’s good to hear. It most certainly is a very exciting and nervous time, especially with your first. How about you, Dad? How have you been doing?” 

“Oh- m-me?” Javi asked, pointing to himself, shocked that Dr. Davis would have any interest in asking how he’d been, “Oh good, yeah, I mean, nervous as hell, but like, the good kind of nervous. Just wanna make sure I’m doing whatever I can to help.” 

“Well Mr. Peña, it seems like you very clearly care about your wife and your baby, and if you keep that up, you’re doing everything you can.” Dr. Davis grinned, shooting you a little wink at the providing the reassurance your husband very clearly needed. “Alright, well I know one of our nurses already took some blood and urine samples, but we’re just gonna check a few things out and ask some questions, but after we finish with that, we’ll do our first ultrasound and get a chance to look at Baby, okay?” 

“Okay.” You and Javi answered in sync, smiling at each other from your timely response. 

It seemed that Javi’s nerves had at least eased a little bit, until you watched him fumble around in the back pocket of his jeans, face growing panicked at the lack of whatever he seemed to be looking for. 

“You okay, Jav?” 

“Yeah, I just, shit-” He paused, grimacing at his empty pocket, “I thought I bought a notepad and pen to write stuff down on, but I must have left it in the car…” 

Quietly chuckling to herself, Dr. Davis reached into a drawer in her desk, pulling out a sheet of blank paper, along with one of the pens from her coat pocket to pass over to Javi.

“T-thanks.” Javi sighed sheepishly, trying to hide his embarrassment as he took the pen and paper. 

“Mr. Peña, if there is one thing you most certainly do not need to worry about, it’s how loved this baby of yours is going to be.” 

While you had truly considered giving Javi shit about how hell bent he was on documenting every single word that came out of Dr. Davis’s mouth, 45 minutes into your appointment, you couldn’t have been more thankful you had someone there taking notes for you, all of the information, questions, and hypotheticals of bringing a new baby into the world making your head spin. 

All of the questions you had planned had seemed to have magically disappeared from your brain, overwhelming anxiety about trying to plan for the health and safety of your future child throwing everything else in your mind out the window. 

While it had taken a moment for you to even realize how stressed you were, Javi had picked up on it immediately, suddenly shifting to become the anchor in your storm that you had been for him. With one hand on your stomach, and the other furiously scratching down notes, Javi had managed to remember every question the two of you had talked about, making sure to have Dr. Davis elaborate on anything you even seemed slightly concerned about. 

Even though you had felt like a terrible mother for already being too overwhelmed to remember a few simple questions, the way Javi had switched into Dad Mode without a single thought or ask had filled you with such calm and relief, falling even more in love with him at how immediately protective he became without so much as a second thought. 

After an hour and two full pages, front and back, filled with Javi’s chicken scratch, Dr. Davis had finished with her part of the exam, and Javi had asked enough questions to fill a small book. You weren’t sure it was because you physically couldn’t fathom coming up with another question to ask, or if both of your brains were just too overwhelmed with information to come up with anything else, but after a confirmation you and Javi had nothing else to ask as of right now, she lit up as she asked the question the two of you had been dying to hear since you booked your appointment. 

“Would you like to see Baby Peña for the first time?” 

Despite how badly your hands were shaking, as Javi intertwined his fingers with yours, you were convinced his were trembling even worse, his eyes locked on on every move Dr. Davis had to make as she set up for your ultrasound. 

“Alright, this is going to be a little bit cold here, sorry.” Dr. Davis apologized, squirting a small glob of gel onto your lower stomach, trying your best not to squirm and giggle at the ticklish sensation. 

After a few more clicks on her keyboard, Dr. Davis had grabbed the ultrasound transducer, gently beginning to rub the tool back and forth across your belly as fuzzy, black and white images began to appear on her screen. 

“Now, with you almost being nine weeks, we’re most likely only going to see a blob of a head and a body, but I’m hoping that we may also get to hear Baby’s heartbeat for the first time as well.” Dr. Davis smiled, watching yours and Javi’s faces light up. 

“I’m sure whatever they look like, they’ll be the most perfect little blob I’ve ever seen.” Javi grinned, squeezing your hand even tighter, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“I’ve never been more excited to see a black and white blob in my entire life.” You giggled softly, Javi and Dr. Davis snickering right along with you. 

“Oh, give me one second, I think we found ‘em.” Dr. Davis muttered to herself, clicking on a few more buttons on her keyboard and turning the screen back towards her to get a better view. 

In the few moments of silence, you looked up at Javi, trying your best to fight the tears you had welling in the corners of your eyes at the thought of finally being able to see your baby for the first time. As Javi looked back down at you, you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at the way his eyes were already welling too, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from bursting into full blown tears. 

Although you had never known Javi before his newly settled life in Laredo, it was moments like these where you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that a man who had once chased down the most hardened Cartel criminals in the entire world, who had written off any chance at a ‘normal’ life for himself, had turned out to be the biggest softie in the entire world, head over heels in love with you, trying to keep from sobbing as he prepared himself for seeing his baby for the first time. 

Watching you snicker to yourself, Javi rolled his eyes, shaking his head as you teased him, quietly mouthing a playful “Shut up”  to you, knowing damn well he was already a mess without even seeing your black and white blob for the first time. 

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Peña, are you ready to see your baby?” 

The two of you quietly nodded, each taking a long, shaky deep breath as Dr. Davis slowly turned her screen back towards you, finger pointed at a small shape in the middle of her display. 

“There’s Baby Peña.” She smiled softly, gently circling around where her finger had been  pointing. 

As yours and Javi shifted your gazes from each others’ to the small screen beside you, a tiny, bean shaped form appeared, gently shifting with the black and white static of the machine. 

There, in front of you, was your baby. 

“T-that’s- that’s really them?” Javi stuttered, eyes excitedly darting back and forth between you, the screen and Dr. Davis, smile beaming so wide, you wouldn’t be surprised if his cheeks hurt for weeks after. 

“That’s really them.” Dr. Davis answered, smiling at the pure bliss radiating off of you and Javi. 

“That’s our baby, Jav.” You whispered, disregarding any attempts to keep from crying, too overwhelmed with the joy and excitement of seeing your child for the first time, “That’s really them.” 

You and Javi could have stared at the screen for hours, taking in every single detail your minds could commit to memory, streams of happy tears continuously flowing from the both of you, completely overjoyed to finally get the first glimpse at the life you had created together. 

“Would you two like to hear the heartbeat? I think I’ll be able to pick it up!” Dr. Davis asked, clacking on a few more keys. 

“Only if you wanna make me cry more.” You sniffled, “God, sorry I’m such a mess.” 

“Honey, after 20 years at this practice, I’ve seen just about every reaction under the sun. Do not worry. I was the same way when I had my first, too.” She paused, typing on a few more buttons and focusing on her screen, giving Javi a few seconds to help console you with sweet kisses across your temple, “alrighty, baby seems to be cooperating, so here is the heartbeat!” 

You and Javi held your breath, time standing still, until a light, rhythmic thump began to echo throughout the room, eyes going wide hearing your baby’s heartbeat. 

“Holy shit…” Javi whispered in disbelief, looking down at you with an ear to ear grin and watering eyes. “Baby, holy shit, that’s- that’s ours. That’s our baby.” 

You and Javi sat still, time seeming to freeze around you as the soft thump of your baby’s heartbeat flooding you with a wave of love and excitement you had never felt before, so overwhelmed with euphoria, you could have sat and listened to the sound for hours. 

“Everything about the baby looks absolutely great so far. Glad we were able to catch the heartbeat as well. I’m guessing you’d probably like some ultrasound pictures to take home with you?” Dr. Davis asked, smiling with a grin that very clearly told you she already knew the answer. 

“Yes.” You and Javi agreed in unison, barely letting Dr. Davis finish her sentence before you answered. 

“Alright. Let me capture a few images here,” Dr. Davis paused, focusing in on the screen while moving the ultrasound around on your lower stomach before saving the image displayed next to you, “and we should be good! We’ll have these ready for you when you go to check out. Any other questions before I send you two, or should I say, three, off today?” 

“N-no, I think I’m good. You have any other questions, honey?” Javi asked, interlacing his fingers with yours before gently kissing your forehead. 

“Well, um- actually- I uh, I guess I do have one more.” You stammered, quietly laughing to yourself, catching Javi’s attention, “Is it um- It’s okay for us to have sex still, right?” 

You looked over at Javi with a sheepish grin, snickering at the way his eyes had gone wide in pleasant surprise at your question. With how nauseous and tired you had been feeling, combined with Javi’s rampant nerves that even if you were up to it, he was going to hurt the baby, it had been over a month since the two of you had last gone at it. Sweet Javi had never brought it up once, so concerned with your well being that you knew he’d stick to taking care of himself by himself as long as he needed to- a small price to pay for  you literally growing his child inside you. But now that you were finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel for feeling like you had been hit by a bus every day, you knew it wouldn’t be much longer until you were going to need to break your self-induced run of pregnant celibacy. And when that time came, you knew even then, Javi wasn’t doing anything unless it had a doctor’s seal of approval. 

“Perfectly normal question. Yes, as long as you feel up to it, it’s absolutely safe. If you feel any discomfort or pain during intercourse, just give us a call and let us know and we can schedule an appointment, but other than that, yes, it’s perfectly okay.” Dr. Davis smiled, laughing at the way Javi was trying his best to keep from smirking. 

“Y-you’re sure it’s okay to-”

“Yes, I’m sure, Mr. Peña.” Dr. Davis chuckled, cutting off Javi’s sentence before he could finish asking his question. “Alright, why don’t we get you two checked out, and Laura at the front desk can get your next appointment scheduled for you. Have a wonderful rest of your day, and I’ll see you soon. Feel free to call if you have any questions.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, you and Javi both giving Dr. Davis a wave as she exited the room, letting the door quietly close behind her. 

“I hope you know I would fuck you right here, right now in this doctor’s office, paper skirt and all.” Javi smirked, eyeing you up and down as you slid off the edge of the table, bunching up your thin, crinkly covering to throw into the trash before reaching for your pants folded up on the chair next to you. 

“I knew the doctor’s office paper skirt would really do it for you.” You giggled, shimmying up your underwear and pants as you playfully rolled your eyes at Javi. 

“I hope you didn’t ask because of me. You know I’ll do whatever you need me to. If you don’t want me to touch you for the next 7 months, I truly am okay. I just want you to feel comfortable, baby.” Javi sighed, his tone shifting to genuine and sincere, hitting you with his big, brown puppy dog eyes as he wrapped his arm around your waist, thumb softly stroking your stomach. 

“I know, Jav. Now that I’ve actually been starting to not feel completely awful and can focus on something other than not needing to throw up every 5 minutes, I wanted to make sure that I had the okay, so, ya know.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows at Javi, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“Let’s go get this paperwork.” Javi smirked back, giving you a quick peck on your lips and a playful wink, collecting all of his notes as he opened the door for you, making it incredibly obvious that he was checking you out as you passed by him. 

“Horndog.” You giggled, pretending to scold him. 

“I’m not the one who asked, Osita.” 

You were positive that Javi’s hand hadn’t left your hip, hand, stomach or thigh from the moment you had left the doctor’s office, his thumb gently rubbing in soft circles against you, accompanied the dimple creasing in the corner of his cheek from the way his boyish smirk was plastered across his face the entire drive home. 

It was almost comical at the way Javi was so eager to help you out of the car and into the house, carefully helping you to put away everything from the appointment, asking you if there was anything that you needed, following you around the kitchen like a wide eyed puppy. 

You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach in a way that wasn’t about to make you vomit for the first time in weeks, heart swelling at the way you could tell Javi was patiently and nervously waiting for you to make a move before he dared to do anything, knowing he would keep good on his promise to let you take the lead.  

“Y-you sure you don’t need anything else? Lunch? More water? A nap?” Javi asked, resting his hip against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, trying his best to act nonchalant as you approached after noting down your next appointment date on your calendar. 

“Nope.” You grinned, popping the “P” at the end of the word, reaching out to grab at his waist, toying with the belt loops of his jeans, watching the denim of his pants begin to tent. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Just because the doctor gave you the okay, if you’re not comfortable, I-” 

Before he could finish, you cut him off with a kiss, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips lock with his, practically feeling him melt under your touch as his bulge poked at your thigh, continuing to grow as you rubbed against it. 

“Javier Peña, if you don’t take me upstairs and put your dick inside me right now, I swear.” You giggled in between kisses before you let out a gasp, Javi scooping his arms under your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist, frantically but carefully carrying you across the living room and up the stairs, letting his back push open the bedroom door. 

Carefully, he laid you down on the bed, caging his body over yours while he planted soft kisses down your neck and chest, feeling his lips smirk as they gently pressed against the barely there swell of your stomach. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Javi murmured under his breath, fingers toying with your waistband to tug your pants and underwear down your legs, letting them fall into a crumpled pile on the floor below you. “So fucking beautiful growing our baby.” 

Javi settled himself between your thighs, gently parting them to reveal the mess of slick and arousal coating the inside of them. You propped yourself up on your elbows, breath already heavy as you watched Javi run his fingers through your soaked folds, throwing your head back in delight while he slowly began to rub at your throbbing clit. 

Because you had been so preoccupied with the constant nausea and fatigue from the first few weeks of creating another living human being inside of you, it wasn’t until now you were becoming blatantly aware of how much more sensitive you were down there, your stomach already swirling with heightened sensation after a few seconds of Javi touching you. 

“Holy fuck-” You stammered, jaw going slack in pleasure, immediately catching Javi’s attention. 

“Good holy fuck or bad holy fuck?” He asked, concern flooding the sweet chocolate brown of his eyes. 

“Good holy fuck, oh my god. I feel like I’m about to cum already.” You whimpered, the worry washing from Javi’s face at your response, his once furrowed brow quickly replaced with a delighted smirk you could practically feel as buried his head between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit. 

If his fingers weren’t enough to make you feel like you were already on the edge of collapse, the slow and calculated drags of his tongue up and down your cunt most definitely were. One of your hands was instantly shooting down to brace yourself in the thick curls of Javi’s hair while the other one fisted at your bedsheets for dear life, readying yourself to face the rapid tingle growing at the base of your spine. 

The response to warmth and wet of his tongue swirling against your sensitive bundle of nerves was enough to make you whimper like he had been fucking you with his mouth for hours, not mere minutes, coil tightening in your stomach with every lick. 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh fuck, baby.” You moaned, grip tightening around your bedsheets, soft fabric curling between your fingers. 

All it took was a little more pressure from the flat of his tongue before you could feel yourself on the brink of collapse, pleasure starting to creep up your legs and through your core. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck- fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-ahhhh!” You sobbed, throwing your head back in bliss as your orgasm crashed through you, every inch of your body lighting up as you came. You could have sworn you were seeing stars, cutting some slack to your pregnancy hormones after weeks of being keeled over in exchange for one of the most intense orgasms you’d had in a while. 

Javi pulled his head out from in between your legs, smirking in awe of the way your moans fell from your slack jaw as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, mustache soaked with your slick. 

“You okay, baby girl?” He asked, peppering soft kisses to the insides of your thighs as you came back too, emerging from your post orgasmic fog. 

“Javi, holy fuck.” You gasped, still panting, “Oh my god, that felt so good.” 

“Yeah? Came so well for me, Momma.” Javi cooed, letting his lips trail up your hips and stomach, taking extra time to let his lips linger on the barely there swell of your belly before shedding your top and bra, dropping them next to your crumpled up bottoms. 

“Fuck- Need you to fuck me, Javi. Please, baby.” You moaned, reaching out to unbutton Javi’s jeans, erection already straining at the denim and zipper of his pants. Javi grinned, happily helping you tug his pants and underwear from his hips, quickly followed by his shirt, giving you a chance to gawk at his handsome, naked figure. 

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his already hard length, pumping him a few times with your hand before gently guiding him towards your entrance while both your bodies fell towards the mattress, Javi hovering over you. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” Javi whispered against your skin between gentle presses of his lips against your neck, “If you’re uncomfortable or anything, just let me-” 

“Javier Peña, if you do not put your dick inside me right now, I might cry.” You giggled softly, giddy smiles growing across both your faces as Javi ran his tip between your folds, collecting the slick pooling between them. 

Gently, Javi pushed himself inside your heat, letting him slowly pump in and out of you a few times before you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with a confused stare, feeling that something was off.  

“You can put it all the way in Jav.” You laughed, realizing Javi was barely pushing himself inside of you with each movement of his hips. 

“I don’t- I don’t wanna hurt the baby.” Javi grimaced sheepishly. 

“Javi…” You giggled, titling your head at him, “Baby, you’re big, but you’re not that big.” 

Javi sighed, quietly laughing to himself at your playful scolding before leaning down to softly press his lips to yours. 

“Just trying to be gentle, Osita.” 

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” You teased, biting down on your lip as you laughed, only for your jaw to drop as Javi slid deeper into your cunt, pressing his entire length in you. 

“Fuck, Javi…” You whimpered, head hitting the back of the mattress, trying to compose yourself from falling apart right then and there.

“Fuck, I missed this.” Javi whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slowly began to thrust his hips, taking his time with each stroke. “Driving me crazy every fuckin’ day with how beautiful you look carrying our baby.” 

Javi’s hand trailed down your front, softly splaying across your stomach while his thumb circled your skin, the familiar movement catching your attention enough to peak your head up at your husband, looking almost as disheveled as you in terms of self-preservation.

Javi took a long, deep breath, furrowing his brows in concentration as he stared at the ceiling, the rhythm of his hips coming to a standstill. 

“You alright there, big guy?” You giggled, knowing damn well the cause for the holdup. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I feel like a fucking teenager. First time we’ve fucked since we found out you were pregnant and I’m about to show up like some sort of fucking two pump chump ‘cause I can’t keep it together.” Javi groaned, eyes still glued to the drywall above him in embarrassment. 

 “Javi, baby, look at me.” You smiled, smirking at him. 

“I can’t, unless you want this to be over right now.” 

“While that’s very flattering, I find that very hard to believe, considering I threw up twice before we left for this doctor’s appointment and ate half a jar of pickles on the drive home and smell like I’ve been living inside a pickle factory for the better part of the past year.” 

“Jesus Christ.” He laughed, your joke enough to make him break, shifting his gaze down back at you. 

“Baby, you’re fine. Considering you deliver 99.9% of the time, and this is the first we’re having sex in a month and a half, I was planning on cutting you some slack.” You teased, giving him a little nudge, “Also, did you forget how you made me cum like, crazy hard 5 minutes ago? I didn’t realize how sensitive I was gonna be, and not to boost your ego any more than I have, but it’s not gonna take much for you to get me there.” 

Javi smiled, pecking kisses along your neck and collarbone as he brought the pads of his fingers to your clit, circling with just enough pressure to already send you reeling, beginning to pick back up the pace he had forgone. 

Your breath instantly hitched in the back of your throat, sucking the air out of your lungs as the head of Javi’s cock rammed perfectly into your g-spot. That, accompanied by the pads of his fingers swirling against your clit, had you absolutely reeling, whimpering and moaning with each snap of his hips. 

“Fuck me. Feel so fucking good, Osita.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, his free hand running up the back of your leg, gently pressing your thigh closer to your stomach, stretching you out in the way he knew drove you absolutely crazy. 

“Oh Javi, fuck, baby, holy fuck-” You whined, pleasure already swirling in your stomach. 

“That's my girl. Fuck, I can't wait to get you pregnant again, let everyone see how you're all mine carrying our baby. Gonna be such a good Mom, giving us a family, making me a dad. Oh fuck-” Javi groaned, his words hot against your skin between kisses along your neck and shoulder blade, shifting his grasp to cup one of your swollen breasts in his palm, fingers gently toying with the hardened buds of your nipples.

The added sensation was all it took to send you over the edge, orgasm crashing through your body with an unforgiving wave of intensity, pleasure radiating through every inch of you as your cunt clamped down around Javi's cock, gushing with your arousal as you came.

Knowing you had reached your end, Javi began to chase his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as your body melded with his, nearly going limp in his grasp from how good he had made you feel. 

“Mierda- fuck, baby. Gonna fill you up, I have- fuck- so much cum for you, and I- oh fuck!” 

Before he could ramble on any further, it only took a few more thrusts of Javi’s hips before he was spilling inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls as he came, palm splayed across the barely there swell of your stomach, holding you in place against the mattress. 

Your chests heaved in sync, breathless from a fast and furious performance after weeks of no sex, the both of you laughing at yourselves for your record breaking timing of the events that had just occurred. 

“That may be the fastest that either of us have came.” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before your face fell from a happy grin to sheepish frown, “Sorry that it’s been so long. You’ve been so patient, and with how nauseous I’ve been and-” 

“Nuh uh,” Javi shook his head, the plush of his bottom lip in a serious pout, “None of that. You do not need to apologize for anything. Honey, you’re growing a whole person inside of you. Our kid. All I wanna do is be there for whatever you need. Regardless of if that means this or not.”  

It should have been no surprise to you that tears were already beginning to well in your eyes, Javi’s consistently gentle and caring demeanor towards you with anything you’ve needed these past 8 weeks bringing you to the verge of tears from his sweetness practically on demand. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s good tears,” You sniffled, sighing at your own dramatics from your hormones as Javi wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks with his thumb, “You’re just always so good to me, and I love you so much, and you’re gonna be such a good dad.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” Javi smiled, softly cupping your belly in his grasp, “Whatever you need, you know I’ll always be there, okay?” 

“Okay.” You smiled back, rolling over to press your head against his chest, laying for a moment in serene silence until a low and long grumble sung from your stomach. “Does that include bringing me up the bag of sour gummy worms so I can eat them in bed and then take a nap?” 

“Of course it does.” Javi chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pressing himself up off of the bed with a grunt and slipping his boxers back on, “Anything else Baby wants?” 

“Whatever’s left of that chicken sandwich I had yesterday. And a glass of water. Please.” You grimaced sheepishly, shrugging at Javi as you tacked on to your list of requests. “And can you make sure the water is, like-” 

“90% ice cubes and 10% water?” Javi smirked, finishing the rest of your sentence and laughing to himself as you nodded your head. “Be right back.” 

Hey, Jav?” 

