theewokingdead - Tumblr blog

theewokingdead · 8 days

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Can't wait for the next part to come in about 6 months 😂

Kidding, kidding.

This was a fantastic start. I can't wait to read more! It takes me back to when I first played fo4.

A 1950s-esque Benny? Yes please.

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader nicknamed "Juni"

Word Count: 3600+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I've had this idea in my head for well over a year and with the Fallout show being dropped (and absolutely AMAZING), I figured now was the time to post it! So this is a Triple Frontier/Fallout crossover au. Huge shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to probably hours of audio at this point of me talking myself through this fic. And to @deathbecomesnerds for listening to me prattle on about video game fics and giving me her own advice.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) Masterlist

May, 2067

"We're so proud of you, honey!" My mom hugs me tight, my cap nearly sliding off my head with the force of it.

"We knew you'd get top marks!" My dad claps me on the back and pulls me in for another tight hug, my cap fully falling from my head this time.

"Thanks, Dad." My mom hands me back my graduation cap and I put it back on my head, attempting to get it to stay put as I look out over the crowd of people.

"There's my favorite graduate."

I spin, nearly falling over in my heels but Benny catches me, chuckling as I right myself. His smile is wide and bright, but there's something else. I can't quite place it.

"What a coincidence. My favorite graduate is here too," I bop him on the nose and he chuckles again. He moves to kiss me but then his eyes shift over my shoulder and he backs up, clearing his throat, no doubt having made eye contact with my dad.

"Ben, will you be joining us for dinner?" My mom asks.

"Uh, sure. Save me a seat."

My mom squeezes my shoulder. "We'll see you at dinner, honey."

I give them each a hug before they leave, turning back to Benny. He immediately pulls me to him, kissing me deeply before pulling back.

"Can I take you somewhere?"

"I'll go anywhere with you, Benny."

He takes my hand, so small in his large one, and leads me through the crowd to his old truck. He opens the door for me and helps me in before hopping in the driver's seat. I scoot next to him and lay my head on his shoulder, Benny laying his arm across the back of the seat. We drive for a bit before turning into our neighborhood and pulling into the empty park. We get out and he takes my hand, pulling me towards a juniper tree that was in a field next to the playground. He pulls me to him and kisses me again, my cap long since forgotten in the cab of his truck.

"Why are we here, Benny?"

"Don't you remember this tree, Juni?"

I smile up at him as I glance at the tree. "How could I forget? We met under this tree shortly after I moved here. It's why you call me Juni. Like juniper." I gesture at the tree.

He smiles at the memory. "We were what...5?"

"Yeah. Such a long time ago. Now look at us. 18 and heading to college."

There's an awkward silence and I look up at him. "Benny?"

He rubs the back of his neck, not quite looking at me. "About college."

I step back from him. "You're not going through with the sign up, are you??"

He holds his hands out, trying to placate me. "Look. Will is already there. He flew through basic and they're putting him in a special force if he keeps it up-"

"There's a war, Benny-"

"Exactly. And I know we aren't there yet, but we both know there will be a draft eventually-"

"You don't know that!"

"And if I sign up voluntarily, I get some say in where I go. I'm a way better shot than Will so I think I can make it into his-"

"No. No! I can't...I don't....I'll go with you!" I'm fighting back tears, my voice catching in my throat.

Benny shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. You need to go to college. You're too smart. Get that masters in..what was it...bio-nuclear agriculture practices? Sciences?"

I shake my head. "I don't care. I want to be with you! Unless...do you not-"

Benny's face becomes serious. He cups my face and forces me to look at him, his eyes so bright but worried. "Don't think that I don't want you. I do. I want you forever and always. But I have to do this. I have to get ahead of it. This way, I can watch Will's back too."

My tears break free, sliding down my cheeks. "I'm scared, Benny. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me."

"You'll find some other girl and...and..." Benny cuts me off with a kiss, my tears rubbing off onto his face. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a simple, plain gold band. Not too thick.

"Benny?"

"Look, I'm not forcing anything on you. I can't do that to you, especially signing up for the army. But I did make this promise ring. And, in a few years when you're all graduated, if you still want to, I'll add a rock to it and we'll get married."

I hold the small band in my palm, touching it with my fingers before looking back up at him.

"This was not the best proposal," he chuckles and I do too, despite everything.

"It wasn't a proposal. It's a promise. How about you promise to come home to me in one piece?"

"I can promise to try my best."

I nod. "I'll take it."

Benny slides the band onto my finger and pulls out a thicker band from his pocket and hands it to me. I slide it onto his finger, winding his hand in mine and for a moment, we both just stare at our hands, feeling the weight of our futures.

"When you get your own power armor, make sure to send me a photo!"

Benny smiles. "Fuck yeah I will!"

10 years later...

Benny and I had stayed faithful to each other over the last 10 years. My friends never understood why I didn't want to go out partying, dating around. "He said he didn't hold you to anything!" They'd complain. But I would just shake my head. Benny holds all of me, always has, since the day we met under that juniper tree. He took one look at my scared face, alone in this new neighborhood, and took my hand, told me everything would be ok and that we were friends now.

He'd have to be the one to leave because I never would.

We met up over the years, sometimes being lucky his off time would line up with mine. We'd make the most of our time together, Benny preferring to spend as much time as possible between my thighs and I wasn't going to complain about that. But every time we talked about adding a rock to the band, his face would get worried. He said things were heating up with the war and he didn't want me tied down if something happened to him. I told him ring or no, I was already tethered to him.

Then, about 3 years ago, he told me he was saving up for that rock. That it would take him some time. I didn't care how long as we were already married in my mind. Our times together became less and less as the Sino-American War waged on, both sides at a stalemate.

Then finally, in May of 2078, a few weeks after I graduated from Vault-Tec University with my Masters in Bio-fusion Agriculture, Benny knocked on my front door, already on one knee when I answered it holding up a beautiful diamond ring in exactly my style. Once he slid the ring on my finger, I pulled him inside, not making it past the front entrance way before we were tearing each other's clothes off, Benny burying himself inside of me as I try to not slide across the floor.

We were married that same night.

He had to leave a few days later, but we made good use of our time together.

2077

Around late August, Vault-Tec moved my research lab from the city proper to a smaller research lab just outside the city. It worked out fairly well as it was stationed near the vault that was basically up the hill from my parent's suburban home. The one I grew up in. I liked being out of the city. There were less soldiers here, people were stressed still but it wasn't as violent.

The beginning of October rolled in, bringing cooler weather and the start of my favorite season. Morale, as a country, was low, so people took to decorating for Halloween early, the decorations helping people to smile a little more. But nothing put a smile on my face like Benny showing back up, his entire unit, including his brother Will and their other "brothers" Frankie, Santi, and Tom, all returning to their homes.

We spent a couple weeks together before the phone rang in the middle of the night. Benny yawns, picking it up with a grunt, his back immediately straightening out at whomever was on the other end. All I heard was "Yes, Sir," before he hung up.

"You're leaving?" I ask, grazing my fingers across his bare back.

"Yeah," he turns, pulling down the comforter to reveal my bare chest, his finger tracing lines around my breasts, my nipples hardening at the touch. "But not for long. They just want us to escort a higher up when they visit Boston."

"Sounds serious."

He nods, his hand sliding lower, under the covers and pressing between my thighs. "It is. Very serious."

"So..d-do you have t-to leave?" It was hard to focus, the pressure between my legs building the longer he caresses me.

He leans in close, kisses me softly. "Not before I make love to my wife."

He leaves about an hour later, my inner thighs sticky with him, my heart racing not with bliss but with worry that he won't return.

October 23rd, 2077

I wake to birds singing outside my bedroom window, ringing in a beautiful Saturday morning. I roll out of bed, get ready for the day before heading over to my parent's house to stop in for a surprise breakfast. However, my parents were gone, headed into Boston for an appointment, according to our Mr. Handy robot, Hawthorne. In the meantime, the robot had made me breakfast, which I sat and ate, looking at the newspaper but not really taking it in.

I get bored of the paper and set it aside, flipping on the tv, hoping to catch something interesting. I really miss Benny. His absence this week has been weighing heavily on me.