“Yeah, baby?” Javi answered, peeking his head back in the door he had just exited from. 

“We love you.” 

“I love you both of you too, Osita. More than you fucking know.”

3 Months 

“I swear I think they already know.” 

“Honey, how could they know?” 

“I don’t know, Connie just keeps giving me this look like she knows something.” 

After last year’s Thanksgiving extravaganza at Chucho’s ranch, where your family and the Murphy’s had joined together to celebrate your engagement, it seemed like an easy choice on everyone’s part to rinse and repeat for this year. 

It had been killing you and Javi to keep Baby Peña a secret for this long, but now that you had finally broken free of the first trimester and everyone you wanted to be the first to hear the news gathered together, Thanksgiving had seemed like the perfect day to announce that in a few months, a third member of the Peña family would be arriving. 

That is, if someone didn’t spill the beans on your surprise based on their intuition. 

With you and Javi alone in the kitchen finishing up the rest of the mashed potatoes before dinner, he discreetly ran his hand across your stomach, smiling at the barely there bump hidden under your sweater. 

“It’s just Connie being Connie.” Javi smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Besides, won’t be a surprise for that much longer.” 

“There’s a surprise?!” Your niece Olivia exclaimed, her sister and the Murphy girls barging into the kitchen behind her, scaring the daylights out of you and Javi. 

“Holy sh- cow, Liv, I didn’t see you there, sweetie!” You gasped, clutching your chest in shock, Javi’s hand immediately dropping from your stomach and diving into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Surprise?” Steve asked, following behind the girls, arms crossed over his chest, “is the surprise that your aunt and uncle are actually cookin’ instead of smoochin’ back here?”

“Ewwwwwwww!” The girls exclaimed, giggling as they stuck out their tongues before scampering away back to the living room. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Javi replied dryly, rolling his eyes at his friend. 

“Glad to see we’re keepin’ it PG in here.” Steve chuckled, giving Javi a little nudge of his elbow, “Seriously though, is there a surprise I should be knowin’ about?” 

“The surprise,” you grunted, lifting up the giant pot of potatoes you had just finished mashing and passing them off to Steve, trying to catch his balance with the newfound weight in his hands, “is that you get to carry these potatoes out to the table! Thank you so much!” 

“Pretty shitty fuckin’ surprise, if you ask me.” Steve groaned, scoffing at his newly appointed task while you and Javi laughed. 

“Tell everyone it’s time to eat, too. We just have a few more dishes to clean up!” You added, smirking at Steve’s annoyance. 

“Now I’m on wranglin’ duty, too? Damn, I regret ever comin’ in here.” 

With Steve mumbling to himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, potatoes in hand, you and Javi found yourselves alone again, smiling at each other and shaking your heads at your close call encounter. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Steve has no fucking clue, and it’ll be a complete surprise to him.” Javi chuckled, grabbing a few dishes off the counter and throwing them into the sink. 

“Now that, I’ll believe.” You giggled, nodding in agreement as you brought the last of the pots and pans over to be washed. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell everyone, I should feel relieved that we don’t have to keep this a secret anymore.” 

“Because it’s kind of a big deal, mi amor.” Javi laughed, giving you a little nudge, “I’m nervous too, but excited nervous, ya know? Can’t wait to tell everyone about ‘em.” 

“Stop it, or you’re gonna make me cry!” You sighed, trying to hold back your tears and Javi’s sweet smile. “Okay, everything’s good to go right? We should probably get out there before Steve comes barging in again.” 

“Good to go, Osita. Let’s get Baby some mashed potatoes.” 

Thanksgiving at Chucho’s was quickly becoming your favorite new tradition, your heart overflowing with so much love and joy to have everyone you cared about together in one place, the best parts of your life overlapping so perfectly. 

On top of your meal being absolutely delicious, your family, the Murphy’s and Chucho nearly had you shooting the better part of your spoonful of mashed potatoes out of your nose, hearing the story of the time a toddler Javi nearly got his head stuck in a Thanksgiving turkey. 

If you weren’t already pregnant, you had most certainly eaten enough food for several people, thankful you had chosen a dress instead of any sort of pants where you’d have to wrestle with the better part of a waistband for the rest of the night. 

Despite their hungry appetites, all of the kids at the table had disappeared post-dinner time, running off the rest of their energy before dessert, leaving the rest of the adults at their seats, still weighed down by their digesting dinner. 

“Damn, that was so good. Props to you on the turkey, Chucho, that bird’s about to put me in a coma.” Your brother David sighed, leaning back in his chair to unbutton his pants. 

“Jesus Christ, you animal, we are in someone else’s home! Button up your goddamn pants!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the chest and nearly knocking him out of his seat. 

“No, he’s onto somethin’. I’m ‘bout to do the same. Shit, I’m stuffed.” Steve agreed, trying to reach down to unbutton his own pants, quickly stopped by Connie with her own slap to the chest for her husband. 

“Don’t encourage him, Steve. He’ll be pantless before you know it, and when he is, that’ll be your problem.” Your other brother, Charlie laughed, making David roll his eyes to the back of his head. 

“Not my fault! I feel 9 months pregnant after eating all this, and after dessert, you can all meet my adorable food baby I’m about to give birth to.” 

David’s comment had you and Javi nearly choking on your food, trying your best to conceal your coughs of shock and surprise at his comparison. It didn’t take much for the entire table to swing their heads towards the both of you, concerned by how you’d suddenly been so off-put, your food had become indigestible. 

“Oh my gosh, are you two okay?” Connie asked, her nurse instincts kicking into high gear at the way you were trying to dislodge the chunk of mashed potatoes from the back of your throat. 

“Yup- uh- yup, yeah, all um, all good.” Javi coughed, letting out one last hack, trying to make as little eye contact as possible, hoping they would assume the redness in his cheeks was from his poorly swallowed food. 

“Yup, we’re uh- all good. Totally fine.” You chimed in, sneaking a desperate look at Javi as if to say “I swear they know and they’re just not telling us”. 

“Jesus, don’t die on us. Didn’t know the birth of my Thanksgiving food baby would be so upsetting to you. Rude.” David teased, giving Charlie a little nudge as the two chuckled to themselves. 

Despite the fact that you and Javi were planning on telling everyone about the addition to your family any minute, the shock and timing of it all seemed to have both of you frozen, eyes peeled to the ground and faces flushed, unsure of what to do. 

The seconds of your silence seemed to drag on like hours, the both of you panicked as your eyes darted back and forth between each other’s, unable to do anything but shrug and let out a half laugh as your bodies grew hotter and hotter. 

“Wait…” Connie hummed, her breaking of the awkward silence filing the room gathering everyone’s attention, watching her silently piece together everything that had just happened in her head. You knew it didn’t take long for her to solve the puzzle, her once confused demeanor now shifting as an ear to ear grin spread between her cheeks in delight, “Are you?” 

“Is she what?” Steve asked, still completely oblivious to the clues Connie had been unraveling. 

After a few more moments of staring at the two of you, one by one, you could see the subtle changes in everyone’s expression, now all looking at you with intense interest, ready to hang on your every word. 

Well, everyone besides your brothers, dad, and Steve. 

“What the hell do all of you know that we’re not getting?” Your dad asked, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Javi, you in on this, bud?” Steve questioned, observant enough to at least recognize the smirk Javi was trying his very best to hide. 

“Steve, seriously?!” Connie sighed, rolling her eyes at Steve’s utter lack of ability to read the room, “David just made a comment about being so full he felt pregnant, and the two of them just about choked on their food.” 

“I dunno?! I mean, they ate a lotta food, too? Why are y’all actin’ like I’m supposed to be a fuckin’ mind reader?” Steve protested, trying to save his own ass from looking like a complete idiot. 

After a few more seconds of more intense thinking than should have been necessary, you watched your brothers start to comprehend enough that they had begun smiling and nodding along with everyone else. 

“No wait, I get it, ‘cause like, if she was pregnant, that like, she’d probably be all thrown off that I said something, right? So I mean-” David paused, a lightbulb finally going off in his brain, sending him into a wildly frazzled state, “Wait. Wait. OH MY GOD!” 

At this point, your shock had disappeared, giggling and grinning at everyone’s realizations, looking over at Javi with the happiest of smiles as he splayed his hand across your stomach. 

“What in the actual fuck am I missin’ out on?!” Steve groaned, still bewildered how everyone else at the table had seemed to figure out whatever mystery was unfolding before him. 

“Jesus Christ Steve, I love ya, man, but this is almost getting physically painful.” Charlie laughed, giving Steve a little nudge. 

“Lord help me.” Connie sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed her husband by the shoulders, “Steven Murphy. If they were shocked about David’s joke about being pregnant, that could probably mean that the two of them are…” 

“WAIT, HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT, ARE YOU TWO HAVIN’ A BABY?” Steve exclaimed, shooting up out of his seat, at long last putting together everyone’s hints after everyone at dinner needed to all but spell it out for him. 

“Took you long enough.” Javi smirked, laughing at his friend as his thumb rubbed gently over the swell of your stomach. 

“We’re having a baby.” You grinned, everyone standing up and cheering in excitement for the both of you, rushing to where you and Javi were sitting to wrap you and Javi up in a smushed blob of a group hug, gently shaking you in their grasp. 

You could feel your heart swell at the overwhelming love and joy that filled the room, tears pooling in your eyes at how much your future baby was already so loved by so many people. 

“Oh honey, we’re so excited!” Your mom squealed, kissing both you and Javi on the cheeks as she wrapped the two of you in a bear hug. 

“Does that mean we’re the aunts now?!” Olivia screeched, pointing at herself, her sisters and the Murphy girls with a giddy grin spread across her cheeks. 

“Guess so, Kiddo.” You beamed, rustling her hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her to squeeze her in your grasp. 

Despite the overwhelming chatter and excitement buzzing around the room, you couldn’t help but notice a soft sniffle of tears somewhere behind you, turning around to see Chucho, eyes watering and a smile beaming from ear to ear. 

“Oh mis hijos (my children). I am so happy for you both. So happy.” Chucho hummed, gently wiping the tears streaming down his cheeks. You and Javi both stood up from your seats, letting Chucho’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight, “I never thought I would live to see the day I would be an abuelo (grandpa). Lucia would- dios mío (oh my god), she would be so thrilled. I know you two will be the best parents. I already love my nieto (grandchild) more than words can say.” 

“Thanks, Pops.” Javi nodded, trying his best to fight back his own tears, looking back and forth between you and Chucho, overwhelmed with the love and joy of a life he’d never thought he’d live 10, 5, hell, even a year ago. There was never a world in which he thought he’d be happy, let alone in love, married and a father. 

“She would be so proud of you, Javier. Your mamá would be so proud of you. And mija, I know she must be up there with your brother, the both of them smiling down on you with the biggest grins. Perhaps they didn’t have a chance to meet in this life, but I know without a doubt they are together, celebrating, and they will be every step of the way. ” 

Chucho’s sweet sentiment had nearly everyone in tears, well, everyone but you, your tears shifting to full blown sobs from the overwhelming emotion and pregnancy hormones of knowing that even though two of the most important people in yours and Javi’s lives were no longer here, that there were still so many who loved your growing family with all of their hearts. 

“Damn, who’s cuttin’ all the onions in here?” Your brother, David, asked, trying to laugh off the obvious tear lines streaming down his face, his joke enough to lighten the spirits of the rest of your friends and family, now all following suit with their soft chuckles and face wiping. 

“Y’all gonna let us have a Thanksgiving where we don’t cry about how happy y’all are?” Steve joked, stepping over to give Javi a little nudge. 

“Well, maybe next year. At least we can promise you the baby won’t steal the show and be born on Thanksgiving.” You chuckled, shaking your head at Steve’s ask, not realizing that everyone had gone back to a suspicious silence, looking around at each other, like they were all in on some secret you weren’t supposed to know about. 

“So…. When’s uh, when’s the baby supposed to be born?” Your dad asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Javi. 

“Oh Greg, seriously?” Your mom asked, slapping your dad across the chest. 

“What?! Like you weren’t thinking about it, too!” 

You looked over at Javi, the both of you confused why everyone suddenly now seemed to be doing silent calculations in their head, counting across their fingers until their conclusion either lead to hope, or disappointment. 

“I’m already out, I know it.” Your brother grumbled in disappointment, consoling with your nieces, also shaking their heads. 

“I gotta good feelin’ about this one.” Steve chuckled, rubbing his palms together in excitement, nudging a very clearly embarrassed Connie. 

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Javi asked, scrunching his brow in confusion at everyone in the room. 

“Oh my god….” You sighed, finally putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together, “Is this about your stupid bet that you made about how quickly we were gonna have a baby?!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that it’s stupid if I win my two hundred dollars…” Chucho admitted sheepishly, almost giggling at the way you and Javi rolled your eyes to the backs of your skulls that every one of your friends and family knew the two of you had about as much self control as two pent up, horny teenagers. 

Next to you, Javi’s head was buried in his hands, cheeks bright pink with embarrassment, glancing over at you with a sincerely apologetic grimace that couldn’t help but make you laugh. 

“Okay fine,” You sighed, everyone’s eyes lighting up as they waited on your every word, “we’ll tell you, but whoever wins this stupid bet better be buying us something incredibly nice for our baby shower. Okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, tell us so can profit off you two goin’ at it like rabbits.” 

“Steven Murphy!” Connie scolded, stiff arming her husband, almost as embarrassed by his comment as you and Javi were by this whole ordeal. 

“Sorry, sorry! Yeesh, god forbid a man give his buddy some shit! C’mon! Spill the beans! As long as the due date is the closest one to May 15th.” 

“July 4th! July 4th! July 4th!” Your nieces and the Murphy girls began to chant, unsure if they really understood the concept of the bet at hand, or if they really just wanted to pick the Fourth of July because they liked it. 

“Unless you’re growing the world's tiniest baby, I’m guessing it’s not April 22nd.” David sighed. 

“Exactly nine months from our wedding? Really David?” You groaned, unamused by your brother’s prediction. 

“What?! Miracles do happen! And it’s best that they happen when I’ve got money on the line!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, the two of you having no choice to laugh about your current predicament. “Fine. You wanna tell them, honey?” 

“Okay. Baby Peña’s due date is….” You paused, playing into the anticipatory silence, “June 7th.” 

“YES! I KNEW IT! PAY UP SUCKERS!” 

With everyone’s teasing and taunting about the state of this bet, Connie Murphy’s voice would have been the last either of you would have guessed to be so excited about having the most educated guess about the day your baby was conceived. 

“What?” Connie asked, giggling at your shock and surprise, “Can’t blame a girl for making an educated guess! And yes, I will buy whatever you want off your baby registry, fair?” 

“Fair.” You and Javi agreed in unison, glad to at least be the bearer of some benefit from your embarrassment. 

What you hadn’t noticed was the pack your brothers, Steve, Chucho and your dad had formed, quietly whispering to one another, nodding their heads in agreement as their eyes darted back between the group and you. 

“What are all of you up to back there? Because if I know anything about the 5 of you, it’s probably nothing good.” You sassed, arms crossed over your chest, tilting your head in disapproval at the sheepish crew. 

“Well… Do y’all know if it’s a boy or a girl?” 

“We lost all of our bettings on the due date, we need to make it back up somehow!” 

“Plus, 50/50 is pretty damn good odds, if you ask me.” 

“You all need help.” Connie sighed, pointing to the boys with a disgusted look on her face, making everyone else laugh. 

“Says the lady who just won a bet we all were in on!” Steve retorted, throwing his hands up in defense. 

“Well at least I wasn’t harassing them about it!” Connie protested, scolding the five with a stern look before turning back to you and Javi, “I mean… they do have a point though, 50/50 is good odds and I’ve already got a winning record.” 

“You all are the worst, I hope you know that.” You sighed, shaking your head at everyone, unaware of the goofy grin spread across Javi’s face as he stood behind you. 

“Oh! Oh! He knows somethin’!” Steve stammered, happily pointing at his friend and his ear to ear smile. 

You couldn’t help but smile too, heat creeping through your cheeks at Javi’s adamant prediction and how happy it made him. 

“I swear he doesn’t,” You promised, despite Javi’s glee, “Javi’s just absolutely convinced it’s a girl.” 

You swore Javi’s smile grew even wider as his hand slid across your stomach, gently cradling it in his grasp as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I’d bet all my money it’s a girl.” Javi grinned, sweet brown eyes locking with yours, twinkling with enthusiasm at the thought of having a daughter. 

“Better save that money then, Peña.” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I hate to admit it, but you’re sure as shit never wrong. And lord knows if you’re endin’ up a girl dad like the rest of us, you’re gonna need to save all the money you can get.” 

Giving your belly the softest squeeze, Javi looked you up and down, in complete adoration and shock that somehow, regardless of money, he had ended up the richest man alive with you by his side, and a baby on the way. 

“It’ll be worth every fuckin’ penny.”

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

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

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

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring @meetmeatyourworst

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[survivingandenduring]

almost killed your light

chapter 6 • series masterlist

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~3.7k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 36), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, nightmares, death of characters important to reader, grief, the angst is once again angsting, suicide (not reader!), canon-typical violence, hunting & a dead deer, it's finally backstory time!!!!

a/n: i can't tell you how thrilled i am to be posting this! it's easily the saddest chapter of the series, and also the first part of the story that i came up with, so this is a pretty big moment for me <3 thank you for all the lovely comments, for being so patient and a biiiig smooch to @sizzlingcloudmentality, thank you for looking this over!

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

“Do you think—” Joel clears his throat, searching your face. “Do you think it might help to talk about them? To help you to keep the memory?” 

You don’t want to talk about them, if you’re being honest. As long as you don’t talk, don’t speak any of it into existence, you might still be able to pretend that the last twenty years were nothing more than a bad dream. That you’ll just need to finally wake up, and you’ll be sixteen again, and the world will be back to normal. 

But you’re still shivering, still feeling the threat of forgetting, of nothingness breathing down your neck. So you nod, slowly, and with the quiet safety of Joel’s slow breaths in your ears and the warmth of his body beside you, you start laying your heart out for him. 

How they called you out of class, something about a family emergency, that they had your father on the phone. His frantic voice in your ear, crackling through the receiver, countless miles away on a work trip, accompanied by your mother. Too far to reach, too far to come and save you. 

Take your brothers and go home. Immediately. No stops along the way, no matter what. Go to the basement and stay there, do you hear me? Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. 

It hadn’t been the first time that he urged you home from school, made you hide from an invisible threat. It was part of your life, just like the never-ending survival lessons and the fully inhabitable basement under your house was part of it. 

But something had felt off this time. Maybe because you knew that he wouldn’t be waiting for you at home, that you were on your own. Maybe you just had a bad feeling. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. 

You weren’t sure what he had said on the phone before you had come on, which excuse he had given, but you got both Felix and Tim out of class without issue and packed them into your car. Of course they wanted to stop along the way, only six and eleven years old, giddy to be out of school early. 

You denied demands to get McDonalds, to go to the arcade, even to spend the day roaming the woods around your house. With your father’s words still echoing through your head, you parked in front of the house, herded them straight down to the basement, and put the radio on. And then you waited. 

It took until the late evening, all three of you getting antsy, itching to get back upstairs. What bad could possibly happen, really? Until the warnings started. Until early morning when they turned into silence. 

Eventually, different voices returned. Talking about quarantine zones, about safety. About an organization called FEDRA. Don’t trust anyone, least of all the government. A principle far too ingrained in your upbringing to betray it now. So you stayed. In the safety of the familiar homey scent of wood-panelled walls and floors, the always slightly stale air, the electric yellow glow that never made up for the lack of actual daylight. 

But you managed to get an insight into what was actually going on. An infection, spreading too fast to contain. Changing people, turning them into monsters. It sounded like one of those movies that your first boyfriend used to like. Too strange to picture, until the first time you caught movement on the security camera footage. A man stumbling out of the woods, his movements all wrong, unnatural. Weird shapes growing out of his body, out of his head. Fungus, the voices on the radio had said. 

Sometimes, when you struggled to fall asleep at night, you wondered where that boyfriend was now. If he was still alive, if any of your friends were. If anyone was. 

As time went on, though you never said it out loud, the hope that your parents had made it, that they were coming back to you, started to grow smaller. You took on the duties of caretaking and leadership as best as you could. 

Made food, to the best of your abilities. Tried to teach them schoolwork, at least a little. Answered questions, sang lullabies, held them when they cried. Just a little while longer, you used to tell both them and yourself. Because things would go back to normal eventually, right? Keep them safe. 

Weeks turned into months, Thanksgiving and Christmas passed you by, and you were still down there. Watching as the world outside turned white with snow, then watching as it melted, as nature slowly crept closer towards the house, as sunshine started to filter through the trees again. The days got longer, and the terror settled into something deeper, more numb, but at the back of your minds like a steady pulse. 

The first time you decided to go out, you were petrified with fear. The world outside the back door seemed endless, far too loud, far too bright, far too open. The birds sounded deafening in your ears, looking up at the sky burned in your eyes. 

Clenching your teeth, the packets of seeds crinkling between your fingers, you took the first hesitant step towards the overgrown patch of earth where your parents used to grow vegetables. 

Your hands were shaking the entire time, your breath coming in short huffs that never quite seemed to reach your lungs. Your eyes kept skimming the treeline, your legs ready to bolt at the smallest of movements. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. The wind felt strange on your skin, the damp earth was clinging to your skin uncomfortably. But you had to do this right, had to provide, had to give them something more than just pure survival. 

Hands grabbed at you as soon as you gave the signal and the heavy door swung open. Held you tight, relief swimming in their eyes, mirroring yours. What did it look like, what did it feel like? Did it smell different? Did you see a monster? You didn’t, but now you had something to count down to, something tangible. A few weeks, and you would have something fresh to eat, something that didn’t come out of a can. Something that tasted like before.

You retrieved your mother’s notebook from the kitchen, tried to replicate the dishes that you remembered. You read bedtime stories, listened to long winded monologues over space travel and dinosaurs, went through the same comics over and over and tried to think of new stories when the existing ones became boring. You brought Tim’s guitar down from his old room and listened to him pluck the strings in the evenings. Sometimes, you sang together. It wasn’t like before, but it wasn’t terrible. A life you had been prepared for, in a weird way. 

For two years, you were the only one who ventured outside. Still with a rigid spine, still with your fingers twitching towards the shotgun you always carried with you, still hyper focused on your surroundings. But for two years, nothing bad happened. Your hands got more used to the movements, handling fruits and vegetables with practised care. You sometimes wondered what your father would say if he saw you now. If he would be proud of you. You didn’t want him to be proud. You wanted him to come back. 

You never saw another monster, not when you were outside and not on the cameras either. Nor did you ever see any humans. The radio stayed silent. 

The next spring, Tim wouldn’t stop begging to come outside with you. He had just turned fourteen, and was not a child anymore, I can take care of myself! At nineteen yourself, you had never wished more to feel like a child again. 

After endless fights, in which he called you overprotective, afraid of your own shadow, overdramatic and, particularly hurtful, not his mother, you finally agreed. You also promised to teach him how to shoot, which your father had just been getting started on when everything changed. 

Once it was time to actually step foot outside, he grabbed your hand tightly, blank fear written in his wide eyes. 

“Hey,” you murmured, squeezing his fingers reassuringly and crouching down to his height. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.” Please let everything be okay. Please don’t let today be the day when something happens. 

He nodded, squared his jaw, took a deep breath and turned back towards the door. He looked so much older in that moment, so much like your father, that your own breath faltered for a second. 

To his credit, Tim stayed close by your side the entire time, just like you had made him promise over and over. Your whole body was on high alert, eyes flitting over the garden that nature kept claiming back more and more each time you came outside, over the darkness of the treeline. 

Once the patch had been taken care of, your spread targets over the long grass, handing Tim the bow and arrows that you had practised with as well. He had wanted a gun, but you couldn’t bear the risk of shots alerting anyone to your existence. 

Tim was good with the weapon, once his nerves had calmed down a little. When the sky slowly turned orange and you ushered him inside again, he beamed up at you. “I can help you now,” he said. “I can protect us.”

Felix, only nine years old at the time, had been whining non stop about being left alone, but you couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him upstairs, out of the safety of the basement. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. 

It took two more years until the three of you left the basement together. You had a terrible feeling about it, the impending dread breathing down your neck as soon as you opened the door. But Felix needed shooting practice too, Tim argued, and you knew he was right. Neither of you said it out loud, but the question of what if lingered in the air around you. What if something happened to you? What if the two of them ended up alone? They had to be prepared for that. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. 

You handled most of the gardening, because you liked the way you could move your hands to do something, to provide something that wouldn’t exist otherwise. But you told them everything you knew, everything your parents taught you. In the evenings, you scribbled everything you could think of into a notebook, filling pages upon pages with knowledge that you hoped you would always be able to give in person, but couldn’t risk the opportunity that it would be lost if you couldn’t. 

It was Tim who first brought up the idea of hunting. In a way, it made sense. You had seen far more wildlife on the camera footage over the years than monsters. Twice, you had even seen groups of humans, but they were mostly male and carrying heavy weapons, and you never felt safe to interact with them. Those sightings had been few and far in between though, while you saw deer almost every week. 

Still, it would mean venturing out further than ever before. Further away from safety than you’d been in five years. But it would add another component to your meals, and better nutrition, you supposed. There were enough supplements stored in the basement to last you your whole lives and then some, but the prospect of providing them with something new, something fresh? It was tempting. 

Gritting your teeth, you eventually agreed. Tim had become a great shooter, much better with the bow than you had ever been. His bashful grin when you told him that made your heart sting. You always tried to be everything they needed, but in moments like these you wished your father had been there to praise him instead of you for once.

You had really wanted to at least leave Felix behind, but he wouldn’t have it, obviously terrified of the two of you not coming back. So, after going through every possible eventuality a thousand times, the three of you put on dark clothes, shouldered your weapons, and set out into the woods. Your heart was racing, all your senses on the highest alert, your fingers wrapped tightly around the shotgun in your grip. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe.

It was a beautiful morning. Spring was slowly merging into summer, the air was still crisp and so different from the air in the basement that it almost felt unreal. Birdsong was floating through the trees as the three of you very slowly made your way through the semi darkness of the forest surrounding your house. Early daylight was filtering through the leaves and mist was rising from the soft mossy floor. 

You were quiet, no words exchanged between you, just like you had made them promise over and over. It felt like barely any time had passed when Tim’s hand shot out, stopping both you and Felix in your tracks. He pointed up ahead, where your squinting eyes made out the lithe, brown silhouette of a deer in the dim light. 

He exchanged a nod with you, then drew an arrow. You watched him take aim, heard the silent woosh, saw it hitting its target. The animal went down with a low thud. For a moment, none of you moved. Tim blinked slowly, like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. A breathless laugh escaped you, until you caught yourself, your eyes darting around nervously. But nothing moved, the forest kept on peacefully existing around you. 

Dragging the deer back to the house was challenging, as was the dressing, but you managed. It had been one of the most-hated lessons that your father gave you, but now, once again, you felt grateful. As long as you didn’t think about why he wasn’t there to do it. 

But that night, when you made a stew out of fresh vegetables and meat, you actually felt a little proud of yourself. If nothing else, at least you were keeping your promise. 

It wasn’t until a few months later that you encountered one of the monsters. It lunged at you out of nowhere, forcing all air from your lungs as you both collided on the forest floor. A scream tore from your throat, your hands grasping desperately to bring the shotgun into position while simultaneously holding the snapping, rotting teeth away from your face. 

“Tim!” you cried out, pressing yourself against the ground, hoping to give him a clear shot. But there wasn’t the familiar whooshing of an arrow flying through the air. Two shots rang out in quick succession and the creature on top of you stilled. 

Gasping for breath, you pushed it off of you, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. Tim was frozen, his hand extended towards the quiver on his back, the bow still at his side. Your eyes found Felix. Sweet, eleven year old Felix, who read comics to fall asleep and asked to sleep in your bed after a nightmare every other week. Felix, with the gun you had given him for emergencies only shaking in his grip. His whole frame was trembling, tears quietly streaming down his face. 

With your own legs unsteady, you got onto your feet, crossing the short distance and pressing him tightly against you. 

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, enveloping him in your arms. “You’re okay, we’re okay. Let’s go home.”

You didn’t want to go hunting again after that. You had managed without it before, and you would manage again. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe.

But, after the initial shock had worn off, your brothers did want to go into the forest again. They practiced shooting even more often, unwilling to accept defeat, to bow down to this threat that effectively was out of your control. Afraid that they would sneak out if you said no, you eventually caved and the three of you made your way into the forest again. 

You were on the verge of panic the entire time, but miraculously, everything stayed calm. No sudden surprises, no attacks, only the quiet trees and you, and the promise of a good dinner that evening.

Life was good, in some ways. Tim turned eighteen and you got up at the crack of dawn to prepare a cake for him. He taught Felix how to play guitar. On some days, you were brave enough to spend whole days in the actual house, only retreating to the basement to sleep. You still ran into monsters sometimes, and while that never got less scary, you built more of a routine with every time it happened. 

Eight years had passed since your father called you and sent you home from school. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. 

It was early October, and you had caught a cold. Nothing you couldn’t just sleep off, just a persistent headache and a sore throat really, but your brothers were determined to help. Determined to get ingredients for soup, something your mom used to make when one of you was sick. 

Your protests that they didn’t have to, that you didn’t want them outside on their own, fell on deaf ears. Eventually, you gave up. They weren’t kids anymore, and you didn’t doubt that they could hold their ground. Just— you had a bad feeling. And you had promised. 

After the door on top of the staircase fell shut, you drifted off into a feverish sleep, haunted by dreams that didn’t make sense. You were shaken awake by Tim, his eyes red from crying, his face more distraught than you had ever seen it. He stumbled over his words, choking on apologies, on explanations that you couldn’t make sense of. Until he led you up to the living room you never used, a room from before. Until you saw Felix sitting on the couch, all gangly limbs and too long hair that you had been planning on cutting. Until you saw his forearm. The twitching. The bite mark, already red and swollen with infection. 

The unthinkable had happened. One moment of surprise, one movement that happened too fast, was all it took. 

You had made a pact about this, years ago. That you wouldn’t let each other turn, wouldn’t let one of you become a monster. 

The three of you sat there for hours, holding each other, watching as the sky turned orange until darkness fell. None of you said much. There wasn’t anything to say. The twitching got worse. 

Finally, his throat hoarse, Felix said, “I— I think it’s time. You should—” His voice faltered, and you nodded quietly, squeezing his hand. 

The shot didn’t sound real. The trigger didn’t feel real under your finger. The red blood, soaking through his t-shirt. His limp body hitting the ground. It wasn’t real, because it couldn’t be. 

Tim and you dug through the night, and as the sun rose on a new day, which didn’t make any sense at all, because how were there any days left to live, you were standing over the fresh earth of a grave. The grave of your little brother who never made it past the age of fourteen.

Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe. Promise me that you’ll keep them safe.

You didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Closed the door to Felix’ room, and promised yourself that you’d never open it again. Time didn’t seem to pass, though according to the clock on the wall, it had to. 

Tim didn’t leave his room for two days. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort him, when all you wanted to do was scream. Why he had to go hunting, why he didn’t protect his little brother. You wanted to scream at yourself, too. Why you were stupid enough to let them go. 

Eventually, you fell asleep right where you were sitting. When you startled awake, the door to Tim’s room was open, but the basement was empty. A folded piece of paper with your name on it waited on the table in front of you. 

You knew before you even opened the letter. One of the guns was missing. Tim never used a gun to shoot anything.

His body was right beside his brother’s grave. Blood had tainted the earth around him. Choking on a sob, you fell to your knees beside him. Pried the gun from his limp fingers. 

When you were done, two graves lined the edge of the garden. You didn’t look back. Your feet carried you down the steps. You washed the blood of your hands, your sight so blurry through your tears that you barely saw what you were doing. Then, you closed Tim’s door, too. 

Twelve years passed, until you walked up those stairs again.

Joel’s arm wraps around you hesitantly, like any sudden movements might scare you off. You sink into him, unaware of how badly you needed to be held like this. 

“I promised,” you whisper into the warmth of his shoulder. “I promised, and now they’re both gone.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” His voice is low. You feel the movement of your hair where his breath fans out on top of your head.

You shrug. On better days, you have been telling yourself that, too. Instead of an answer, you focus on his breathing. Letting it slow yours down, letting it calm your nerves. 

Finally, he very quietly says, “I had a daughter. Sarah.” His breath hitches on her name. You look at him, the question that you can’t ask written in your eyes. “Outbreak day. She was— she was fourteen, too.” 

Your own pain is reflected in his eyes. Clear as day, now that you know. Like it was there the entire time. You nod silently, reaching for his hand. Tightening your hold gently, and he squeezes back. 

Leaning your head against his shoulder again, you close your eyes.

thank you for reading! nothing makes my day the way comments and reblogs do, so please consider leaving one <3

[survivingandenduring]

Learning to Live Part 35

summary: It’s your wedding night, and you’re finally alone with your husband in the privacy of your hotel suite. Not that you care much about privacy when things get hot and heavy on the balcony.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, dirty talk, oral sex (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), rough sex, loud balcony sex, exhibitionism, romantic bathtub sex, BREEDING KINK (so much), praise kink, marriage kink, love kink, ring kink, drinking, being buzzed, love confessions, body worship, body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), cuteness aggression, relationship insecurity, romantic comedy, domestic bliss, Javier with kids, a new POV)

word count: 20k+

a/n: Hey! I hope you remember me. Lmao Let me just say the last six months have been literal hell, and my life is still in shambles. On a positive note, I’m no longer working 60-80 hours a week, and I now have time to write. A couple of notes about this chapter. It takes place in January of 1999. With inflation, $150 in 1999 would be $300 today. A big thanks to @devineconjuring for betaing! Also, thank you to @juletheghoul for checking out my Spanish. Thank you for reading!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The San Agustín de Laredo Historic District, located downtown along the banks of the Rio Grande River, was where the original city of Laredo was established in 1755. The area had many buildings dating back to the 1800s, like the district’s namesake, San Agustín Cathedral—a place you were familiar with as it happened to be the church Chucho and many members of your new family attended and was where he married your mother-in-law some forty-plus years ago.

La Posada was the fanciest hotel in town since it offered room service and had valet parking. It was just down and across the old, narrow brick road from your family’s church. The tall, white bell tower could even be seen looming high in the sky from the hotel’s entrance.

The inn, opened in 1961, had its own rich history as it occupied the original high school building that was constructed back in 1916 and was surrounded by some 19th-century structures—one was a former convent, and another was the Capitol building for the short-lived Republic of the Rio Grande. Most of the buildings in the area showed Spanish and Mexican influences, including the hotel, with its rounded arches at entryways and windows, thick stucco coating the outer walls, and many balconies, courtyards, columns, and elaborately carved doors.

Javi could’ve rented you a regular room at La Posada or even something at the Motel 6 off the highway, and you would’ve been happy as a clam. Your dear, sweet, wonderful husband, however, didn’t think either of those options was good enough for you and somehow managed to book the ever-elusive Presidential Suite; this was the room that a person with any kind of notoriety stayed in when they were passing through the Rio Grande Valley—think B-list celebrities, like Matthew McConaughey, or campaigning politicians.

Most of the hotel was only two stories high, but one stretch had a third level dedicated to a few luxury suites, including where you were staying. Through the double doors of your one-bedroom accommodations was a small entryway that led to the living room featuring a built-in bar—a shelf with a variety of liquors, a countertop with different kinds of glasses, and a cocktail shaker—a sitting area with an entertainment system, and French doors that opened to a private balcony that had views of Mexico across the river. There was a kitchenette, a four-person dining table, and a half bath. Through another set of double doors, the bedroom had a massive two-postered king-size bed, an en suite containing an oversized whirlpool tub, and a shower that could easily fit two people. Every room had beamed ceilings, the wall connected to another suite was made of brick, the color scheme of everything stuck to earthy tones that complemented the exposed beams and wooden furniture, and the art on the walls depicted beautiful river scenery.

No matter how many times you asked, your husband refused to reveal how much two nights in such splendor put him back.

And here you were in the bedroom, you and Javi stripped of your formal attire on the bed that he had the forethought to put a towel down on to keep things from getting too messy. You could not stop yourself from loudly moaning at how good it was; your husband had you in heaven with how he was filling you up, and you were finally at the point of feeling stuffed.

He was beside you, so close your bodies touched. “Yeah?” Javi purred. "You like that? You want more?"

You had to swallow before you could speak, shaking your head as you replied, “God, it’s so good, but I don’t want to get sick.”

“Okay, baby.” He kissed your cheek. “Relax while I clean up.”

Your husband carefully took the paper plate that you had practically licked clean of every crumb of wedding cake and the plastic fork you’d been using. Sitting crisscross on the mattress, you were dressed the same as Javier in nothing but a big, white, fluffy, hotel-provided bathrobe. On the towel in front of you were two more sets of dirtied plates and utensils from the leftovers the two of you ate, which Javi picked up as he got off the bed, heading out of the room to the small kitchen to dispose of them.

Earlier, when your husband revealed the surprise that you’d be staying in this suite for two nights, he told you all of the places in the room he planned to fuck you. From those promises, you imagined that he would toss you onto the bed upon arriving here and have his way with you. What actually happened was you got to the door, and Javi made you laugh when he lifted you over his shoulder like a caveman and carried you across the rented room’s threshold. He did throw you onto the big bed, where the two of you made out for some minutes. It just didn’t go any further because your sweetheart of a husband was aware you were hungry, and that made his biggest priority getting you comfortable and feeding you. So, the first thing he did was strip you out of your dress, the man unable to keep himself from taking a couple of minutes to admire the lacy thong you’d been wearing before he got you naked and had you join him in the shower. Aside from some groping and a little kissing, there was hardly any fooling around since he was so focused on taking care of you, which was sweet.

After that, Javi heated up some of the food from your wedding that the Murphys were kind enough to drop off prior to your arrival since they were staying at the same hotel, and the two of you had a little feast on the bed. Now you were nice and full, but not overly so that you felt sick, just enough that you were relaxed and a little sleepy—a food coma, if you will.

Many pillows were on the bed, and you moved some behind you to prop yourself up and lie back on. You grabbed your almost-empty complimentary bottle of water from the mattress beside you, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink.

“Cielito?” your husband called from the other room. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

The options included the bottle of champagne the hotel gifted you to celebrate your marriage, something from the living room bar, tap water, or the two of you could trek to the floor below to raid the vending machine in nothing but your robes and the slippers that were with them when you got there.

His question made you smile as you re-capped your water, stretching your arm to set the bottle on the bedside table. “No, babe,” you answered loud enough for him to hear. “I’m good—get back in here!”

He returned seconds later, his knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled onto it, smiling. Javi made his way over to you, and when he was at your left side, he wormed his arm behind your back, the other over your front to hold you close, his head nestled on your robe-covered chest. After getting comfortable, he sighed happily, closing his eyes with a little smile on his lips.

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi esposa (my wife)?”

The title made your spine tingle.

“God, I’ll never tire of you calling me that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ll never tire of calling you it, my beautiful wife.” He quickly kissed over your heart, then rested his head on you again. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Oh, right. I know we should be having the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man right now—” Javi snorted. “—but, since we just ate, are you cool with us hanging out for a little bit while the food digests?”

“Are you okay with cuddling, or am I hurting your stomach?” He lifted his arm off your belly.

“Cuddling sounds wonderful.” You lowered his arm back to where it was, resting your palm on his wrist.

“Okay.” He nuzzled you with his face. “Would you, uh, want to play with my hair…?”

“You can bet your cute little ass I do.” That made him chuckle. Your fingers pressed into his hair, playing with the soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp, which earned you a noise from the back of his throat that came close to a purr.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Fucking amazing. How about yours?”

“Fucking amazing, though talk about our bad sex luck—which reminds me, thank god your dad does his laundry on Saturdays. When we return the Mustang, I need you to distract him while I disinfect his laundry room.”

Javi groaned at the reminder of hearing his cousin and your best friend Robyn fucking in said room. “I don't wanna think about that.”

“And you think I do? I just don’t want our father coming across a condom wrapper, or god forbid a used condom, when he goes to do his chores. You know as well as I do that he’d tell his sisters, and it’d be the chisme (gossip) everyone is talking about Sunday at tía María’s.”

Your hand was still on his head, curling strands of his hair absentmindedly around your pointer finger.

“Los chismosos (The gossipers),” he grumbled. “Hold on, why do we care if he finds evidence someone fucked in there?”

“Um, because they’ll all assume it was us, and I do not feel like announcing to our entire family that I exclusively get rawed and creampied.”

“Why would you announce that…?”

“Do you want everyone to think we’re horny newlyweds who fucked in a laundry room because they couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home?”

“We are horny newlyweds who couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home. We almost did fuck in that laundry room.”

“Sure, except if we had, we wouldn’t have left behind any evidence. We’re not sloppy, thank you very much. I mean, I know a lot about Robyn’s sex life—like a lot—but I don’t know how discreet she is. So, we’ll need to make sure nothing was left behind.”

“I say, if they’re gonna be rude and leave shit behind, we just throw them under the bus…”

Your hand stopped moving in his hair.

“You mean the woman who convinced me to let you fuck my ass?” you asked. “The woman who’s held down the fort while you and I fooled around on my lunch countless times? The woman who covered while I got you off in an on-call room at the hospital? The woman who has had our backs so many times I’ve lost count? That’s the woman you wish to throw under a bus?”

There was a pause, and you heard him gulp.

“I’ll tell Pop that I think one of the Mustang’s tires is low on air,” he replied, “so he has to go with me outside while you take care of the crime scene.”

His response had you smiling. “Thank you,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his head.

You resumed playing with his hair.

“No need to thank me. You, uh, had some good points.”

“I know I did.”

“I haven’t had a chance to see your nails.” His hand moved to grab yours that’d been on his wrist, bringing it up to his face to look at your white-tipped fingernails. “Look at those, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s a French manicure, and I thought they’d look really good with my dresses.”

“They’re perfect.” He kissed the back of your hand and continued holding it when his arm relaxed over your stomach again.

For a minute, it was quiet as you both lay there, your fingers slipping through the soft brown waves on his head in comfortable silence.

“Did I tell you what Olivia said before they left?” Javi asked.

“Um, I don’t think so?”

“She confused the fuck out of me—she thinks I play baseball.”

“What?”

“She gave me a pep talk…?” he said it like a question.

“A pep talk? About what?”

“Something about how she knows I secretly play baseball and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed I’m bad at it because I’ll get better the more I practice. To be honest, it was adorable, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t play.”

“That is extremely random. Why would she think you play baseball?”

“I have no fucking clue. I’ve been thinking back on my conversations with her, and I don’t think we’ve ever talked about baseball.”

“Maybe she misremembered something or misunderstood something her parents said? No clue why Steve and Connie would be talking about you and baseball, though.”

“I don’t know, either. They’re both aware I’m a swimmer and played some soccer.”

“True. Who knows where Olivia got the idea.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah…”

“It’s gonna bother the fuck out of you until you figure it out, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“We’ll ask Steve and Connie tomorrow at dinner, Detective Peña.” The Murphys were flying home the following evening, and the plan was to have an early dinner at the hotel restaurant before they left.

“Okay, Mrs. Detective Peña.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “I am Mrs. Detective Peña now!” you replied excitedly.

“Yes, you are.” The smile was evident in his voice. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, I am, and you are my husband.”

“The best fucking thing anyone has called me.”

His response had you smiling.

It sometimes caught you off guard how much Javier loved you since the love you felt for him ran so deep that it consumed every fiber of your being. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could love you the same, not when your heart was more his than yours, yet Javi did. His devotion knew no bounds, and he saw you for everything you were and loved you despite it all—to him, you were perfection. No one would ever love you more, and you would never love anyone else more because he was yours, and you were his; fate, destiny, the writing in the stars led you to each other, and now your lives were so intertwined that his heart was your heart, his hands were your hands, his smile was your smile, he belonged to you as you belonged to him.

Enough time had passed for the food in your stomach to settle, and now you could acknowledge the want burning low in your belly, making your pussy drip with arousal. Something about how happy Javi was that he vowed to spend the rest of his existence with you was such a big turn-on that it was time for things to heat up so you could give him the sloppiest blow job to show your appreciation—except, you wanted it to be spicier than usual.