"...followed by flashes, blinding flashes, sounds of explosions. We're trying to get confirmation but we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations. We do have coming in, that's uh...confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detinations in New York and Pennslyvania. My God-"

The TV cuts out and I sit there, momentarily stunned at what the news anchor just reported. Nucelar explosions? That can't be right. But then the siren rings, it's high pitched wail sending goosebumps across my skin.

"Ma'am, I think you need to head to the Vault," Hawthorne advises.

I shake my head to snap out of it, quickly running for the door. When I get outside, soldiers are already in the streets, the vertibirds flying towards Boston.

"...If you are registered, head to Vault 111 immediately!" A soldier yells through a megaphone as my neighbors run screaming in the street, some towards the path that will take them to the vault. Others stay in their driveways, cowering in fear.

Someone pushes past me and I fall, scraping my palms on the pavement. I scramble up, just making it to my feet before someone else collides into me, yelling at me to move my ass. I take one last look around and run to the vault, my bare feet thudding across the dirt path.

I pass neighbors with trunks of clothes scattered everywhere, the husband pleading with the wife to leave everything and just run. My heart is nearly beating through my chest as I make my way up the hill, a small crowd gathered in front of the gate to Vault 111. An angry crowd, yelling over the loud wail of the siren and the whoosh of the vertibird propellers.

"If you're not on the list, you're not getting in!" An official looking man yells at a couple who is standing in front of him, the man shifting his weight to his back foot.

"I'm getting in there!" He starts to move forward, but then the high pitched whine of a mini gun starts up, the soldier in power armor, standing at least a foot over the man, pointing it at him.

"Ok, ok, fine!" The man puts his hands in the air and stands aside, his wife following.

The crowd starts to push together, but I force my way through them, yelling to the soldier.

"I'm on the list!"

"Back away! Back away!" The power armored soldier aims again and the people back away, but only a couple of feet. The uniformed soldier looks down at me, clip board in hand.

"Name?"

"Miller." I give him my first name as well as Benny's and his rank.

"Ben Miller's wife? Head on in. Quick!" He waves me through, but I pause for a moment.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No ma'am. Now please, head inside!"

I look out at the crowd of people, now trying to shove each other to get inside, the gate starting to groan with their press. But the one face I want to see, Benny's, is nowhere to be seen.

I'm sure he's ok. I mean, he's a soldier, in an elite group. He's just guarding some fancy higher up in Boston. I'm sure this is just a precaution. I turn my back on my neighbors and run, as fast as I can, to the platform. Another soldier waves me over and points to the platform, where I stand between some neighbors with a baby and the Hendersons, the people who live across the street from my parents.

My parents. They're on the vault list too. Maybe they got into one nearer to Boston? Is that even how this works?

"Almost there!" One of the other people shouts as we wait to be lowered into the vault. I look out over the tree tops from our place on the hill, the Boston skyline gleaming in the distance, my heart hurting that Benny isn't here with me. I'm sure it's nothing, but I'm still terrified.

BOOM!

The ground shakes violently. My eyes reflect the mushroom cloud that explodes over Boston, it's dome slowly floating up into the sky as its sounds reverberate through my body. I can't help the scream erupting in my throat as a violent wind comes whooshing at us a moment later, the city already in flames. The ground below me moves, lowering us into the vault. We all duck just in time, the wind and fire flowing over the space we took up moments before, the whole cement tube rumbling and shuddering with the force of the detonation. For what seems like an eternity, we're in pitch black darkness, the creaking of the pullies lowering us and the sounds of our own whimpers and whispers, the baby crying our only sounds to accompany us down into the vault.

Then light appears as we settle into place, our platform locking in. The gate in front of us opens and a man in a lab coat beckons us forward from the end of the ramp.

"Welcome to Vault 111! Step this way for registration."

"What happened to all of those people up there?" Someone asked.

"Please, let's just get you registered, and through decontamination, and then we can address all your concerns!" Labcoat offers as he gestures towards a woman in a bright blue jumpsuit, yellow stripes down the middle and around the hips like a belt, giant yellow numbers on the back that say 111.

"They're all dead, you idiot. That was a nuclear bomb!" Someone else replied.

"No it wasn't. I bet that was just a trial. This is all practice." He argues back.