“My wonderful, perfect husband?”

“Yes, my wonderful, perfect wife?”

“You know what we should do right now?”

“Depends—has your food digested?”

“Yep.”

Javi jostled you as he moved his arm from under your back, rising up on it in order to meet your eyes, his plush lips smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. “In that case, have the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man?” And it became evident you’d been together a while when he wiggled his eyebrows at you as you’d done to him many times before.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“That isn’t a no,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking we could get some fresh air out on the balcony.” It was your turn to wag your brows at him. Javi chuckled, giving you a big smile.

“Champagne?” he asked. “Or should I get out the salt and limes for tequila?”

“The room came with salt and limes…?”

“No—I brought the salt, limes, and our bottle of tequila from the apartment.”

He also brought you both overnight bags and somehow smuggled your toiletries out of his dad’s house–you’d taken them to Chucho’s the prior night when you stayed over, and you were pretty sure it was Connie who did the smuggling. She probably had Steve deliver your little bag with the food before he returned to their room, which Javi assured you was on the other side of the hotel and out of hearing range to your suite.

Your eyes rounded. “Because you knew I’d need liquid courage to fuck around outside?”

He gave you a look like the answer was obvious. “Yeah?”

“That is so unbelievably romantic. Horny, but romantic.” Grabbing a handful of his robe, you pulled him forward as you leaned toward him, slotting your lips with his, kissing him; he smelled like the floral rose petal-scented shampoo he used in the shower, and he tasted sweet from the bites of wedding cake you shared with him.

When you broke apart, you were both smiling.

“You get the goods,” you told him, “and I’ll meet you outside—I gotta pee really quick.”

“Okay,” he replied and pecked you on the nose.

The bathroom was on the other side of the room, which meant you had to go around the bed after you got off of it, Javi following you and smacking your ass. There wasn’t much of a smack with the thick robe in the way, but it still made you giggle. He headed for the bedroom door, and as you continued your journey to the en suite, something shiny on his bedside table caught your attention and made you frown.

“Babe?”

He hadn’t left the room yet, standing at the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Does the gun have to hang out on your table, or can we put it in a drawer or something?” It was Chucho’s small revolver that he kept in the Mustang. Your husband didn’t want to risk it being stolen, so he brought it up to the room.

“Put it in the drawer.”

“Is it safe to touch…?” Unlike Javi, you did not have a lot of experience with firearms aside from treating many gunshot wounds when you worked in a big city emergency room.

“Would I ask you to touch it if it wasn’t safe?”

“No…”

“Exactly. The safety’s on.”

“That’s good,” you replied and moved closer. “I was worried about you shooting your cute little butt off when you shoved it in the back of your pants.” It was bewildering when he got out of the car and casually tucked the gun into the waistband of his slacks.

A huff of air left his nose. “Fifteen years with the DEA, and I never shot myself in the ass.”

Opening the drawer, the only thing in it was a bible. You carefully picked up the revolver by its grip with two fingers like an old, smelly sock and set it atop the book. “Yeah,” you replied, “‘cause you had the sexy tac-vest-thingy with the holster on the front.”

“I didn’t always wear a tac-vest...”

“What?” you replied, shutting the drawer and spinning around to face him. His fluffy, white robe reached down to mid-thigh on him, and it was tied closed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’d wear a holster on your hip?” you asked.

You thought back to the pictures you’d seen of your husband in Colombia, trying to remember if he was wearing a holster in any of them.

His expression turned guilty. “No…”

The realization hit you. “A butt gun, Javier? You’d just walk around with a gun at your ass? That is not safe.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “The safety was on?”

“Okay? But even with the safety on, it’s still dangerous. I had so many people come through my ER because they didn’t properly holster their weapons. One dude had it in the front of his waistband, and when he went to pull it out, it accidentally discharged into his thigh and hit his femoral artery—dead on arrival.” Javi grimaced. “And don’t get me started on all of the butts I had to look at and treat because they carried like you and weren’t as lucky. Do you think I enjoy looking at strangers' butts?”

“I mean…”

“Us checking out bootylicious babes in San Antonio and Miami does not count, Javier. These butts I had to look at for work were mostly men’s butts, and I can tell you right now, they were not anywhere close to how cute yours is, and dear god, were a lot of them hairy—which, I am so thankful you are not a super hairy guy, and I really do appreciate that you trim your pubes.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He shrugged.

Your eyes lowered to his crotch, picturing what the white garment covered, your mouth watering at the thought of blowing him. Javi cleared his throat to get your attention, your eyes snapping up to his that sparkled in adoration.

“What were we talking about?” you asked.

Javi snorted. “You were getting on my ass about how I carry a gun.”

“Oh, yes—stop being dumb and protect what little ass you have.”

Javier was not going to reveal that there was a gun in the back of his waistband most of the time they went horseback riding.

“I’ll start using a holster,” he said. “But, if we’re going out on Pop’s land, you can’t complain if you see me carrying; I know guns make you uncomfortable, but our safety is more important.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders shrugged.

His eyebrows pulled together—he was expecting more resistance. “Really?”

“Yeah? You told me about all of the dangerous animals out there, and I’ll feel safer if you’re packing—that’s packing as in a gun on your person, not the big dick in your pants.” She winked at him, and Javier huffed in amusement.

“Thank you for the clarification. You’re taking this a lot better than I expected…”

She walked up to him with a grin and threw her arms around his neck, Javier immediately pulling her into him. “It’s marriage, baby,” she said. “We gotta compromise sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, his head moving forward to rub the tip of her nose with his. He whispered, “Does that mean you’ll let me teach you how to shoot?” Something she’s always refused.

“I don’t know—will it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine, you can teach me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, because I am an amazing wife who loves my husband dearly.”

He grinned. “You’re a fucking incredible wife whose husband loves you more than anything.”

Javier didn’t give her a chance to respond; his lips crushed into hers, kissing her tenderly, hoping she could feel how happy she made him.

She really was a fucking incredible wife.

When they parted, he gave her another smack on the ass and told her to hurry, his wife giggling as they went their separate ways.

The balcony was covered, with a beamed ceiling overhead and walls on either end to offer some semblance of privacy—the railing was made of wrought iron, the vertical bars twisting like vines into delicate loops and swirls. The only furniture out there was a wooden bistro table situated against the stucco-coated wall with two armless chairs on both sides facing the river. The outdoor light was too bright, and Javier thought it would bring too much attention to them, so he settled on what light filtered out from the living room through the French doors’ windows and the brightness of the moon in the clear sky, illuminating the space in a gentle glow.

He was sitting back in one of the chairs, his legs slightly spread and his arm resting on the table beside him. On the tabletop was the half-drunk bottle of tequila, ziplock bag of cut-up lime wedges, and salt shaker he brought from their apartment, along with a shot glass he grabbed from their rented room’s bar that he washed himself to ensure it was clean.

The night air was cool and a little crisp as he looked out toward the Rio Grande, where, in the distance, he could see the lights of Nuevo Laredo across the way in Mexico. For some unknown reason—maybe being outside or how emotional the day was—Javier was craving a cigarette; even after quitting almost two years ago, he still felt the itch for nicotine here and there, and he’d done pretty well not giving in to the temptation, mainly because there was someone in his life now who distracted him from it. The French doors opened, and immediately, his head was turning in their direction to see his wife coming out.

His beautiful distraction.

He couldn’t keep himself from smiling even if he tried. She looked so comfortable in her robe that matched his, her face lighting up when her eyes landed on him. Her expression took him back to the first time he saw that beaming smile after she handed him the perfect tomato: that was the moment she pulled him in and made him want to know more about the sweet woman who was easily excitable over fresh produce. It was like meeting the sun—bright, warm, happy, and he wanted to bask in her rays and see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Better yet, he wanted to be the reason for that smile, and now he was proud to say he was.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since the last time he saw her, and when she made it over to him, she asked, “Is this seat taken?” She nodded at his knee closest to her, and without waiting for his answer, she sat down on his thigh with her legs between his and her arms around his neck, Javier pulling her closer.

His head was tilted up to look at her, his hand reaching to cradle her face in his palm, staring her in the eyes, smiling.

“I’ve got something else you can sit on,” he said.

“Javier,” she gasped. Her fingers went to his forehead, brushing stray strands of his hair off of it. “I’m gonna need a shot first, maybe two—actually, two for sure, no more than three because, as we know, one shot, two shot, three shot, four-the-love-of-god-stop-crying.”

He chuckled. “Two shots then, pero, quiero que mi esposa me bese primero (but, I want my wife to kiss me first).”

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband).”

Javier couldn’t get enough of her calling him that.

He pulled her down until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. “Dilo otra vez (Say it again),” he rasped.

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband),” she whispered.

“¿Quién soy yo (Who am I)?”

“Mi esposo (My husband).”

“Sí, chingados que soy (Yes, I fucking am),” he growled, pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was anything but chaste with how Javier plunged his tongue between her perfect lips to tangle with hers. His heartbeat sped up, the blood pumping through his heated body and traveling to his hardening cock. He moved his hand from her face down to her bare knee, tracing his fingertips up under her robe over the soft skin of her thigh to her ass to squeeze a handful of it.

There wasn’t the same pent-up need like their kiss in the Mustang when he parked them in the field. This one was instead full of promise for their night ahead, making the anticipation swell that they could now take their time and truly enjoy each other since they already dealt with the sexual frustration of being cockblocked multiple times when they were frantic in the car.

Javier savored the feeling of her mouth on his, how their tongues intertwined, and the sweet taste of her lips. He savored her moans and her fingers combing up through the hair from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, where she clutched it tight in her fists; sparks danced along his spine and collected at the base of it, feeding the fire of his arousal that had him half-hard already and wanting to touch more of his wife’s body.

His wife. His beautiful, smart, sexy, amazing wife.

They kissed until they were breathless, both panting when they separated. He nibbled on her chin, his mouth blazing a path along the underside of her jaw until he was at the taut skin of her neck, nipping and kissing down the column of it.

“Oh, god,” she gasped when he sucked at her pulse point, and it made him smile. She lightly tugged his head back by the hair to make him look at her. “Shots.”

“Yeah?” He squeezed her ass.

“Fuck yes.”

“Okay, baby. Ladies first.”

He got his arm out from behind her back, his other hand leaving her ass as his upper body twisted slightly toward the table to grab the bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap and pouring the liquor into the clear shot glass. Then he opened the bag of limes and picked up the salt shaker, his attention returning to her.

“Where do you want the salt?” Usually, a pinch was licked off the hand between the thumb and forefinger, but he had other ideas for his turn.

She worked open the tie on his robe and pushed it away to reveal his chest, his arm going back behind her again to give her room. “Here,” she said, bending her head to lave at his nipple with her tongue.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, swallowing hard—it looked like she had the same idea.

While she sprinkled the salt on him, he took a lime wedge out of the bag and gently bit the rind, holding it between his teeth.

Cielito set the shaker down to grab the shot glass and raised it. “Fuck the leather, fuck the lace, here’s to the one who sits on your face!”

The only reason he didn’t laugh was because immediately after she spoke, her face dipped down to suck the salt off his nipple—the shock of pleasure had the muscles in his thighs tensing. She quickly drank the tequila, her face pinching at the burn before she bit the lime out of his mouth.

The glass was back on the table, his wife setting the remnants of the fruit she sucked the juice from next to it.

“Woo!” she exclaimed. “One down, one to go.” She untied her robe and opened it, Javier’s eyes lowering to her bare tits.

His hand moved on its own accord, skating his large palm up her stomach to fondle her breast. He could hear her say something but didn’t make out the words. Her smaller hand came into view, and the snapping of her fingers ended his trance—he looked up at her. “Sorry?” he said.

She smiled. “I asked where you want the salt.”

“I think you know where I want the salt.” His tongue swiped along his bottom lip at the thought of getting his mouth on her tits.

“That’s why the robe is open.” She winked. “My guess was boobies or neck, and I see you’ve chosen the boobies, a tit for tit.”

“Don’t you mean a ‘tit for tat’?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A tit for tit works better in this situation.”

“I am so in love with you.”

“Good, ‘cause I am so in love with you.”

He took her breast into his palm and leaned his head forward, sucking her stiff nipple into his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, the fingers on one of her hands going into his hair. Javier came off of her with a wet pop, her skin shining with his saliva. He shook some salt onto her, then poured himself a shot as she got a lime wedge.

“I expect a good toast,” she said. “No, ‘salud.’ Give me something raunchy that you and your guy friends would say in college, or you and Steve in Colombia.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Something raunchy Steve would say? The guy who doesn’t like us kissing in front of his kids?”

“Okay, you know what. The moment I said Steve, I realized the raunchiest thing he’d say before you guys drank would be cheers or bottoms up if he was feeling a bit scandalous. There’s gotta be shit you and your friends in college would say, though.”

He picked up the tiny glass that looked even smaller in his hand compared to hers and took a moment to think about what he could say. He’d never been much into toasting, and in college, they usually drank to getting laid or winning a swim meet. There was something he overheard years ago, down in Colombia, that an American tourist said that stuck with him. He just had to remember the wording…

She had the lime ready for him between her teeth, and he lifted the shot. “Here’s to love, here’s to honor; if you can’t come in her, come on her!”

Cielito was doing her best not to laugh. He sucked the salt off of her breast and shot back the tequila, the mineral lessening the initial burn—it was smooth with a sweetness of flavors, picking up vanilla and caramel and a hint of something oaky that was washed away by the sourness of the lime when he bit into it. The glass went back onto the table, along with used rind.

He looked at his wife. “How was that?” he asked, his hand around her back, squeezing her hip.

“Very good. I loved the play on words.”

“How are you feeling?”

She smiled at him. “Fucking amazing. Ready for round two?”

Javier mirrored her expression. “Where do you want the salt?”

This time, she salted his neck, and when she raised the glass, she said, “To us: may all of our ups and downs be in bed!”

Once again, he didn’t have a chance to chuckle before her tongue was licking up the sensitive skin of his neck, his eyes closing at how good it felt. The alcohol was warm in his belly, and he knew it’d take one more shot before he felt any of its effects—his wife would be feeling it any minute now.

For his turn, he chose her neck as well—a ‘tit for tit.’ He lifted the shot glass, keeping his gaze on hers, another lime wedge in her mouth for him. “To my wife, who I love more than anything. You are my forever and have made me the happiest man in the entire fucking world. This isn’t the best day of my life—it’s only one of them because I know there are many more ahead of us. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

Her eyes were misty, and he went through the steps—lick, drink, suck—she leaned his way, and he closed the distance, his tongue licking up the salty trail on her throat before he drank the tequila, then sucked the lime from between her lips. The moment her mouth was empty, she said, “Javier, how dare you say something so sweet when my toasts were gross.”

He spit the rind out onto the table with the others, the glass going bottom-up beside them. His hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “I meant it all,” he replied, smashing his lips to hers.

His mouth muffled her moan—taking advantage of her parted lips, he licked inside, tasting the lime and sweet hints of tequila, their tongues dancing together as they had countless times before. His free hand gravitated to her tits, roughly palming one, then the other, pinching and rolling each of her pebbled nipples with his fingers.

Javier loved her breathy sounds.

The alcohol’s warmth was spreading through his body, his dick hard and throbbing, barely covered by his robe. His wife gave as good as she got, and she made him groan when she freed his length and wrapped her fingers around him, slowly pumping him up and down.

It was starting to heat up, and there was a list of things he wanted to do, but first, he needed to ensure she was comfortable. He detached his lips from hers, kissing the edge of her mouth, his nose bumping into hers.

“You good?” he asked. “Or another shot?”

“I’m good,” you answered and kissed his plush lips.

The booze had you feeling warm and tamped down your nerves. You were good, you were more than good, your cunt weeping with your need for him.

With the way your husband had been obsessing about eating your pussy all night, you knew that was the first thing he’d want to do, and you were curious to find out what he planned—was he going to sit you in the chair and get on his knees for you? Bend you over the railing and eat you out from the back? Or put you in the position he had you in earlier when you were interrupted, with your back against the wall and him kneeling at your feet? It was honestly a toss-up on what he would choose. Luckily, he didn’t make you wait long.

Javi’s mouth broke away from yours, grabbing your hand that was on him, ordering you, “Up.” You didn’t waste any time, rising to stand in front of him. He grunted as he got up with you, the seat creaking from his movements; he was so close to you that your bodies touched, your palm still in his—he tugged it to make you face him and have you chest to chest.

His eyes were dark with lust when they met yours. “I fucking need you,” he rasped, and suddenly those big mitts of his were framing your face, his lips finding yours. This kiss was fervent, urgent, his need evident as he turned you away from the table and backed you up into the wall beside the chair.

From how passionately he claimed your lips, it seemed his words had a double meaning: he needed you physically at this moment and needed you always in his life. He needed you in every way there was, and wasn’t it the same for you with him? You needed him in every way there was, too. Not only that, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to breathe without him; would your heartbeat cease without him? These were questions you never wanted to learn the answers to.

With your robed back pressed to the stucco wall, it was apparent he wanted to finish what he started earlier, and you were happy to oblige. The glow from the lights in the living room trickling out through the French doors’s windows, along with the moonlight, softly lit the balcony. Thankfully, it wasn’t bright enough for anyone to make out what was going on if they happened to look, and that, added with the tequila, eased any worries you had.

Your robe was untied, Javi shoving it open to reveal your entire naked front, the cool air causing goosebumps to prickle on your warm skin, your nipples to tighten. He kissed you hard one last time and then began his journey down your body. Earlier, when you arrived at the room, your husband was so focused on taking care of you that he didn’t get a chance to take his time to admire your bare figure—something you could tell he wanted to do badly when he was undressing you. Now, he could, the man worshiping you with his lips and hands, kissing and touching every bit of flesh he came into contact with; his palms mapped out your belly and hips, his mouth trailing down your neck to your chest, Javier whispering into your skin as he went, “You’re beautiful… you’re so fucking beautiful… I’m so lucky… fuck, I love you.”

He took your breasts into his hands, his head lowering to suck one of your pebbled buds into his mouth. The pleasure had you gasping and needing to touch him, your palms sliding under his robe to hold onto his waist. His teeth grazed over your stiff peak before he lightly bit it and tugged, making you loudly moan his name; he let it go and moved to the other, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Arousal was coating your inner thighs, the anticipation welling up inside of you—you wanted Javi’s face buried in your pussy as much as he wanted to do it.

Once he gave your tits an ample amount of attention, leaving your nipples and the skin around them glossy with spit, he continued making his way down the front of your body. As he lowered, so did his lips, his kisses all over your stomach imbued with his words of love. “So beautiful… I can’t wait to see you pregnant… you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you… I love you so fucking much… you make me so happy.”

Even after all this time you’ve been together with Javi, it was still hard to accept that he truly found you beautiful. You knew he meant everything he said, but there were parts of your body you hated, parts that you could still recall word-for-word the negative comments your mother made about them, parts that were far from perfect that you couldn’t believe anyone would ever love. Except, there was someone who did love them—Javi. He genuinely loved every part of you, and he loved them all so reverently and with such conviction—like if he loved them enough, you would, too.

Maybe that would happen; maybe he’d help you break through the years of insecurity, and you would learn to love your imperfections—only time would tell. For now, you were finally to a point where you believed your husband when he told you how beautiful you were, and with his excitement over eventually seeing you pregnant, he’d helped calm your fears about the changes your body would go through.

He kneeled in front of you, grabbing handfuls of your ass while he placed a kiss on your mound. He put your leg over his shoulder to open you up, his fingers spreading apart your lower lips where you knew he could see how wet you were for him.

“Finally,” he whispered, and that was all the warning you got before Javi dove in face first, the flat of his tongue licking up your slit. He had you biting your lip and curling your fingers into the soft strands of his hair, making you keen when he started lapping at your perky little clit.

“Oh, god,” you breathed.

No one ate pussy like Javier—it was like he was starving for it, the rumbling groans he made as he dragged his mouth all over your cunt, wanting to taste every bit of your essence while inhaling your musk. His words vibrated against your cunt, “You taste so fucking good.”

“You’re too good at this,” you panted. The back of your head hit the wall, your eyes closing, moans falling unbidden from your lips as the first signs of your orgasm took shape low in your belly. “I’m so lucky,” you continued. “I can’t fucking believe I get this for the rest of my life.”

For only a second, he paused. “Any time you want it,” he roughly replied. “Fucking love this pussy.” He then sucked on his ring and middle fingers to soak them in saliva. You whined his name when he pushed them into your sopping cunt. There was a slight stretch, Javi putting his mouth back to work, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. His come—still inside you from earlier in the Mustang—and your arousal had his thick digits moving easily in and out of you, your hips grinding against his face and hand.

“Just like that,” you said. “Oh, god, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your limbs were beginning to tremble as the pleasure built inside of you, and you cried out as his fingertips rubbed that one spot only he could find—that only seemed to encourage him. He growled into your pussy and doubled down, hitting nirvana every time he pumped his fingers, his mouth focusing on your clit, alternating between sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue along it side to side, over and over again.

“Oh my fucking god, I love you,” you told him in your blissful haze. “I fucking love you, Javier Peña.”

He hummed something that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

The muscles in your stomach started tightening, the liquor in your system keeping you relaxed as you stood there on the balcony with your tits out, getting your pussy eaten by your new husband. It didn’t take much more to have you cresting, euphoria exploding out from your core as you came, gasping Javi’s name. He loudly groaned, saying, with his face in your cunt, “Good girl.” He replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking up your come and what remained of his inside you while you rode out your high.

Your body went lax, and you slumped; your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths panting from your lungs. When Javi got his fill, he carefully removed your leg from his shoulder and rose back up onto his feet with a pained sound from his achy knees. He gently kissed your chin, then one side of your mouth, and the other—his lips were wet, and you could smell yourself on him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his hard cock pressing into your belly. This was when his mouth met yours to properly kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, hugging him in return, the skin on his back warm under your palms.

Between the tequila and orgasm, you felt amazing, and you wanted your husband to feel the same. You ended the kiss, your hands moving to hold his face as you looked at him—his eyes were closed, his mustache and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, a happy little smile on his lips. He looked so unbelievably adorable that you gave in to the impulse and squished his cheeks to the point his shiny lips pursed—it made you grin.

“You are so fucking cute,” you said. “Even when you look like a goldfish, you’re a capital C, Ca-Utie. Ugh, it’s illegal how goddamn adorable you are.”

His eyes opened. “You done?” he asked, sounding a little funny.

“Obsessing about how cute you are? Never. Like, you’re so cute.” A thought caught you off guard that had your eyes widening, the alcohol in your system amplifying the doubts. “You’re too cute,” you whispered. Letting go of his face, you continued, “Why would you want to be with someone like me? Do you like me?” you asked. “As more than a friend? Like, romantically?” You chewed on your lip.

His eyebrows pulled together, and he squinted, clearly confused. “I married you…” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but did you marry me because you love me or because we’re best friends?”

“Am I married to Steve…?”

“No, but he was already married when you met, and polygamy is illegal.”

“Cielito, mi amor, I married you because I love you, and you’re wearing the proof of that on your finger.”

“Friendship rings exist.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t give Steve my mother’s ring because we’re friends. I love you as more than a friend—wait.” His eyes rounded. Quietly, he asked, “Do you love me as just a friend or more than a friend?”

“How can you ask me that? I definitely love you as more than a friend!”

“You asked me first, and it fucked with my head!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to double-check.”

“I needed to double-check, too.”

“Well, I love you so much that I want to have your babies—” You poked him in the chest. “—and I can tell you right now, I don’t want to have Robyn’s babies. I mean, unless it was like a surrogate situation.”

That made him smile, his hands rubbing up and down your covered arms. “I want you to have my babies, too.”

“Then that settles it. We love each other as more than friends, but you’re still my best friend.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

“I won’t tell Steve.”

“I won’t tell Robyn.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly, the two of you smiling when you broke apart.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

An amused breath left him. “It’s a good thing we married each other, then.”

“True. Dumbasses need to stick together. Now,” you gripped the open edges of his robe and turned you both, pressing him back into the wall hard enough that he grunted. “It’s time for me to blow your popsicle, Mr. Peña.” Something you said you wanted to do earlier, but he told you could happen later.

“Mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo, Mrs. Peña (My body is your body, Mrs. Peña). You can do any-fucking-thing you want to me.”

You grinned. “I love when you tell me that.” You leaned in to give him one last lingering kiss.

It was your turn to make him feel good, and you began by kissing down his body, starting at his jaw and moving lower and lower, down his gorgeous neck, his chest, his soft belly, crouching when you made it to the happy trail of hair below his belly button that you followed until you were face to face with his hard cock. It looked even better than you imagined earlier–long, thick, and with that slight curve that felt so fucking good when he was inside you, the tip flushed and shiny with precum. The tile beneath you was unforgiving when you kneeled on it, raising your arms above your head to drag your fingernails down his stomach and through the curls, Javi’s head falling back against the wall with a soft moan.

You spat in the palm of your dominant hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft—it was hot and hard, Javi twitching in your grip as you started languidly pumping him.

Looking up at your husband through your lashes, you said, “Hey, babe?”

His face tilted down at you.

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What do you call a nurse with dirty knees?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“A head nurse.”

He went from chuckling to groaning loudly when the flat of your tongue licked up his length from root to tip, swirling it around the sensitive edges at the head. You reveled in how his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth fell open, loving the salty tang of his precum as you took him into your mouth, continuing to stroke what didn’t fit. His big hands found their home in your hair, moving with your bobbing head as you hollowed your cheeks, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His rough voice came from above, “That’s it, baby—it feels so fucking good.”

That only egged you on. It could be said that you were an expert at blowing your husband. You knew all the things that made him tick and what would really get him going, like when your head rose off of him, gathering a wad of saliva on your tongue that you let drip onto the tip of him.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Spit on it.”

More saliva fell, slicking up the movements of your hand stroking him. You ducked your head, sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His fingers tightened in your hair. “Fuck,” he groaned, and the way he said that word had your cunt clenching. You tongued at the thin skin of his sack, then gently sucked his other ball, your palm on his dick twisting on every upstroke to slide along the underside of the head.

The muscles in his thighs were tensed as you licked up his shaft to take him back into your mouth. His hips just barely rocked as his dick slid further and further along your palate until you were swallowing around him, his cock sliding into the tight space of your throat. Your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed curls at the base of him, smelling the soap he washed with in the shower.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes as saliva dripped down his length, your hands clutching his thighs. You looked up, meeting his dark gaze, seeing the clear love and desire he had for you. “So pretty with my dick down your throat.” His palm caressed your cheek. “That’s my good girl making me feel so fucking good—fuck, I love you.”

This was why you genuinely loved giving Javi head—he was always so vocal, and when he praised you, it made you drip for him. Arousal was hot in your belly. It always turned you on to hear and see the effect you were having on him. You swallowed around his thick cock, causing your throat to squeeze him—his body shivered, and you watched it travel down from his shoulders to his hips.

“Shit,” he moaned.

The glow of the moon and what light reached the balcony from the living room softly illuminated the man above you, and you couldn’t think of a prettier sight than your husband struggling to keep from coming, as he was right then. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “I don’t wanna come like this.” The words came out scratchy like sandpaper. “Can I fuck you? Please, Cielito?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. Immediately, you came off of him, strings of spit and precum keeping you connected. Staring up at him under your eyelashes, you answered hoarsely, “Yes. Fuck me, Papí.”

That had Javi helping you stand. When you were finally up on your feet, his large hands framed your face as he kissed you hard. He didn’t care that your chin was wet with spit or your cheeks had tear marks; he kissed you as if his life depended on it and slowly started walking you backward toward the railing.

He spoke between kisses, his mouth pressed to yours, muffling his words, “Estoy tan feliz de que seas mi esposa (I’m so happy that you are my wife)… Estoy tan feliz de poder pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with you)... Estoy tan feliz de que algún día seas la madre de mis hijos (I’m so happy that one day you will be the mother of my children)... Este es el día más feliz de mi vida (This is the happiest day of my life).”

Suddenly, your husband spun you, his palm smoothing up the cotton covering your back to signal you to bend toward the railing. The top of it reached the middle of your ribs, so you weren’t bent at the waist—you were leaning onto it, crossing your arms atop the metal, and popping out your ass with a widened stance to give him more room. He gripped your hips and pressed his throbbing cock into your backside. Javi leaned into you. “Feel how hard I am? That’s all you, my beautiful wife.”

Arousal swirled in your belly, the beat of your heart pulsing between your legs.

You turned your head, looking at him behind you. “You should feel how wet I am. It’s all you, my handsome husband,” you replied, wiggling your butt.

He smiled and kissed your shoulder blade. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

It seemed he had enough talking. Javi straightened himself and flipped up the bottom of your robe to bare you, the cool air chilling the wetness at the crux of your thighs. He grunted as he crouched down behind you, squeezing handfuls of your ass. His teeth lightly sank into the meat of your inner thigh for only a moment, and it was like dousing gasoline on the flames in your core.

His hands spread open your asscheeks. “So fucking pretty,” he purred. A second later, a rumbling groan came from his throat as he licked up through your slit from your clit to your entrance before spitting on the skin between your two holes—you felt the warm wad of saliva dripping down to your already-soaked opening.

He smacked your ass, the cheek jiggling as he rose back up on his feet. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he whispered. One of his hands held your waist while the other slid his dick through your arousal and his spit to wet himself. He bent at the waist to rasp into your ear, “Don’t wanna draw attention to us—unless you want everyone to know how good your husband fucks you.” He squeezed your hip as he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

Your robe was open, your nipples tingling when a breeze hit your bare skin. The alcohol made you brave as you looked at him over your shoulder again with a smile, your hand going up behind you to touch his smooth cheek.

“I want the entire world to know how good my husband fucks me. Give it to me, Papí.”

A shiver moved down Javier’s spine, his cock jerking in his hand.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

“Scream for me, baby,” he replied, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm.

He started pressing himself into the tight clutch of her pussy, her inner walls hugging his thick length as he fed it inside her inch by inch—her arm fell back onto the railing, and they both moaned, Javier’s eyes closing, his jaw going slack at how good she felt around him, all hot and wet. His hips met the softness of her ass, and he looked down to watch as he slowly pulled out, his dick glistening under what little light there was.

“I love how wet you get for me,” he said. “All nice and soaked for your husband.”

He couldn’t get enough of being called that: her husband.

The quickie in the car scratched the itch; still, Javier had been looking forward all-fucking-day to the moment when he got to take his time and properly fuck his wife. Gripping her waist, he pushed back in, Cielito’s head falling onto the cushion of her arms with a breathy “Yes” that riled him up. She wanted everyone to know how good her husband fucks her, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He started moving in and out of her, keeping most of himself inside for her to feel every ridge and pulsing vein as he reacquainted her cunt with the familiar shape of him.

“It’s so good,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah? I’ve got you, hermosa (beautiful).”

He could make it feel even better—this was a position where she wanted him to be rough, where she wanted him to fuck her until she was cock dumb and her legs shook.

He began increasing the momentum of his hips, slickly sliding halfway out and back into her over and over again until he was railing into her with hard, even strokes that stuttered her loud moans. Javier grunted with each thrust, their skin clapping where it met. With how the balcony had walls on three sides, the sounds echoed off the stucco.

Fuck, he loved being inside her. There was nothing better than feeling the squeeze of her pussy around him. He did love her going down on him a little bit ago, and earlier, when she gave him a hand job after their marriage ceremony, he loved that, too. He also loved the occasions when she’d let him fuck her ass—Javier loved anything she wanted to do with him. But if he had to choose a favorite, it’d be a variation of what they were doing right now.

“You like this?” he mumbled between grunts. “Is it good?”

Several seconds passed with no answer, and there was no hiding his smirk. He slid a palm up the path of her spine to firmly grasp the back of her neck, his other hand going to her front, roughly fondling her breast. He kept up the punishing pace of his hips.

“Am I fucking you good, mi amor?” he tried again a little louder.

Her head lifted, turning her attention to him behind her. Even in such dim conditions, he could see her eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed over. There was a scrunch between her eyebrows, and her mouth was slightly agape—she was absolutely wrecked. She finally answered, repeating, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Pride swelled inside him. “You like how your husband fucks you?”

“Yes! God, yes!” she cried.

Her words had sparks igniting at the base of his spine, making his cock twitch. His fingers plucked at her nipple, rolling the stiff bud. It’d be hard for anyone down below to fully make out what they were doing, but there was no masking the noise—the filthy repetitive slap of skin hitting skin, his rough grunts, and her whining moans that filled the air gave them away.

They were usually much more courteous to their neighbors when it came to their volume. His wife always found it embarrassing when Mrs. Hernandez banged on the wall between their apartments or the people upstairs stomped on the floor to tell them to quiet down. It had to be the tequila—the liquid courage—that had her acting so brazen tonight, and he loved it.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” She started chanting over and over again, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

He followed her orders, continuing to pound into her at the same speed, his fingers tweaking her nipple. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and the small of his back, his gaze locked on hers—she was so gorgeous.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cielito,” he told her. “So fucking beautiful taking it like my good girl.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she loudly whined his name into the night. Her cunt was fluttering around him, her entire body quaking. She laid her head back onto her arms, and that told him she was almost to the finish line.

“Come for me, mi amor,” he said. “Let me have it.”

He’d follow soon after he. His orgasm had been slowly building inside him, feeling the pressure rising deep in his guts with every passing second. He was thankful they fucked in the car because there was no way in hell he would’ve been able to last this long if they hadn’t fooled around beforehand.

Javier loved every second of this, the thrill amplifying his pleasure. The thrill was the reason he enjoyed fucking in places he shouldn’t. He craved the adrenaline, something he experienced regularly in Colombia. But now, instead of possibly dying to feel that rush, he just had to try not to get caught.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached a crescendo. She let out an unintelligible cry, all of the muscles in her body pulling taut, choking his dick hard enough to stutter his rhythm—he sucked in a breath through bared teeth, willing himself not to come while he continued fucking her through her high, drawing it out.

It happened fast. Her legs went wobbly like a newborn calf’s. “Shit,” Javier breathed, quickly getting his arm around her middle and the other across her chest. “Don’t fall, baby,” he grunted, hauling her up against his body to prevent her from doing as much. It was his strength that kept her standing and walked her forward, pinning her by the hips to the railing.

By some miracle, his cock stayed inside her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “My legs feel like jello.”

He carefully pulled the robe off one of her shoulders to lightly kiss the side of her neck, her skin prickling with goosebumps. “Don’t apologize,” was his muffled reply. “Means your husband fucked you good.” His lips made a journey to her ear. “Do you wanna stop?” he whispered. “Or can I keep going?”

She reached up behind her, combing her fingers into his sweat-damp hair. “Mmm, definitely keep going.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah?” He kissed that one sensitive spot behind her ear—she hummed happily. “I wanna look at you,” he said. “Can I turn you?”

“Of course. Just help me, please. I don’t trust my legs.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

He slipped out of her, the back of her robe falling into place. Her legs were still shaking as he helped her face him, pressing her into the railing again. They locked eyes, and both smiled. His hands reached to hold her perfect face while her arms went around his neck, her fingers pushing into the brown waves at the back of his head.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” His thumbs stroked over the apples of her cheeks. “There you are. My beautiful wife.”

Before she could respond, he closed the gap between their lips, hers petal soft and slotting together with his perfectly. He wanted to kiss her slowly. He wanted to savor this moment, take his time, but she made this delicious little noise that broke his resolve, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. It made him greedy. Not only did he want that noise, he wanted her moans and her sighs. He wanted to hear her mouth caress the syllables of his name and cry it out when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

The kiss turned hungry and passionate, both of them ravenous. When that sweet sound met his ears again, it spurred him on. He was still hard and aching to come. Unable to wait any longer, Javier reached down to hook her thigh onto his hip, then guided his length back into her pussy. The moment his cock breached her tight opening, he moaned into her mouth, his head going dizzy at how good it felt.

He started slowly thrusting, his lips breaking away to nip at her chin. “Can I make you come again?” he breathily asked. “Please?”

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and she pulled on it to get his attention. “Is that what you need, baby? You wanna feel me come around your dick? You wanna watch your wife come?”

Javier whimpered—his eyes squeezed shut, and his cock pulsed inside her. He wanted to watch, he wanted to feel and hear her come, taste her tongue on his, and smell the sex on her skin. She already occupied his every thought, and he wanted her to take over his senses, too. Take over his entire world until she was all that existed.

He continued moving his hips, his dick sliding easily with how wet it was between her legs.

Javier looked at her, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Yes,” he answered. “Can I?”

Her palm pressed to his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Yes, Javi.” This time, she was the one who crushed her mouth to his before he could utter another word, her fingers threading into his hair. Her tongue pushed past his lips, and he groaned, the kiss turning messy.

He was still so worked up that it wasn’t going to take a lot to get him off. Javier increased his pace, going harder and faster. There was an audible wetness where they were joined, and he could hear himself working in and out of her used cunt, her arousal dripping down his shaft and balls.

This was what he wanted. To be able to kiss her. To see her and watch her fall apart. He had one hand gripping her leg at his waist, keeping it up, and snaked his other between their bodies, sliding it down her stomach to the apex of her thighs to rub her clit. He swallowed her moan, her fingers tightening in his thick strands of hair. His lips broke away from hers, Javier ducking his head, spreading sloppy kisses along her collarbone, on her shoulder, and up her neck. With her robe open and off her shoulder, it gave him a canvas of bared skin for his mouth to map out.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he murmured against her throat. “Can you do that for me?”

He was doing everything in his power to hold off his own end so she could take him with her. The muscles in his belly were knotted up, his heart pounding in his chest. His cock was throbbing almost uncomfortably with his need to come.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Javier sucked on her earlobe, then returned his attention to her neck and shoulder, kissing and biting the skin. His voice was muffled as he rambled, “I’m gonna make you come, and when I do—fuck—when I do, I’m going with you.” He was circling her clit, giving her the friction she needed. “I'll fill you up, and you’re gonna stay full. I fucking meant it when I said I’m gonna keep you stuffed full of me.” He was panting hot breaths as he kissed her, getting himself worked up with what he was saying. “I can promise you—shit—I can promise you, I am going to get you pregnant. I am going to knock you up.” He swallowed hard, his hips continuing to fuck into her. “You’re gonna have my baby. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

They were pretty sure her actual shot at getting pregnant was the week prior. But since they weren’t 100% positive, they didn’t want to miss their chance, and that possibility made the shit they said while fucking even hotter.

“Please,” she moaned. “Put a baby in me. Please. I want it. Fill me up, Papí.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “You can have it—fuck—you can have any-fucking-thing you want. I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. It was taking most of his focus to keep himself from blowing his load.

“I’m close, Javi!” Cielito whined. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come!”

The excitement caused his rhythm to falter for a split second. “Shit,” Javier hissed. He quickly got back into tempo, his head lifting to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her forehead shining with perspiration, moans spilling from her rounded lips. His fingers kept strumming her clit, and his other hand gently grasped her jaw.

“Look at me,” he panted. “Open your eyes, Cielito. Let me see you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he was met with hooded lust-blown eyes.

“Javi,” she gasped. Her fingers were clenched in his hair. “I’m gonna come, Javi.”

“I know, baby. I know. Come for me. Take me with you.”

She was quivering as his hips swung hard and fast into her. Javier watched as each stroke took her higher and higher, his gaze never leaving hers. After half a dozen more thrusts, she finally told him, “I’m coming.” Her eyes squeezed shut, moaning as she peaked; her body seized up, her pussy clamping down on him.

That was it for Javier.

A strangled noise left his throat as his balls drew up, pushing himself all the way to the root inside her. Pleasure erupted from his core, his dick pulsing, painting her insides with rope after rope of his come. He rolled his hips, fucking his spend as deep as it would go. The primal part of his brain making him ignore how sensitive his cock was in order to fill the depths of her cunt.

When every last drop was wrung out of him, he stopped moving, and his body became boneless. He slumped into his wife, but not before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face back into the crook of her neck. All thoughts had left his brain, the man blissed out, basking in her warmth and the familiar scent of her skin. And then she did his favorite thing and started playing with his sweaty hair. He sighed happily, nuzzling his face closer to her like he was trying to burrow himself under her skin.

This. This was the closest thing to heaven on earth. This was his heaven. She was his heaven.

Javier grew up going to church with his parents, and his interpretation of what he read and heard was that if there were a heaven, it wouldn’t be a physical place. There were no pearly gates or St. Peter waiting to greet you. Instead, it was a state of being where there was complete fulfillment and nothing but absolute happiness. How fucking lucky was he that he found that in life?

He stood there, his body pressed into her softer one, as the beat of their hearts slowed and their breaths evened out. There was a low rumble of cars driving on nearby roads and unseen crickets chirping in the distance.

It took a few minutes before either of them spoke.

“Javi?” she croaked.

He kissed the side of her neck. “Yes, baby?”

“I’m ready to go inside.”

He straightened to his full height to see her face. “Okay, mi amor.” He pecked her on the lips, rubbing his hands up and down her robed arms. “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrow rose. “Can I walk? Mr. I’m-going-to-make-you-come-so-many-times-you’re-gonna-need-a-wheelchair.”

Javier tried not to smile and failed, his hands pausing. “A wheelchair?”

“Yes, a wheelchair. Because my husband loves to fuck me to the point I can’t walk.” She wasn’t wrong, and it made his chest puff up. “Should’ve brought one home from work a long time ago.”

“You don’t need a wheelchair, baby.” He gently squeezed her biceps. “I did it, and I’ll get you where you need to go. Does a bath sound good? Or do you wanna get into bed? We could also watch TV on the couch—order a pay-per-view movie.”

Her lips lifted into a knowing smile. “Pay-per-view movie, huh? Like, porn? Javi, when you stay in hotels by yourself, do you order pay-per-view porn? You can be honest with me. I’m your wife.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, not every time… what about you? You can be honest with me. I’m your husband.”

“A time or two, out of curiosity.”

He smiled. “Out of curiosity, huh?” His voice went a little deeper. “Did you touch yourself while watching…?”

“What do you think?”

Javier grabbed her hips. He leaned in to hover his mouth over hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “I think,” he rasped, “you played with your pretty pussy while watching. Did you get yourself off with your fingers?”

“Vibrator. You know I don’t like playing acoustic pussy unless I have to.”

“You like my fingers.”

“Because you’re sexy and an acoustic pussy maestro.” She brushed his lips with hers. “It’s your turn to choose,” she said. “Bath, bed, or couch, Mr. Peña?”

“Bath sounds nice.”

“Bath sounds wonderful.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Mrs. Peña.” He ended the sentence with a kiss, something slow and tender. They broke apart, smiling. “Let’s go, Cielito.”

The rectangular whirlpool tub was massive enough that your husband could sit across from you with his long legs fully extended while yours rested over his. Javi’s cheeks and chest were painted with a pink flush from the bath’s heat, his broad shoulders dotted with a constellation of freckles. Your bodies were submerged in the hot water, covered from your shoulders down, the bathtub’s jets rumbling as they massaged your backs. It was relaxing, the warmth of the water and the pressure of the spray along your spine easing all of the tension from your body.

To continue the celebration of your nuptials, your husband brought the complimentary bottle of champagne into the bathtub with you. He popped it open and poured you each a glass, the two of you toasting to your marriage and the start of your family before drinking and chatting, laughter quickly filling the room. The bottle was over halfway empty, and you both were buzzed.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said with a grin. His arm was resting on the edge of the tub, holding his flute of bubbly. The man always had to be touching you, his other palm under the water rubbing up and down your calf, but it paused when he spoke.

Your smile got bigger. “I’m not!” you laughed. Your champagne was sitting on the bathtub’s rim, your fingers fiddling with the stem of the glass. “When I graduated nursing school,” you said, “I was trying to figure out what I wanted to specialize in. So, I did a rotation in labor and delivery, and I had this mother in labor who needed a C-section. Like, it’d been hours with zero progress, and the doctor called it. She told the couple, and I quote, ‘This baby has to come out the other way.’ I shit you not, after the doctor left, the father looked at me and asked, ‘They’re gonna pull the baby out of her butt?’”