"That heat didn't feel fake," someone else pipes up.

Gone. They're all gone. Benny...No. No, I'm sure he's safe, made it to his own vault. All those fancy rich people had vaults. I'm sure he made it in time and I can contact him once I get checked in. I'm sure the vaults all have a way to communicate with each other. Right?

I take a shaky step forward, wiping the tears from my cheeks, willing them to stop for at least check in. I head to the lady Labcoat indicated and she smiles warmly at me. I give her my name and she runs a finger down her list, tapping on what I presume is my name.

"There you are. Mrs. Miller, female. Is your husband-" she glances back down at the list. "-Benjamin, here?" She looks back up at me, a soft, friendly smile on her face, which falters as she looks at me.

"I...he...he was on a m-mission wi-with..."I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "My husband is Lieutenant Benjamin Miller. He's in Delta Force. He and his squad were guarding some higher up when....do...do you have any...I mean, do you know..." I can barely choke out words, my mind on Benny but also his brothers.

The woman smiles at me. "I understand. I don't have any information here, unfortunately. All they gave me was this clipboard and some boxes of jumpsuits. But I'm sure once you get through decontamination, they can find out for you. Ok?"

I nod, sniffling, feeling the sob trying to burst out of me. The woman looks me up and down, reaching into one of the boxes around her before handing me a folded up jumpsuit that I'm assuming will look just like hers. "There's a bathroom down that hall on the right. Go ahead and get changed, then head down this hall to the next man in a labcoat. Ok?" I take the uniform from her, attempt a small smile, but my face doesn't move. She gives my hand a little squeeze before I make my way to the bathroom.

I quickly change, zipping up the blue jumpsuit. That woman sure is a good judge of size. This thing fits me like a glove. I gather up my clothes and head down the hall she indicated, taking one last look at the giant vault door, huge and solid, before heading towards the next Labcoat, who was beckoning me to him.

"Hi, Miss-"

"Mrs. I'm Mrs. Miller."

He smiles, but it's...unsettling. Something about his eyes worries me but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"You can leave those here," He nods towards the wad of clothes in my arms and points to a large bin off to the side. "We require jumpsuits from all vault dwellers."

I quickly toss my clothes in the bin, just trying to get through this quickly so I can get more information on Benny. My hands are shaking and I'm holding back vomit, willing my brain to not replay what's happened in the last 15 minutes.

He smiles again. "Thank you, Mrs. Miller. If you'll follow me." He turns and heads down another hall, turning to enter the 2nd doorway. Inside the room is rather large and cold, and I shiver, holding my arms around myself as the Labcoat walks further in. There are what looks like pods, about 6 on each side, facing each other. They have a myriad of tubes and pipes coming from them, a little control panel standing next to each pod. The doors appear to open up as opposed to a normal door. We stop in front of one of them, the door standing open for me, and Labcoat gestures to it.

"If you'll just hop in, ma'am."

"What is it?" I look inside and see some cushions, sort of like a chair if your were standing. I glance around and notice more people coming in, all of them standing in front or getting into a pod, donning the bright blue jumpsuits.

"It's a decontamination chamber. We have to make sure everyone is clean and free of radiation and other unpleasentries before we allow you into the vault. For vault health and security, of course."

I nod. "Makes sense. I do have a question."

He looks irritated but then that smile is back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"When I get through here, I'll be able to talk to someone about my husband? He's a lieutenant in Delta Force and I think he may be in another vault."

"Absolutely. Our communications specialists can help you with that."

A sigh of relief escapes me. "So you can communicate with other vaults?"

"Oh yes. Sort of like a telegram. If he's in a vault, we'll find him ma'am. Now if you'll just step into the pod, we can get you through decontamination and one step closer to finding your husband."

My eyes glance around the room, seeing everyone else hopping into their own pods. I'm so nervous, that vomit starting to make it's way back up my throat. And I fucking need Benny. He can't be dead. The possibility that I'd have to face a future without him is nearly unbearable. I turn back to my pod and get inside, nestling myself down into the cushions. Labcoat taps a button on the panel and my door starts to close at the same time as the others. My breathing picks up, air visibly puffing out and I swear it's colder in here than it was in the room.