He huffed amusedly, his head shaking in disbelief. “Jesus.” He took a sip of his drink and set it back down.

“It was so hard not to laugh,” you said. “Surprisingly, not the dumbest or wildest thing anyone has ever said to me at work.”

His expression turned curious. “What’s the wildest thing someone has said to you?”

“Ummm.” Your eyes left his to think about it for a second, your mind running through many memorable interactions until one in particular stuck out. Your attention went back to him. “Probably the guy who may or may not have been a gang member who gave me his number and told me if I ever needed someone taken out—as in murdered—to give him a call. He even said it’d be free of charge, which was weirdly sweet? Not that I’d actually take him up on it,” you clarified, lifting your glass to your lips for a sip.

His eyes rounded. “What…?”

Your champagne returned to its spot on the tub’s edge. “It’s kinda like how people propose to me all of the time because they’re so thankful I brought them food after they fasted for their procedures. When scary-looking dudes who may or may not have gang ties come to the hospital, and you treat them like any other patient—you know, with dignity and respect—they really, really appreciate it. Their way of thanking you is by offering their services or illegal goods.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Illegal goods, like drugs…?”

“Sure, and weapons.” You shrugged. “One guy offered me illegal European cheeses, and I won’t lie, that one was tempting.”

“Do you still have the contacts?”

“No. I never kept their info, and let’s be real, they weren’t using their actual names. Once they left the hospital, they were no longer my patient, and what they did was none of my business. Snitches get stitches and all that jazz.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and his hand began a new circuit along the skin of your leg. “What’s the dumbest thing someone said?” He had another sip.

“Oh, listen to this. A male patient came into the ER complaining about abdominal pain. After the doctor did a quick exam, he ordered an ultrasound. When we told the patient about the ultrasound, he shouted, ‘I’m not pregnant! I’m a man!’”

“You’re fucking with me,” Javi said again, looking just as amused as the first time, his champagne flute hovering over the water.

“I swear I’m not!” you giggled. “He said that! This guy was in his mid-fifties, too. His wife was so embarrassed. The doctor had to pull out a fucking human anatomy diagram to educate the dude.”

“I’d be a shitty nurse. I wouldn’t have the patience for all of the stupidity.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, thinking about Javi as a nurse. “Between your grumpy resting face and the fact you cannot hide what you’re feeling, you’d be so bad. No offense, babe.” You patted his knee underwater.

“None taken. I said it first. It’s nice knowing my wife has the patience of a saint to put up with my bullshit.” He raised his glass your way in toast, then took a drink.

“Stop it. You’re perfect. Now, are you finally gonna tell me how much you spent on this room?”

He smiled, setting his champagne back onto the rim. “No.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “Just enjoy it, baby.” Water droplets trickled as he lifted your leg out of the bath and leaned in, kissing the inside of your ankle.

“But I’m curious as fuck,” you whined.

He returned your leg to the water. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Earlier, you mentioned we sometimes have to compromise, so I’ll tell you how I got the room, but I won’t tell you what it cost me.”

That had you perking up. Maybe you could call the front desk and find out the price yourself.

“The front desk won’t tell you,” he continued, looking a little too pleased with himself. Of course, he knew what you were thinking.

You deflated with a sigh. “Fine,” you said. “How were you able to get the room?”

“The manager is mi prima’s (my cousin’s) brother-in-law.”

You grinned. “You’ve got connections. That’s very sexy of you.”

He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges and shining with love—a look you were all too familiar with and hoped he could see on your face. His hand continued stroking your leg.

He chuckled. “Even with connections, it took some negotiating. It was worth it, though. You’re worth it. I know our wedding was pretty short notice, and since we couldn’t get time off from work for me to whisk you away on a real honeymoon—which I plan on doing sometime this year before we have a baby—this was the next best thing to show you how much I love you and what you mean to me. You deserve the very best, and that’s what I’m always gonna give you, and nothing less.”

His words had you melting, your heart skipping a beat. It was a regular occurrence where Javier said or did something that made you wonder once again what you did to deserve him in your life or to be loved in this way you never knew existed. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“I beg to differ because I am married to arguably the greatest man on earth, who worships me like a goddess, and that’s not even an exaggeration. A freaking goddess! Me! Insane.” It was crazy how much you loved this man, and the alcohol had your feelings threatening to burst from your lips. So, you let them. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel so safe. You make me feel comfortable and so fucking loved. Javi, I’ve never been so loved, and I know it’s sad, and you hate thinking about it, but I’ve never had someone love me unconditionally like you do.” The emotions had tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve never experienced a love like this that I feel deep in my soul, and that’s how I know it’s real. I’m not as poetic as you are, so I’m just going to say what comes to mind. Prepare yourself for some sappy bullshit.”

He was watching you with a fond expression and watery eyes. “I’m ready.”

“Hold my hand.” You reached out to him, and he grasped your fingers, his thumb rubbing over the tops of them. You cleared your throat to compose yourself. “There was an emptiness inside my chest?” You said it in question. “A lifelong longing for something I never knew I needed until you came along. You redefined the void. You gave it meaning. You’ve shown me what it is to be seen, to be cherished, to be truly loved. You’ve shown me a world that, up until you entered mine, was nothing more than a fantasy I’d only ever dreamed about. It was something out of reach, you know? But here you are, a dream come true, who loves me unconditionally, and for that, you have my love, you have my total devotion, you get my every morning and my every night. You get slow dances in the kitchen and four a.m. grilled cheeses—ooh, I like how that kinda rhymes.” Your husband laughed, his lips curved up in a smile. “I’m not half bad at this. Javi, I am going to give you the life you’ve always deserved but never felt worthy of—a wife, kids, dog, house, and hopefully, happiness. I want to make you as happy as you make me. This is my long way of saying I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for loving me.”

“I’m so fucking happy,” he replied. “Come here.” He beckoned you toward him, lightly tugging your hand. Without another thought, you moved, the bath sloshing as you pushed yourself up onto your knees and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Javi wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly to his body, your face nestled into the curve of his neck. His head tilted to touch yours. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so fucking much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how fucking lucky I am to have you. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, and sometimes I catch myself wondering if this is all a dream. You have no idea how many times I’ve almost pinched myself because being with you feels so right and so perfect that I think it all has to be too good to be true, and I’m gonna wake up alone in my bed at the ranch or in fucking Colombia.” You gasped, your heart squeezing at how heartbreaking that was. “Being with you is teaching me that life can be kind and there is hope for the future. You’re my future, and even though there are moments where it feels too surreal and too fucking good, it is real. What we have is real, and I am grateful for you. I will forever be grateful that you chose me, and I will never take for granted a single day that I get to share my life with you.” His head turned to kiss your cheek. “This is my long way of saying I love you, too. Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh, Javi.” You sat up, taking his face into your hands. Sitting in his lap, you were taller than him, and his chin raised to look at you with his red-rimmed eyes. “It is real. It’s so fucking real. I love you.”

That was an understatement of how you felt about him. Not when it felt as if his heart was beating in your chest, and looking into his eyes was like coming home—the familiarity, the comfort, the safety. Almost as if you’d always known that those irises, with their unique mix of chocolatey-colored hues, would belong to the one who was meant for you. A recognition, a certainty when your gazes met that he was your person, your other half.

Emotions had you smashing your mouth against his, kissing him hard. You poured your love into each press of your lips to his, letting him taste the devotion on your tongue. His arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you flush to him. It didn’t matter that you’d already come a handful of times tonight. The things he said had you wanting, no, needing him again, the desire searing through your veins and pooling in your belly.

An interesting side effect of being in love with Javi and knowing he loved you, too, was how it made you so fucking horny. Confessing your love to one another was basically foreplay, and wasn’t that adorable? A couple of love-sick fools getting turned on from loving each other. Robyn would absolutely fake-gag if you told her about you and your husband’s love kink.

He sounded breathless when he came up for air. “I love you.” He messily kissed your chin and the shape of your jaw. “I fucking love you,” he murmured into your skin.

“I love you, too.” His face was still framed in your hands, and you pushed him back to gain access to the line of his neck, your head dipping to swipe your tongue up his salty skin.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his throat bobbing. You rocked your hips, rubbing his already half-hard cock with your cunt, his hands grabbing ahold of your ass, the soft flesh firmly filling his palms as he helped you move. You sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark, Javi groaning, “Fuck, I love you.” The words vibrated under your mouth, making your lips curl in delight.

“I love you, too, Javi.” Your mouth traveled up to take his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling on it before your lips were at his ear. “I really fucking love you.”

“I’m yours.” His fingers dug into your asscheeks, moving you. “You fucking own me. I’m yours forever.”

“And I’ll always be yours, Javi. Always. For-fucking-ever.”

His large hand came up, lightly grasping your jaw to maneuver your face in front of his, Javier’s lips colliding with yours. This kiss was much more frantic, the headiness of passion overtaking you both, matching each other's energy, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath. He was completely hard as you rolled your hips along his shaft, the bath’s water lapping at the sides of the tub. Your arms went around his neck, threading your fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

You loved this man so much that he was your entire world, everything that mattered, and the wild thing was, he felt the same way about you—you were his entire world and everything that mattered to him. It was an intoxicating feeling to love and to be loved.

The sweet heat of want burned at the base of your spine, the tension rising with each desperate kiss until it hit a breaking point. In sync, your mouths separated, you lifted your hips high enough for Javi to position his cock at your entrance, and then you sank onto it.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasped when he was fully seated inside of you.

There was nothing better than the familiar fullness or how he stretched you open.

Your gazes were locked.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said. “Use me, Cielito. Make yourself come. I wanna feel you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. Javi leaned up to capture your lips once more, his hands gripping handfuls of your ass. Your palms slid up his flushed chest to grab his shoulders, and you did what he said: you started moving. You ground your hips, keeping most of him inside you while rubbing your clit on the coarse hairs at the base of his dick. Sparks danced in your core, your pulse pounding. Your husband helped you grind in his lap.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said between kisses. “Te amo muchísimo, mi amor (I love you so much, my love). Eres mi todo (You are my everything). Toma lo que es tuyo (Take what is yours).”

“I love you, too, Javi.” Pleasure built, and the coil in your tummy started to tighten. “I fucking love you. I’ll always love you.” Your hips circled in the most delicious rotations.

His tongue delved between your lips, plundering your mouth, moans coming from the back of your throat. With how close you were physically—your bodies pressed together like pieces of a puzzle—and emotionally—your love and devotion for each other—this was the closest you’d ever been with another person, and it felt much more intimate than sex. It was something deeper. Something on a different level where you were caught up in one another, lost in your own little world and the overwhelming feeling of love. Maybe it was the oxytocin, the love hormone, flooding your system that had you thinking this must be what it felt like when your souls came together, the two halves melding to become one.

The water splashed against your back and ribs, the bath’s jets continued to rumble. You didn’t stop the rocking of your hips or sloppily kissing your husband. He felt so good inside you, the pressure on your clit pushing you higher and higher.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life).” It was muffled into your lips. “Eres todo para mí (You are everything to me). Quiero que me uses como tú quieras (I want you to use me however you want).” He switched to English. “I wanna feel my wife come. You gonna get yourself off?“

“Yes.”

“My good girl. I love you. Take what you need, mi amor. Don’t stop. You come, I come. I’m following you. You’re taking me with you.”

Your orgasm was close, the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“I will, Javi. I will. I fucking love you.”

This man you married knew exactly what would have you careening toward your climax. He took your breasts into his hands, ducking his head to suck on your hardened nipple, his fingers teasing the other one. It felt like every nerve ending in your body lit up, your eyes closed, the shock of it making you cry out.

“I love you,” you repeated. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Each time you rolled your hips, it created the best friction against your clit, and that, combined with the attention he was giving your tits, had you tumbling over the edge, coming with a gasp of his name. This orgasm was softer than the others. When your body tensed and your cunt squeezed him, Javi hissed. He grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he used his strength to keep moving you in his lap. He kept those gentle waves of pleasure flowing through you, letting you ride out your high while your husband chased his own.

“I’m yours, Javi,” you told him. When you opened your eyes, you saw his were shut tight, and his teeth were bared. It was that sexy look he got when he was close to coming; he just needed a push to get there. You touched your forehead to his, your fingers clutched in his hair. “I’m yours, baby. I want you to come. I want my husband to come. I want you to fill me up and fuck it so deep inside me you knock me up.” He whined, and that just encouraged you. “Get me pregnant, Javi. Let me have it. Let me feel it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I love you. I’m gonna—Christ—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I’m gonna fuck you full of my come. Fuck it—shit—fuck it so deep in your pussy it takes. Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo más que a nada (I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything).” The groan he let out was guttural. He hugged you to him, holding you still, his face pressing against your throat as he came. His teeth sunk into your neck, the pleasurable pain causing you to moan. His cock jerked inside you with each spurt of his spend gushing into your inner depths, and when it stopped, his heavy breaths were hot on your skin.

The only sound in the bathroom was the tub's jets. The water had turned lukewarm. The large mirror on the opposite wall over the two sinks was still fogged up. It was peaceful and calm. Time stood still in this little bubble where you luxuriated in one another and those happy chemicals flowing through your bodies. All of your muscles relaxed, making you melt into your husband. Javi nuzzled his face into your neck, and your fingernails lovingly scratched at his scalp, earning you a happy hum.

You loved these moments. You loved how comfortable it was to hold each other, your bodies and souls bare. You didn’t feel self-conscious or a need to cover up. You just wanted to share in the afterglow with the man you loved.

Javier told you once that his favorite part of having sex was this: the post-sex glow when you cuddled close and came down with the other person. He loved the intimacy of it. He craved it. He also revealed that down in Colombia, he’d pay the sex workers he slept with extra to stay with him longer instead of leaving immediately after he came so he could have some semblance of that intimacy. It was a little sad if you thought about it too hard; if you thought about how lonely and touch-starved he was, that was made exponentially worse because his love language was physical touch. You’d never let him feel that loneliness again. You were happy to spend those minutes with him after you both finished, cradled in his arms. You were happy to give him that intimacy he craved. You were happy to do whatever it took to make him feel as loved as he made you.

Seconds turned into minutes. Finally, Javi broke the stillness with a kiss to the skin his face was pressed against.

“Javi?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

He was smiling when his head lifted to look you in the eyes, and you matched his expression.

“I love you, too.”

“I have a serious question.”

His smile fell. “Yeah?”

“Are you a sea lion?”

As expected, his face pinched in confusion.

“What…?”

“Are you a sea lion?” you repeated.

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean, you must be a sea lion ‘cause I can sea-you-lion in my bed tonight.” To really sell it, you wagged your eyebrows.

He tried to hold in the laugh, his cheeks flushing red, but he couldn’t keep it in. He sputtered into full-on laughter, his eyes practically disappearing with how they crinkled in glee. It had you cracking up, too, joining him in the merriment. His head fell against your shoulder as you both laughed at your stupid pick-up line.

It took you back to your wedding ceremony, when you both vowed your marriage would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter. Which was another thing you loved about your husband: he made you feel comfortable enough to be your true goofy self. Something you didn’t feel in your past relationships. But Javi–even with him being a somewhat serious, no-nonsense guy—he appreciated your humor and laughed at your dumb jokes. He never made you feel stupid or embarrassed, and it was truly a breath of fresh air that you could simply be you.

Eventually, you both calmed down. Your husband kissed your cheek and then sat up, rubbing his palms up and down your ribs. He looked at you with soft eyes and a sweet smile.

“I am so fucking in love with you,” he said.

You grinned. “And I am so fucking in love with you,” you replied, poking the tip of his nose. He snatched your hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss your wedding ring.

“I love you naked like this,” he rasped. His burning gaze traveled from your face to your breasts, drinking in the sight of you before his eyes returned to yours. “But you know what would look really good on you?”

“Lingerie? That red thong you love?”

“Me.”

“Oh,” you gasped, your eyes widening. “That just made my pussy flutter.”

“I know.” Because he was still inside you.

You gulped. “Can I, uh, see your left hand real quick?” It came out of the water, dripping. He held it straight up for you to see the back of it. You stared at his fingers, seeing the gold band on his ring finger, and nodded. “Yep, that is a wedding ring. Jesus, you really did marry me. Me. That’s fucking crazy.”

“Stop that.”

Your attention went back to him to see he was frowning. “Stop what?”

He sighed and took both of your hands into his. “Thinking I’m out of your league. I hate it. Cielito, you’re fucking beautiful. Say it. Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

“You’re beautiful.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “You know what I meant. Say it.”

The thought of repeating it made you wince, but you did it anyway. You mumbled, “I’mbeautiful.”

“Say it louder.”

“I hate this,” you whined.

“And we’re working on fixing that. So, say it again.”

You took a deep breath. This was so fucking hard. “I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “You are. Repeat it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Again.”

“How many times are we doing this?”

“As many as it takes for you to believe it. Again.”

You sighed. “I’m beautiful.”

“What are you?”

“I’m beautiful.”

He made you say it five more times, and it got easier each time you said it.

“One more,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Good girl.” He closed the gap to kiss you, his big hands coming up to caress your face. When his lips left yours, he nudged your nose with his. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, sexy, talented, and an amazing partner. You’re perfect. I need you to remember that. You’re perfect,” he said again, “and I am lucky to have you as my wife.”

“Thank you, Javi. You know I struggle when it comes to that stuff.”

“Yeah, I do know. We’ll keep working on it.” He kissed your forehead.

“I’m lucky to have such a supportive husband who calls me out on my bullshit.”

He huffed. “You do the same for me. I love you, mi amor.”

“I love you, too.” You pecked him on the lips, then pulled back when you started to yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You ready for bed?” he asked.

The question made you realize you were exhausted. “God, yeah.”

“Let’s go, baby.”

Thirty minutes later found you dry, your teeth brushed, and naked under the covers, with Javi spooning you from behind. The curtains were closed, the bedroom dark save for the alarm clock on the bedside table, whose glowing red numbers told you it was almost two a.m. Your husband’s arm was around your front, your hand over his on your breast, your rings touching. His nose was buried in the hair at the back of your head.

It was cozy and warm, feeling so happy and loved. Sleep was coming for you, and your eyelids were getting heavy, your thoughts slowing. In your sleepy haze, you remembered something.

“Javi?” you whispered.

“Yes, Cielito?” he answered just as quietly.

“I just realized Valentine’s Day is next month. I don’t know if you have anything planned yet, but you know what I’d love to do?”

“What?”

“You.”

He chuckled, hugging you a little tighter and kissing your hair. “That’s what we’ll do then. Any other requests?”

You smiled, wiggling back to get closer to him. “Nope. Do you have any requests?”

He was going to ask for the red thong.

“You said something about the red thong in the bath.”

There it was. You giggled. “You got it, babe.” You patted his hand, your rings clinking together. “Sweetest dreams, my wonderful, perfect husband.”

“They’ll be about you, my wonderful, perfect wife. I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve lifted his wrist to check the time, the hands on the watch face showing 3:16 p.m.

He frowned. He could’ve sworn he told Javier earlier when they talked on the phone to meet in the hotel restaurant at three p.m. Not 3:30, three on the dot, because he had to get Connie and the kids to Laredo’s tiny airport by six p.m. for their flight to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where they’d get on a bigger plane to take them home to Miami.

Where the hell were the newlyweds?

He was sitting at the head of the long eight-person dining room table at the hotel’s restaurant, Zaragoza Grill, with a clear view of the entrance. Instead of a chair to his right, there was a wooden highchair with his one-year-old, Nate, sitting in it, chewing on a small slice of bread from the bread basket. Connie was next to their youngest in the middle seat, talking to Stevie, their three-year-old, on her other side while he used crayons to color the paper kids’ menu the hostess had given him. Olivia was at the other end of the table, opposite Steve, coloring her own menu.

His arm lowered as he looked at his wife. “Con?” he said.

Her head turned his way. “Yes?”

“I told Javi three, right? Not, 3:30?”

“Yes, you told him three.”

“Why aren’t they here yet?”

“Honey, they got married yesterday. You remember what it was like the days after our wedding. All of the laundry we folded.” She smiled.

‘Folding laundry’ was their codeword for sex, and he absolutely remembered the days following their wedding. They went at it like fucking rabbits and didn’t leave their hotel room in Cabo San Lucas for days.

He smirked. “How could I forget our honeymoon, baby? We had a good time. A really good time. You know, we should go back to Mexico. Maybe we could get your sister to watch the kids while we go on a little vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Steve. We’re not gonna be able to go on vacation alone until Nate graduates high school, and that’s a good seventeen years away.”

He sighed. She was right. They couldn’t pawn their children off on someone to fuck off to Mexico for a week. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

“I always am.”

That was the end of their conversation, Connie’s attention returning to Stevie.

Behind him was a table for two against the brick wall. The young women sitting at it had walked by them when they were seated, and he estimated they were in their twenties. He couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation when one of the girls asked, “Can you believe all that noise last night?”

“Oh my god, I know, right? Like from what it sounded like, either the woman in the room above us was getting it real good, or the rumors are true, and this place is actually haunted. But I just don’t think spirits of nuns would make those noises, you know what I mean?”

“Girl, the moaning? The screaming? The sound of that pounding? Whoever was staying upstairs is one lucky bitch. Her man knows what he’s doing, and I don’t blame her for not being able to stay quiet. I also think they probably figured that since they were on the third floor, no one would hear them going at it.”

Steve inhaled deeply, shaking his head. He knew who was staying on the third floor—he’d even been inside the massive suite. Javier had handed over $150 per night, a pair of expensive courtside tickets to a San Antonio Spurs vs. three-time defending NBA champions Chicago Bulls game, and all of his wife’s tamales from his and his father’s freezers for it. The hotel apparently didn’t rent out the Presidential Suite to just anyone to keep its allure of being something exclusive for the rich and famous who passed through the area. Javier’s local fame, unfortunately, wasn’t enough.

That didn’t stop him, though.

His pal could be a real stubborn son of a bitch.

Javier got intel that the manager was a huge fan of his mom’s tamales and the San Antonio Spurs. He lucked out that his wife’s tamales were the closest to his late mother’s, so he bribed the manager with fifty-something tamales and the highly sought-after tickets to the Spurs vs. Bulls game to book the place at full price.

There was no way in hell Steve would ever pay $150 per night for a hotel room. That was a month and a half’s worth of mortgage payments on his four-bedroom, four-bath home in Florida, for Christ’s sake. The only reason Steve rented a two-room, double-queen suite here in Texas was because Javi and his wife paid for it. They wanted his family to have roomy accommodations since they had their three kids, which was greatly appreciated, and their room only cost a reasonable fifty dollars a night.

Movement at the restaurant’s entrance caught his attention, and he watched as the new Mr. and Mrs. Javier Peña made their way inside. Steve snorted at seeing the newlyweds in matching outfits of jeans and lavender-colored shirts, Javi’s a button-up, and his wife in a V-neck. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, they were practically fused together, with her tucked under his arm and pressed against his side, their heads close together, smiling and talking as they walked his way.

Steve had been friends with Javier for close to twenty years, and in all that time, he had never seen his best friend happier than he was with his bride. He wasn’t the same man Steve knew in Colombia. He wasn’t even the same man who lived with his family after he took down the Cali Cartel and quit his job. He changed, and he changed for the better.

To be honest, at first, Steve worried about his friend leaving the DEA and returning to civilian life. Javi had all of the signs of being what they call a lifer—someone who spends, if not all, then a significant portion of their career with the same agency. He’d been married to his job and fully committed to seeing it through no matter what it cost him. He didn’t visit his parents for years, and when his mother tragically passed away, he’d only gone home for a few days. Instead of grieving her death, he threw himself into his work. It sure as hell wasn’t healthy, but it was what he had to do to keep going.

Steve was so fucking thankful his friend got out and was getting a second chance. After all of the bullshit he went through, Javier deserved to be happy, and there was no doubt that this girl he married made him happy. She was the best thing to happen to him, and even though they needed to cool it with the PDA in front of his kids, Steve could admit they were really good for each other. He would never say it out loud, but he thought it was cute that a grumpy fucker like Javi ended up someone so bright and cheery.

He rechecked his watch to see it was 3:20 p.m.

The couple approached the table.

“Hey, guys,” the dark-haired man greeted as he pulled out the chair across from Connie for his wife to sit in. “Sorry, we’re late.” He got her settled, kissing the top of her head before taking the seat to Steve’s left.

“Tío (Uncle)!” Stevie shouted and hopped off his chair to run around the table to Javier.

His friend smiled. “Hey, mi principito (my little prince),” he grunted as he lifted the child into his lap.

When Javier was around, Steve and Connie no longer existed to their two eldest kids. Did that bother them? No. It gave them a break, and they weren’t going to be mad about that. They never expected Javi to take on the role of an uncle to their children. They never expected him to be as great as he was with their kids, either. He took his title of tío (uncle) seriously and loved the little Murphys as if they were his flesh and blood. It honestly caught Steve off guard the first time he saw how gentle and sweet Javi was with Olivia.

Steve could admit that at first, he didn’t like that his friend was so good and helpful with his daughter because it made him look bad. Steve grew up believing that, aside from the occasional diaper change, everything involving the children was his wife’s job. Looking back, he could see how that was a shitty way of thinking, and he felt ashamed for putting Connie through all of that. Seeing everything Javi did and how it helped his wife ended up being the swift kick in the ass he needed to step up and be a better father and husband.

“We lost track of time,” the bride said. “Empire Strikes Back was on the TV.”

That title sounded familiar.

“Is that one of those,” Steve started. “What’s it called? Star Trek movies?”

“Star Wars,” Javi corrected. Stevie got off his lap to run back to his original chair to grab his menu.

Nate had lost interest in the bread, so Connie put it on the table in front of the baby. Steve leaned down to his right to get into the diaper bag on the floor, grabbing a bottle of watered-down apple juice that he handed to the one-year-old as he sat back up.

“The ones with those, uh, laser swords?” Steve asked.

Javi sighed. “Lightsabers.”

“Never pegged you as a sci-fi guy.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Peña interjected. She looked past her husband at him. “Javi’s a space nerd.”

Steve smiled. “Is he, now?”

His son returned, holding the paper up to his tío (uncle). “Look!” He had crayons clutched in his other hand.

Javi’s attention went to the toddler. “Were you coloring, bud?” The man put the child in his lap again, and the page with a rainbow of scribbles on the table in front of them. “It looks good, buddy. What are you getting to eat?” He had an arm over the back of his wife’s chair, his other hand pointing at the list of three options, reading what each one was. Mrs. Peña watched the interaction with a fond expression.

Steve looked at Connie. “Honey?”

She met his eyes. “Yes, baby?”

“Five bucks says our kids will have a new cousin by the end of the year.”

She smiled. “I’d be stupid to take that bet.”

“She’s right,” Javi added before going back to talking to Stevie.

“Y’all are no fun.” Steve pouted.

The server interrupted to take their drink orders. After she left, Olivia called from across the table. “Tío (Uncle)?”

Javi turned to see her concerned face. “¿Sí, mi tesorito (Yes, my little treasure)?”

She asked him something in Spanish while pointing at his head, and whatever the question was made the other man’s cheeks flush and his new wife’s eyes widen. Connie looked where their daughter indicated and tried but failed to stifle a giggle.

“What did she ask?” Steve asked. His eyes traveled to each adult, hoping for an explanation.

Javier’s expression could be described as ‘panicked’ when he met Connie’s eyes. She didn’t even let him say anything. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what happened, so you have to take this one.”

“What did she ask?” he tried again.

Connie caught his gaze and put her hand up to hide her mouth from Olivia while she mouthed at him, ‘Hickey,’ and pointed at the side of her neck. Great. Steve pressed his fingers to his forehead and sighed. They better come up with a believable excuse. His daughter did not need to be finding out what hickies were.

Javi finally answered Olivia in Spanish, and the young girl asked him another question Steve didn’t catch.

He hated it when they did this. He could make out some words, but his daughter and her tío (uncle) sometimes spoke too quickly for him to understand. They also liked to make it obvious when they were talking shit about him because they found it funny and enjoyed annoying the hell out of him.

Javier smiled and shook his head as he replied.

“What are they talking about?” Steve asked.

His friend’s missus threw him a bone. “Olivia asked about the bruise on Javi’s neck, and he told her what happened; he hit it on something last night, and he’s embarrassed about it.” That was a decent excuse. “She also wondered if it hurt, and he reassured her that it didn’t. Is that right, guys?” She addressed the uncle and niece.

His daughter said, “Yep!”

Javi turned his way and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced over to Olivia and then back to Steve as he said something in Spanish that his daughter laughed at.

This was shit that made his jaw clench. “Hey, you guys know it’s against the rules to talk about me in Spanish.”

“Who said we were talking about you?” Javi replied. His attention returned to Olivia, the two of them, plus his wife, chatting in the language Steve barely understood.

“Leave them alone, Steve,” Connie said, and his eyes went to her. “It’s good practice for Olivia.”

“It’s rude,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The server returned with their drinks, and the newlyweds had a chance to look over their menus, so the table ordered their food. Minutes passed. While Stevie was occupied with coloring, and the women were talking to his daughter about some show or movie he’d never heard of, Javier leaned his way and whispered for only him to hear, “Why does Olivia think I play baseball?”

The blonde man’s eyebrows knit together as he thought over the question. Why would Olivia think that Javi played baseball? It hit him: the conversation Connie and he had the day before on their way to the party after the ceremony. They used baseball terms to discuss whether the newlyweds would figure out how to fool around on the drive back to the reception.

He leaned toward his friend to reply just as quietly, “She wasn’t supposed to mention it to you.”

“Mention what?”

“It was nothing.”

“It was obviously something because your daughter is under the impression that I am a shitty baseball player.”

Steve had to hold in his laugh, air quickly leaving his nose. He needed to give his friend some kind of answer.

“You know how Connie and I use ‘folding laundry’ as a codeword?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Well, we were talking more in-depth about the topic, but we used baseball terminology, so if the children overheard, they wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about.”

“And it was about me…?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you discussing my sex life…?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I was being an ass and bet Connie that you horndogs wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants on the drive to the party.”

“She would’ve lost. I hope she didn’t take it.”

“Of course, she didn’t, and I sure as hell didn’t take her bet that you guys would be able to wait until you got back to the hotel to score the first run on opening day.”

“Consummate our marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a losing bet, too.”

“How the hell did you manage that with your wife driving?” he harshly whispered. She drove the two of them from the ceremony to Chucho’s house. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

“It was later on our way to the hotel,” he told him anyway. “We stopped in a field.”

“Are you guys trying to get arrested?”

“It was in the middle of nowhere. We were fine.”

Whatever happened to saving those kinds of activities for the bedroom?

“Uh huh, right.”

“Hold on a second, if Olivia overheard your baseball shit and assumed I played, where’d she get the idea that I’m bad at it? Did you fucking tell her that?”

Again, Steve had to keep himself from laughing, but this time, when he whispered, his voice was a little squeaky. “Maybe…”

His friend sat back to glare at him and forgot to keep his voice low. “You asshole.”

“You ass’ole!” the three-year-old in Javi’s lap parroted. “You ass’ole!”

The other man’s eyes rounded. “Oh, Shit. I mean, shoot.”

Steve groaned. “Goddammit, Javier,” he hissed.

“OH, SHI’!” Stevie yelled at the top of his lungs. He turned his head to look at Steve, pointing at him. “Daddy, you ass’ole!”

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[survivingandenduring]

Spring Breaks Loose

summary: It's a beautiful Spring day, and you're spending it with Javier and your two pet calves, Daphne and Velma. To keep your husband on his toes, you ask him some very random questions.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: T (No y/n, Husband Javier Peña, Soft Javier Peña, mild language, oral sex mention (f + m receiving), domestic fluff, slice of life, pregnancy, waxing poetic about cheese, romantic comedy, Javier referring to you, Daphne, and Velma as ‘his girls’)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: Hello there! To celebrate Learning to Live's third birthday (insane), I wrote something that has art! Thank you to all of those still reading this labor of my love. It means a lot to me that you've stuck with me this long. This story will always have a special place in my heart, and I'm so happy to share it with others. ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you!

Art by the incredible @kenobiwanx! (Thank you, it's perfect!)

(Note: Cielito is a reader-insert character and written without physical attributes, so you can picture her however you want. Cielito is you! I just needed a reference for the artwork, so I chose a model that kind of looked like me. 😊)

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The warmth of spring is a welcome change from the chill of winter. The shining sun will begin its descent soon, and you’ll watch it from the base of this towering oak tree, beneath its curving branches and green leaves. You sit with your husband while the two calves you call your bovine daughters graze nearby.

His large palm is a comfort, resting on your belly, your hand over his.

“Okay,” you start. With how you’re lying back across Javier’s lap to prop yourself up on his bent knee, it’s easy to gaze at his beautiful, smiling face. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or one hundred duck-sized horses?”

For the last twenty minutes, you’ve been asking him random questions. If you could be any Skittle, what color would you be? Red. Do you put on your socks left or right foot first? Right. Do you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain? Yes, as long as it’s with you.

“A horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses…” he replies. “Hmmm.” His expression shows he’s really thinking it out, which delights you. “A horse-sized duck could do some real damage. I think I’d choose the duck-sized horses. It’d be a bitch fighting a hundred, but definitely better than a giant fucking duck.”

“Solid answer.”

“What would you choose?”

“Oh, absolutely, the duck-sized horses. You’re right about the horse-sized duck doing damage. That’s a no, thank you from me.”

He chuckles. “You got another question?”

“Ummm.” You take a second to think of one. “Oh! If you had to choose, would you give up cheese or blow jobs for the rest of your life?”

He frowns. “Can I still eat you out?”

You giggle. “Yes. You can give oral, but you can’t receive it.”

“Fuck, this is a hard one.”

You smile. “I know.”

“You give really fucking good head.” That makes you preen. “But, a lot of the shit you cook has cheese in it, and you know how much I love your food.”

The only person whose cooking he loved more than yours was his late mother’s. But, from what you’ve heard, eating her food was a religious experience, so you understand.

“You love it a lot.”

He smiles. “I do. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’d give up blow jobs.”

“Wow, that’s a little surprising. Also, very sweet that you’d choose my cooking over getting your dick sucked.”

His free hand caresses your face, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheek. “I can live without blow jobs, but I can’t live without your food—”

“Awe.”

“—or eating your pussy.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”

He chuckles and quickly pecks your lips. “What about you?” He asks when he pulls back. “Cheese or my mouth?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“It’s hard to choose, right?”

“Yeah, it is. ‘Cause you are fucking amazing at eating pussy. Like, you deserve the highest honor for being the ‘World’s Greatest Cunnilinguist.’” That makes him laugh, his smile so big his dimple appears. “It’s true. I’m not even joking. Then we have cheese—glorious, delicious cheese. A gift to humankind. The eighth wonder of the culinary world.”

He’s amused. “I think I know, but which would you give up?”

“My god. I’m sorry, babe, but I think it has to be oral. I can’t imagine living without cheese. It’s cheese, for goodness’ sake!”

“I’m not surprised by your choice. You fucking love cheese.”

“Um, who doesn’t love cheese? Like, cheese is so good that many lactose-intolerant people are willing to suffer for the tasty goodness, and I don’t blame them. Also, you love cheese. Don’t deny it!”

He’s looking at you with soft eyes and a soft smile, the fondness clear on his handsome face. “I do love cheese.”

“Thank you. Now, it’s your turn to ask a question—look, the girls are curious about what their dad is gonna ask.”

The calves approach you both and lie down—the red one, Daphne, choosing a spot in the grass beside you to rest her head in your lap while her sister, Velma, gets comfortable on the ground by Javi’s feet.

It makes you smile, your hand moving to stroke your fingers over the red calf’s head.

“Can’t let my girls down,” he replies. “Let me think.” His eyes move away from yours for only a moment as he thinks about it. He meets your gaze again. “If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”

“A classic. I’m assuming no wishing for more wishes?” you ask.

“Correct.”

“Okay. Universal healthcare, perfect tits, and for our family to be happy and healthy.”

He huffs in amusement. “You already have perfect tits.”

“Right now, they’re pretty great, but I’m thinking post-however many babies we’re gonna have, and, you know, aging.”

“They’ll still be perfect.”

You smile, playfully swatting at his chest. “Stop it, or I’ll beg you to get me pregnant.”

His lips turn up, his expression matching yours. “You’re already pregnant.” For emphasis, he rubs his palm over your dress-covered tummy where you aren’t even showing yet.

“Fine, double pregnant, which—“ You frown. “—when I actually think about that, it sounds awful for a first pregnancy. I have bad enough heartburn with one baby growing inside me, and don’t get me started on the morning sickness. Why do they even call it that? It’s misleading. This shit is all day. How worse would all of this be with two buns in my Easy-Bake oven?”

He leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Thankfully, this time around, you don’t have to find out.” He sits back to look into your eyes, his eyebrows creasing in concern. “Are you nauseous right now? Do we need to head back to Pop’s?”

Instead of coming out here on horseback, Javi brought you in his truck with the girls in a trailer behind it. He drove slowly, so the bumps weren’t too bad.

Your free hand went over his on your stomach again, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “No, I’m okay. It’s not too bad right now.”

“If it gets worse, tell me, and we can go.”

“I will. Thank you, babe. So, what are your three wishes?”

“A chance to talk to my mom again.” That didn’t surprise you. She passed away eight years ago, and he missed her dearly. “I’d love to tell her how happy I am, and all about you and her first nieto (grandchild) on the way.” He rubs small circles on your belly.

“She’d be so excited about her nieto (grandchild).” It is still too early to know the baby’s gender. “Not only that, I think she’d be more excited than Pop, and that’s saying something since he literally shows the sonogram to every single person he talks to.”

It’s true. He keeps it in his wallet, and any time he goes into town, he shows it to whoever he sees.

An amused huff leaves him. “You’re right. She’d be way worse than Pop.”

“We’d love it, though.”

“Yes, we would.”

“What‘s your second wish?”

“To have a baby with you,” he answers immediately.

You smile. “How does it feel to know that wish is going to come true?”

His face visibly lights up with a toothy grin that makes you giggle. “Fucking amazing. I am the happiest man on the entire planet, and it’s all thanks to you.” He pecks the tip of your nose.

“I wouldn’t say it’s all me. I mean, you had a part in making the baby. It was a small one that only lasted like, ten seconds, but it was still pretty important.”

“Sure, but I believe you once said that I only contribute a pleasurable 1% to our group project that you are doing 99% of the work on. By those numbers, I think you deserve all of the credit. So, it is all thanks to you, mi amor (my love).”

“If you insist.”

“I do. I honestly can’t believe how fucking lucky I am. I’m married, we have a kid on the way, we’re gonna have a house, and a dog. Christ, two years ago? I never would’ve imagined this was what my future looked like. Someone could’ve told me, and I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“You’ve come a long way, and I’m just glad you’re finally getting to live a happy life.”

“I am, too.” It’s hardly any effort for him to lean forward, closing the distance to press his plush lips to yours in a tender kiss—warmth spreads through your veins, and your eyes close, relishing this sweet moment. When he breaks away, he gently nudges your nose with his, and your eyelids flutter open, the expression on his face showing his love and happiness.

“You’re adorable,” you tell him. “What’s your third wish?”

He’s smiling. “For our family to be happy and healthy.”

You share his look. “You, sir, are a sap.”

“You said it first.”

“I did.”

“What’s the next question?”

“Why do I have to come up with all of them?”

“Because you’re better at it than I am.”

“That is so true. Give me a second.”

“Okay.”

You sit there against his leg, one hand over his, the other petting Daphne as you think.

“This next one might be a bit controversial,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Is a hot dog in a bun a sandwich?”

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[survivingandenduring]

PEDRO PASCAL on Jimmy Kimmel Live | March 2025

[survivingandenduring]

Say Cheese, Cowboy

Marcus Pike Masterlist | A03 link | M 18+ | 2.6k words

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Summary: Written for @kedsandtubesocks Wild Ride Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for hosting this, Erika!

My prompt was Marcus Pike + cowboy themed party + workplace romance, so I couldn't resist the opportunity to revisit my Headshots pair (although this can be read as a stand-alone).

Note: The first section of the story is formatted as text messages, so I have added ALT-text descriptions and the content as plain text underneath the images for anyone who may need them.

Warnings/themes: romantic comedy style fluff with a bit of spicy snogging. Established relationship between Marcus & reader who is a photographer. If you didn't know that I’m a Dolly Parton fan, you do now. Surprise party (just in case it makes you jump). Marcus kisses you so good that it pops some inflatable [redacted].

Monday

Text message conversation starting Monday at 9.18am You: How much did you see this morning? Marcus: Not nearly enough. You: Good 😇 Marcus: Honey, you’re killing me. Let me see your costume! You: No! It’s not finished yet. I’m waiting on the…foundations. Marcus: I have no idea what that means. You: Wait until Friday!

Tuesday

Text message conversation starting Tuesday at 11.15am You: Serena is having a panic about the bucking bronco. Marcus: ?? You: Something about potential back injuries? I said if she cancels it, I’m not coming. Marcus: That makes two of us. You: By the way, a parcel arrived for you after you left this morning. 'CheapCowboyz.com'? Interesting choice for a business name if you ask me. Marcus: Don’t open it! You: Cross my heart. Hang on, I thought you said you didn't have time to organise a costume? Marcus: 👀

Wednesday

Text message conversation starting Wednesday at 2.33pm Marcus: I think Jerry might be getting suspicious. Either that or he thinks we’re all assholes. You: Oh no, Jerry! Marcus: Everyone in the office except for me is ‘too busy’ to go for a beer with him after work on Friday. Overheard him muttering by the photocopier about 35 years of service… You: The surprise will be worth it.

Thursday

Text message conversation starting Thursday at 3.57pm You: I don’t think I’ve ever seen Serena this stressed. Marcus: They’ve worked together a long time. I think the term ‘work wife’ was literally invented by her. You: She’s so sweet, she really wants him to have the best retirement send off 🥲

Friday

Text message conversation starting Friday at 5.38pm You: That was a close one! Marcus: I know! I thought everyone was meant to be heading out the back way? You: They were! But some didn’t get the memo. Nice save. Marcus: Lucky that conference room was empty, not sure how we’d explain all the western themed outfits…. You: What did he say when you yanked him in there? Marcus: Covered my tracks with a happy retirement pep talk. You: Where is he now? Marcus: Clearing his desk. Do you still want to get changed in my office? You: Yes, for purely practical reasons. Don’t get any ideas. Marcus: Coast is clear. (You can’t stop me having ideas 😉)

---

You step into Marcus’s corner office, and the heavy glass door closes behind you with a muffled suck. You peek between the slats of the blinds, conscious to avoid any prying eyes, then twist them closed with a metallic clink.

The cotton tote bag slung over your shoulder is stuffed to the brim, and you take each item out now and lay them carefully on the desk in front of you. Then you wriggle out of your work clothes and begin turning yourself into someone else - Dolly Parton to be exact.

Your costume is very camp, it delights you. There's a pair of white patent boots with a block heel, flared light wash jeans with pink butterfly diamantes on the pockets, a denim button-up shirt, a red neck scarf, a bouffant platinum blonde wig, and a white pearlescent cowboy hat. From a plastic packet, you extract the foundations - a pair of inflatable breasts.

There’s a soft rap on the door, and Marcus opens it just a touch. Seeing you semi-decent, but also just the right side of indecent, his face cracks into a crinkly eyed smile as he clocks your outfit.

“Well, howdy.”

“Hiiii.” You drawl, in your best southern accent and give him a twirl.

He lets out a low whistle. “You look amazing.”

“Why thank you, Sir.”

He leans back against the door and rolls his eyes into the back of his head with an overexaggerated groan. “Honey, you can’t say things like that in my office when I need to leave in…5 minutes.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t tease you anymore.” You smile. “But before you go, can you help me blow up these tits?”

Marcus snorts out a laugh and shakes his head as he scoots up next to you.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I know.” You grin and hand the squeaky, acrid smelling, plastic over to him. “Now, you’ve got to sort of squeeze and blow at the same time, if that makes sense? Like a pool float.”

“Gotcha.” Marcus sits on the edge of his desk and starts to inflate the ridiculous things for you.

The phone on his desk begins to ring, and he hooks the receiver under his chin, the rubbery valve still caught between his teeth.