"Now just relax and you'll be clean in no time!" Labcoat smiles at me.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts only of Benny as my world goes black, my mind slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing I feel is my skin freezing, my body going hard, preventing any sort of movement.

I'm coming, Benny.

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

#benny miller #fallout #ben miller #triple frontier

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theewokingdead · 17 days

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RIP MY PUSSY IM DEAD

*deep breath*

In this latest Garrett interview he looks so Benny to me 🥰 I am also freaking out at the hint of gray in his beard 🫠🥵

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A post shared by Hunnam Hedlund (@hunnamhedlund)

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@bloodyinspirationaldemon @itspdameronthings @musings-of-a-rose @sci-fi-disney-prince @nerdieforpedro

#garrett hedlund

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theewokingdead · 17 days

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RIP MY PUSSY IM DEAD

*deep breath*

In this latest Garrett interview he looks so Benny to me 🥰 I am also freaking out at the hint of gray in his beard 🫠🥵

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Hunnam Hedlund (@hunnamhedlund)

instagram

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @itspdameronthings @musings-of-a-rose @sci-fi-disney-prince @nerdieforpedro

#garrett hedlund

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Thanks for the tags @pedropascalsx

The kids have completely ruined my Spotify 😂

Anyone can play ❤️

go here and show us your all time and last month most listened artists!

ty for tagging me @lavendertales

no pressure tags: @whataperfectwasteoftime @whatsnewalycat @theewokingdead @d-sav @absurdthirst

#tumblr games

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Me coming across this post while in bed eating a donut

#i was not prepared for this #and you dare tag it as joel miller vibes?#holy hell #joel miller vibes

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Thanks for including me ❤️ I'm going to have to read some of these 👀👀

Weekend Update 02/04/2024

Hey Nerdie! How has the week been?

Restful, reflective and a little tearful. Mostly I was hot and bothered though.

Er…what? Was there new Pedro or Oscar content we missed?

No. Just normal Nerdie thoughts they vary widely and do not make sense. Anyway, I’m on a bit of a staycation. I was planning to a fun convention but flights did not work out. 😭

That sucks. No content and no convention for you.

Not all bad. I wrote put out a few fics this week and I have chosen to reign in my focus a bit to help my creative juices marinate on certain titles. Plus I read a lot this week and finally finished my final fic recommendation list. From now on, my fic recommendations will be in my Weekend Updates.

My fics I wrote this week:

1. The Only Time We Have - my first M/M fic with Din and Poe. It went well and it’s under 1000 words. Definitely has smut.

2. Let ‘em hear Puddin’ - My first Joel fic in a while featuring a dirty talking QZ Joel. Most certainly smut.

3. You’re worth the hassle and the dresses - Chapter 4 of Weddings 101 with Dieter. More fluff with a little tension. Oscar makes a return. 👀 No smut but might be on the horizon. I also made a moodboard. I liked it. Might be more or not.

4. What He Deserves - An angsty sad Tim Rockford fic. Tim was contemplating his life choices, but I may have been told it was well written. ☺️

I also did some new masterlists for more characters and a series list for Roc & Doc 😎 I plan on doing two more this upcoming week.

So what WIPs are the lucky ones that get your attention Nerdie? Are they all smut?

I will have you know that I…do write a lot of smut, but not all of it is smut. Like a solid 80-85%. 🤣 I'm actually writing more fluffy things and comedy now, but don't worry. I always have time for horny smut. 😘

The chosen WIPs:

1. Florida Heat - Dave York/Santiago Garcia (porn without plot - 95% smut) All smut - small ice cube explaining why the two men are in the same place. 🤭

2. Roc & Doc part 2 - rom/com because Pedro hasn’t been in one dammit and we deserve it! Also let Tim laugh, he’s a homicide detective, he needs it.

3. Summer Romance (title not finalized) the previous title sucked too, hopefully by the time I finish it, the title will make sense. OFC has a summer romance with Javi G. He needs more love too! It might become one with parts. 👀 We'll see how it goes.

Well Nerdie, we can always count on you to be making some new stuff.

Yes I do, now onto this week's fanfic recommendations!