“This is Pike.” He says thickly out of the side of his mouth. “Jerry, no, of course I didn’t forget, I’ll be down in two. Yep…yep…bye.”

He turns to you and gives your outfit another approving, lingering stare.

“Gotta go, it’s showtime.”

He pulls you towards him by your belt loop, then cups your cheek and kisses you.

“Mmm, you look too good right now. I’m coming to find you the second the cheers of surprise die down, OK?”

You tip your cowgirl hat at him and wink.

-

“Serena, will you breathe, please?” You hiss, keeping one eye on the parking lot from your lookout spot at the curtained bar window.

“I'm sorry, I just want him to love it!” She exhales and blinks up at the ceiling.

There are close to eighty people all poised on the hay bales you’d lugged inside earlier (the bar manager was less than thrilled about these). Hushed murmurs whisper around the room as they all wait for the man of the hour to arrive.

The gingham clothed tables are stacked with plates that will later be piled high with BBQ food, and in every other available space, there's some kind of cowboy themed party game. You'd been particularly proud of your contributions; a cactus hoopla game you'd found at the thrift store and a pin the FBI badge on the horse which you'd made yourself.

This rodeo themed bar venue already had a mechanical bull, although hiring it and signing all the insurance wavers had cost extra. You looked forward to seeing the photos that came out from that one.

You see Marcus's BMW pull into the parking lot and wave towards your friends and colleagues.

“OK, they're here!”

The bar staff dim the strings of filament lights overhead, and you hear Marcus's voice get closer as they approach the door, a slight crack in it as he says “After you, Jerry.”

They walk through the swing doors and are met with a riot of whoops, claps, and cheers of “SURPRISE!”

Once it subsides a little, you see Marcus slap a friendly palm on a dumbstruck Jerry's shoulder.

“Well, I think I speak for us all when I say that we couldn't let our friend Jerry Outlaw retire to Kansas without throwing him a party. Your work wife of 30 years Serena insisted on the theme, and looking around at all these outfits, it's clear that no one is mad about it.”

There's a hum of agreement in the room.

“Now, I think we should get this party started? And if you see my wife approach you with a clipboard , I'd advise you to run before you get signed up for karaoke.”

That last part is drowned out by the opening chords of Life is a Highway. Marcus takes his cue to dip out to collect his costume from the trunk of his car. He mouths “I'm going to go change” at you with a mischievous look on his face.

You are, of course, in charge of taking photos to capture tonight’s celebrations so you work the room . The theme is bringing out everyone’s silly side, and your memory card is soon getting filled with finger guns, tipping Stetsons, and skipping rope lassos being unsuccessfully whipped overhead.

You grab a bite to eat from one of the metal platters that have begun to fill the long tables, musing that steak isn’t exactly a canape, nor is it particularly easy to eat off a solitary cocktail stick.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you, followed by a confident rumble of “Ma’am.”

You spin around, and both your jaw and your half eaten steak hit the floor.

“Holy fuck.”

Marcus had claimed that he wouldn’t have time to get a costume or the opportunity to change without Jerry getting wise to surprise. He was a filthy liar.

“What’s the matter, honey?” He frowns playfully. He enjoys these little games. “Is there something wrong with my costume?”

You beckon him closer with your finger. “Let me get a look at you. Gimmie a twirl.”

Marcus spins on his heels, and you suck your teeth at the sight of his cute little behind in those tight jeans. Tight jeans and brown leather chaps. A red plaid shirt, complete with bolo tie, is stretched over his broad shoulders and tucked into a bullhorn buckled belt at his waist. But the thing that’s really got your attention? The hat. As deep brown as the eyes, it's perfectly framing.

Marcus runs the pad of his index finger and thumb across the rim.

“You like?”

“Looking better than a body has a right to.” You grin. “So much for you not dressing up.”

“Wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”

“Put it this way, if I were on a horse, I’d have fallen off.” You lift your camera up to your face. “Freeze Pike, I’m going to shoot you.”

Marcus laughs one of his deep, heart filling laughs.

“Can you help me with something?” He quips, making you raise an eyebrow. “It’s my footwear. There’s something bugging me.”

You glance down at his feet. Yep, he’s wearing actual cowboy boots. Pretty snazzy ones, in fact, in a pewter coloured crackled leather.

“What’s up with them? Besides them not being my size. Which is rude, quite frankly.”

“Can you just…check them for me…” He’s practically chuckling in that way that he does when he’s setting up one of your bits.

“Alright, alright.” You sigh affectionately. “Just come out with it.”

Marcus pulls a green rubber snake out of the top of his boot and throws it on the ground with a triumphant cry of “There’s a snake in my boot!”

“My god.” You laugh. “How long have you wanted to set that joke up for?”

“Three weeks?” He grins.

“That’s my man right there - committed. Now, come buy this ‘lil lady a drink and tell me exactly where you acquired this outfit.” You link your arm through his and give his bicep a stroke for good measure. “Please tell me it’s bought not rented, because I already have some ideas…”

The two of you grab drinks and catch up with colleagues you haven't yet said hello to. Marcus holds himself a tad taller every time he catches you staring at him.

After a little while apart, he slips his hand into yours and whispers into your ear. “Why has it taken this many years for me to learn you had a cowboy kink? I’m seriously impressed.”

“I have been awakened.” You say, lowering your voice so that only he can hear you. “But I think if you were really serious about this, those chaps would be assless.”

Marcus chokes on a laugh and is saved from replying by your name being called out over the karaoke mic.

“Come and do ‘Islands in the Stream’ with me?” You say, pulling your best pretty please face.

“Absolutely not.” He shudders. “No-one needs to hear that. Plus, I’m next up on the bronco, and I’ve bet my boss I can stay on for 90 seconds.”

“Well, I’m going up. Can’t be Dolly and not go to Dollywood, can I?”

He kisses you on the cheek. “Sing a song for me, honey.”

You step up onto the stage, flick through the thick ring binder of song choices, pick one of your favourite Dolly songs, and tap the mic.

“Howdy, friends. This one is dedicated to my main squeeze. The yee to my haw. The raw to my hide - wait - scratch that last one.” You feel a twist of embarrassment. “OK, press play, please!”

Why'd you come in here lookin' like that

In your cowboy boots and your painted on jeans

All decked out like a cowgirl's dream

Why'd you come in here looking like that?

-

“You did a great job with all of this.” Marcus scans the room from the hay bale you're both sitting on.

As the night has gone on, the party has got more raucous, the laughter louder and the karaoke much, much worse.

You lean your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for Serena. If she hadn't given me a job, there would be no us.” You laugh. “She said if she can't have a Hallmark movie of her own, she'll take a seat watching ours.”

Marcus replies with a contented hum, then pinches your chin and tilts your face up to his. The lines around his eyes are deeper than when they were when you first photographed him. He has a little more salt sprinkled through his hair, but he still looks at you in the exact same way. Your muse.

He kisses you like he always does, like it's the first time but also oh so familiar. His soft palm cradles your face as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You slide your hand over his plaid shirt and up until your fingertips find that one curl of hair that always springs free behind his right ear.

“Meet me out the back in one minute.” He growls. “Keep your cowboy hat on.”

-

“There you two are!”

Loren from Purchasing calls over to you as you and Marcus try to slip back into the party undetected. You wonder if she noticed you tucking your shirt back into your jeans and straightening your bouffant wig.

“We just needed some air!” You say, not meeting her eye.

“Did you find it?” Her eyes flick down to your chest. “Because you look a little deflated there.”

You glance down, following her eye line and notice to your equal amusement and horror that one of your inflatable boobs has popped.

“You've given me a puncture, you menace.” You mutter out of the side of your mouth to Marcus.

“Sorry honey, I can't hear you.” Marcus grins. “It's so loud in here.”

Loren taps Marcus's arm and points towards the dance floor. It's filled with couples and groups of friends swaying as Tammy Wynette croons about standing by her man. Serena seems to be taking this instruction literally. Her arms are draped around Jerry's shoulders as she rests her head against his chest.

“Well, would you look at that. It's about time she made her move.” Marcus smiles.

You look from them, to Loren, to Marcus.

“How did I miss this?”

“No idea, the rest of us have known a long time.” Marcus shrugs. “She's loved him since, well, forever.”

“But he's leaving?”

“And she quit this morning.” Loren smiles.

Marcus squeezes your hand. “Can I have this dance, cowgirl?”

“Alright.” You smile as he shoots you with finger guns before holstering them in his jeans pockets. “One more do-si-do, and then we ride off home.”

A/N: Huge thank you to @goodwithcheese for your help with this story. Love as always to my muses and helpers @schnarfer @jolapeno @maggiemayhemnj @toomanytookas

Folks, you can blame @bitchesuntitled for the Toy Story silliness because she said Marcus would channel Woody, and that is now canon to me.

Thank you @604to647 for your tips on making fake texts!

Marcus Pike/Headshots taglist:

@harriedandharassed @imdrinkingpedro @inept-the-magnificent @the-blind-assassin-12

@chujo-hime @burntheedges @ishabull @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @sin-djarin

@whocaresstillthelouvre @sawymredfox @trulybetty @jennaispunk @katareyoudrilling

@sunnytuliptime @theravenreads @insomniamamma @yopossum @thundermartini

@5oh5 @msjarvis @oliveksmoked @axshadows @casa-boiardi

@tuquoquebrute @kirsteng42 @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave @purplerain04

@yxtkiwiyxt @medellintangerine @enchantingchildkitten

[survivingandenduring]

Texts with Plant Daddy Dieter

A Closed Position Extra (Just for fun)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist

Just a fun new series for more nonsense and ridiculousness between our two favorite dance partners. You know Dieter would 100% send Kat some plant porn. 🥴

🪩 Want more? Read it here:

CP tag list: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza

@girlofchaos @trulybetty @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923

@sherala007 @pastelnap @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites @senorabond @annalovesflorida @sandaltoesocks @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

[survivingandenduring]

FLUFFBRUARY 11: reflection | water | apology (Eddie the Vampire)

ADIRA'S SELF-IMPOSED FLUFFBRUARY RULES:

Six sentences.

Must be fluffy.

All 29 ficlets must feature a different Pedro.

All three words must be used (Fluffbruary prompt list here).

Use the words in order.

I reserve the right to break rules and/or cheat.

There's no reflection in the puddle at his feet.

You've been looking for Eddie for almost an hour and find him on a park bench in the quad, staring into the small pool of water, not really sure if he's looking at it or past it into the realms of thought.

Of course he hears you coming, but doesn't look up when you slide onto the bench beside him and slide a warm hand into one of his cold ones to ask, "Were you bored with the party or did you just need some air?"

"I was feeling a little out of place," he grins nervously, in sweet apology, "like, all those people are super cool and I'm just... I'm just stupid me, stuck in 1999."

It suddenly becomes apparent what he's searching for in that little puddle of his and you reach up to turn his face toward you, watch him come back into smitten focus as you run and ruffle your fingers though his hair, smoothing it before placing a kiss to his forehead.

"There's a drawing class tomorrow night in my department and I want you to come model for it," you tell him, watching as wonder boils to the surface, his youthful features brightening in understanding and adoration, "because there are some damn good artists in the mix and I think it's past time you're reminded just how beautiful you are."

___

@fluffbruary

FLUFFBRUARY MASTERLIST

[survivingandenduring]

PEDRO PASCAL as CLINT Freaky Tales (2025) dir. Ryan Fleck, Anna Boden

[survivingandenduring]

that ending!!

fuuuuuuuck

and obviously all stupid hot 🥵

Love the breastfeeding/overall tits obsessions here however have we done any sort of nipple clamp “torture” esc thing that could be something… I need mine played with now!!! (torture seems like such a harsh word but u know what I mean)

Sore

Joel Miller x F!Reader

notes: ok so I did go a bit "torture" ish on this one and maybe a little dark but you know what, lets roll with it!

Warnings: Dom!Joel, bondage, lactating, breastfeeding, breast slapping, nipple clamps, overstimulation, bondage, dry humping, vibrators, blindfold, dark!Joel vibes at first. not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Tommy pat his brother on the back as the two of them finished a long day’s work.

“I’ll come by tonight for dinner?” The younger Miller asked as he hopped back in his truck.

Joel waved him off. “Nah I got other plans tonight.”

Tommy chuckled. “Like what? Got a date?”

Joel shook his head, closing the door for him. “Something like that. I’ll see ya tomorrow, little brother.”

Tommy waved him in the mirror and drove off.

The older brother waited until his truck rounded the corner, the facade of his kindly smile fading as the truck disappeared.

He stepped inside, making sure to lock the door behind him with a firm click, and an extra latch. Can never be too safe out there, with all the news going around lately of some creeps harboring young women in their basements, or forcing them into lewd acts in public.

Joel wouldn’t want you exposed to them.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy boots until he reached the last bedroom door, swinging it open. A faint buzzing could be heard, along with desperate breaths just barely grasping at air. Caught between a whine, a moan, and scream, Joel loved it all.

He took a moment to bask in the sight he had left you in: wrists softly but securely bound to the wooden posts, back pressed against the headboard with eyes blind folded. Your legs were spread and bound similarly. The buzzing could be traced to the bullet vibrator buried deep inside your pussy, and a wand taped right at your clit. no matter what tiny movements you made, you were unable to escape the constant assault in your poor pussy. A generous spot of dampened arousal had been steadily gushing from between your legs and onto the silken sheets below you.

This wasn’t unusual, however. Joel had put you in this position, and promptly forgotten about you the whole day, many times before. 

The new experiment today that he had tried out… well, the sheer sight of it was making him leak in his tight jeans.

Your swollen nipples were clamped almost painfully by a claw on each tit. The breasts themselves were enormous, full of sloshing milk that hand’t been released in over 12 hours now. 

He had sucked your breasts so hard, so frequently, you had started to lactate all on your own. And wanted to be sure they reached their full bursting potential.

“J-Joel,” you whimper with a cry softly. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel the temperature of the hot room change with the breeze of the door open. There was a sudden thrill and fear that patterned your skin, unsure if the man who’d just graced your presence was the one you trusted, or a complete unknown, ready to take advantage of you.

Joel had left you in a vulnerable place. Joel had always told you there were weirdos out there who wouldn’t hesitate to use you. Joel knew how to keep you safe.

“S’me, sugar.” He closed the door behind him, inching closer to the side of the bed. He lets out a low whistle. Your legs shook tirelessly, stomach flexing with each pant. There was a slight curve of your lip twitching even through it all, so happy to have him back after hours of this pleasure-torture.

“I-c-c-c-came—lots,” you stammer, looking towards the side that he was standing. 

He pats the soaked covers. “I see that. How many? You count for me like a good girl.”

He switched the vibrator on a higher setting, instantly making you bite your lip and toss your head rather hastily backwards. You let out a quivered cry. “N-no. Lost—mmmmmf!—lost—c-count—“

“I know, baby. Didn’t expect ya to remember.” He rubbed two thick digits along your folds and downwards, careful not to disturb the wand. Jesus, even your pulsing asshole was delectably soaked from your sticky fluids. It wouldn’t take much at all to force his fist into you…

His eyes flickered back up to your breasts.

No, he had more important matters to attend to.

You let out a gasp when Joel finally flicked the bullet and wand vibrators off. your body still continued to convulse with shivers afterwards, body unable to relax.

“Am I —D-done?” 

He shook his head. “One last thing f’me. Then I’ll take care of ya.”

You gulped.

He sat on the bed, untying only one of your bound wrists, but not the other. 

He very gently cupped the underside of one boob.

“NO!” You thrashed back, the sensitivity of your full breasts shocking you.

“Shhh-shhh it’s okay now, don’t fight it. I gotta let theme breathe.” He goes to touch them again, as carefully as possible. 

You let out a whimper, but tried your best to not flinch as hard. They were beyond sore, tight, and inflamed. You had never felt them so heavy in your life, and so unable to relieve. They sat densely, uncomfortably so, against your chest. 

You couldn’t even feel the nipples. The clamps had ensured they were squeezed tight enough to prevent any spill of milk. But even as Joel fondled your breasts tenderly, he could start to see a bead of white peaking its head out from their clasped state.

Joel licks his dry lips. It’d been at least two days since he last sucked you dry of milk. Your tits were now twice the size they were when he first found you. He’d intentionally skipped lunch today so he could feat upon your nuturing glow. 

“They hurt,” you whine pathetically with a wobbly lip. 

He continues to rub the fattened parts, away from your areoles for a bit. your nipples practically pulsed. Red and hardened, piercing out at least a half inch. They were in desperate need of release.

He blows cool air against them, causing you to recoil slightly. It must have felt good, the way your second move was to lean a little closer, pressing your perky boobs closer to his mouth. He blew more air on them, letting you get used to it.

He noticed your one free hand was patiently pressed into the mattress next to you. He guided it around his neck, giving you some leverage to hold on to him.

“Imma take these off of ya now,”he whispers against your skin with a kiss.

You bite back a choked sob, nodding. 

He carefully unclasps the clamps one at a time, attentive not to hurt your already puffy nipples. Fuck, the milk was already returning to their streams, your nips practically inflating and pebbling even more heavily with white liquid, ready to burst.

“There,” he grins, admiring his work. “That’s better now, ain’t it?”

You hum, but hesitantly. “They’re still…sore…”

“I know baby. I’m gonna drain them now.” He wrapped your legs around his waist, your damp core instantly soaking his jeans. His hardened bulge insistently pressed against your sensitive mound.

With his forehead aligned to your chest, he stuck his tongue out along your nipple.

“Ah!” You gasped, but the hold he has on your back, with both arms wrapped firmly around your middle, keeps you pinned close as he wraps his lips around your nub.

He hums when that first burst of milk explodes into his mouth. He closed his eyes, almost ready to cum in his pants. 

You sighed heavenly above him, relaxing into his touch as he quickly gulped mouthfuls of milk, sucked straight from your achy tit. you could practically feel a heavy weight lifting off your chest, despite the sensitivity. His Adams apple bobbed against your skin. 

Your free arm gripped his shoulders a little tighter, bringing him closer to feed. Not that he was letting go.

He pulled off with a generous pop, swallowing the remains in his mouth. “Oh Baby, you taste divine. Look at these perky titties we made…”

With less love than he showed before, he pinched both nipples and tugged, making you yelp while squirts of milks shot out at him. He stuck his tongue out wide with a grimace as it sloppily landed on his mustaches, lips and tongue. 

You couldn’t push him off from the torture, with your other wrist jangling uselessly to the bedside still. All you could do was let him have his fun. 

Joel kisses your breast again before returning to drinking the other one. It was at least a couple minutes of alternating sucking before he finally spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl f’me. I can’t tell ya how proud of you I am. Ya learned so much since we first started. You remember what a naughty girl you’d been?” He strokes soothingly along your back as he latches back on to your nipple again. You couldn’t see, but his eyes begged up at you.

You nodded. “Y-yes.” You did remember, how much more painful your punishments and practices were before this. You’d been in the same position before, passed out from exhaustion. He and you both knew you were improving.

“Yeah, that’s my sugar. Then we got these milkers all fattened up—“ He hastily slaps the side of one, making you jump with a scream. “—look at that fuckin’ jiggle baby. Tits were made for milkin’.” 

He sucked and slapped, watching the red fade with each gentle and harsh treatment. You handnt even realized you were grinding down on his bulge, soaking through to his throbbing cock.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He taunts, thrusting upward so you could feel his need. “Gonna cum while Daddy sucking these big fat titties?”

“Yes—yes-yesyesyes Daddym’gonna-cum!”

“Go on—soak my cock.” He takes a particularly harsh such against a nipple, swallowing its plentiful sweetness before releasing it was a smack. “Make me feel how much you love getting your tits milked by your Daddy.”

Your knees bent around his ass, locking him against you. Hips working of their own accord, and with one arm grasping around his neck, you used his tented boner to get yourself higher. You’d cum more times today than you could possibly count, and yet it still didn’t deter just how needy you’d been all day for his touch.

Joel rips the blindfold off of you. Your eyes are blurry for a moment, but you feel his rough hand grip the back of your neck and center your focus right on to him. 

“Look at me when ya cum for me,” he growls. He grits his teeth angrily, rocking your hips back against for against his crotch.

His eyes were dark, blown wide and hungrily chasing both of your orgasms.

“Im gonna cum, daddy,” you warn.

He slaps your tit hard again. “What was that?”

“Gonna cum!”

He slaps the other one, then backhanded. “Say it again. Tell Daddy.”

“I’m—fuck—fuckDaddy I’m gonna cum! GonnacumgonnacumgonnacumcumcumcumCUMCUM!” You babble, eyes getting lost in ecstasy as pleasure builds higher in your system. You’d be floating on the bridge between pleasure and pain all day, and you were finally about to jump off it.

“Cum f’me then, sugar!”

You choke on your breath, forehead clashing with his. Nothing goes through your brain except for blinding hot white, as is the rest of your body following suit. Crescendoing from your core, an outwardly pleasure spread like fire. You finally let out a long needed moan as your orgasm tears open your entire nervous system, turning you inside out, landing safely in Joel’s tight grip.

He keeps his eyes open for as long as possible until he start’s spilling thick and sticky in his pants, grunting like an injured bear. Each delicious pulse measures up to yours as the two of you cling to each other. He refuses to even let his grip soften on you, your breasts smashed against his whiskered jaw, inhaling the scent of milk and your arousal fumigating the room and his senses. 

When you both finally catch your breath, there’s very little holding you up against gravity. Joel unlatches your last wrist restraint before letting you fall against him, his back slowly collapsing against the bed with you securely atop him.

He strokes the back of his muscles against your spine, staring up at the ceiling. It’s so quiet aside from the labored breathings that were soon returning to a steady rhythm.

“Joel Miller,” you whisper in his chest, planting a chaste kiss to the vein in his neck. 

Nuzzling your temple with his, he listens, patiently.

“I want to stay with you.”

He closes his weary eyes. He doesn’t say anything, at least not for a while. Maybe you’re hoping he won’t.

But he has to.

“S’time for you to go home, sugar.”

- - - -

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[survivingandenduring]

Kyla! Happy February! I’m dropping in today with a valentine from me and Marcus!

And for your treat, I’m attaching a box of Nerds. Enjoy!

Happy early Valentine’s Day, love!