Fanfic Recommendations for the week! 🫡 There's a lot FYI

To the Flame - chapter 4 by @pedroshotwifey (Javier Pena x female reader) Dark fic

Whiskey & Baby Girl by @absurdthirst (Jack Daniels - Porn Star x plus size female reader)

It's a Little Warm by @megamindsecretlair (Bucky Barnes x black female plus size reader)

I'm here by @writingforcurrentobsessions2 (Javier Pena x female reader)

Chapter 2 of The Nebbie Files by @inept-the-magnificent (Tim Rockford x Jane Nebbie OFC)

Breaking Free by @theewokingdead (Frankie Morales x plus size female reader)

Visions & Loyalty by @reallyrallyauthor (Leto Atreides x female reader)

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - chapter 4 by @soft-girl-musings (Jake Lockley x black female reader)

A Baker's Dozen - Ten by @avastrasposts (Javier Gutierrez x female reader)

Safest with You by @604to647 (Din Djarin - Modern AU x female reader)

Imagine him on top of you by @holacia3 (Frankie Morales x female reader)

The Sweepstakes: Dave York by @katareyoudrilling (Dave York - Porn Star x female reader)

The Sweepstakes: Marcus Pike by @katareyoudrilling (Marcus Pike - Porn Star x female reader)

Gentleman Thief - The Heritage Crimes Universe by @ladamedusoif (The Thief - Casillero del Diablo x female reader)

Shared Document by @katareyoudrilling (Marcus Pike x female reader)

Laminate by @katareyoudrilling (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

Hungry by @endlessthxxghts (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Love you up close by @cardierreh15 (August Walker x Bianca - black female OFC)

Code Duello by @magpiepills

I need a Pilot by @all-the-things-2020 (Frankie Morales x Star Wars crossover)

Santiago Garcia, Baby by @reallyrallyauthor (Santiago Garcia x female reader)

Delta Babysitters Club by @reallyrallyauthor (Santiago as a Dad)

Stalemate by @joelscurls (Frankie Morales x female reader)

It started with a Whisper by @megamindsecretlair (Sam Wilson x black female plus size reader)

The Promotion by @reallyrallyauthor (Poe Dameron x female reader)

Hair by @superhoeva (Carmy Beratta x black female reader)

Talk me Down by @daddy-dins-girl (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x Jersey OFC)

Maverick by @for-a-longlongtime (Marcus Pike x Frankie Morales and watched by Tim Rockford)

Pain in Full part 2 by @alltheglitterandtheroar (Din Djarin x Poe Dameron)

Trigger Points by @whataperfectwasteoftime (Ezra x female reader)

Love Letter by @trulybetty (Dieter Bravo x OFC)

Sunsets by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Somehow, that’s what I read over the week. Please check out the fics and reblog and/or comment because writers love interactions. 🤗

As always stay warm, safe and hydrate! 💦

Love Nerdie! ❤️

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Hi all 👋 I promise I'm alive. Life is just...crazy. I decided to start up my own Etsy business selling 3D printed Disney ears so I've shifted a lot of my focus on getting that together.

I promise I'm working on my Benny fic. Hopefully I'll post some new stuff soon 🤞 I have a lot of ideas, just little time to write 😭

If you've commented on or reblogged anything of mine and I haven't yet responded, please know I am extremely grateful for your love and support 🙏

#update #catie has spoken

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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I walked in the forest So for myself, And nothing to seek, That was my purpose.

In the shade I saw A little flower standing, Shining like the stars, Like little eyes beautiful.

I wanted to break it, Then it says fine: Am I to wither Be broken?

I dug it up with all The little spices, I carried it to the garden By the pretty house.

And planted it again In the quiet place, Now it always branches And continues to blossom.

🌺

Beautiful ❤️❤️

#ask #secret poet #poetry

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Frankie is just the best 😭 Thanks for reading!

Breaking Free - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x Plus Size f!Reader

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size f!Reader Summary: You’ve always felt insecure about your body, especially since your last relationship. It isn’t until you meet Frankie that you wonder if there is more to life than worrying about your appearance. He tells you he loves your body, worships it, makes you feel things you've never felt before. Can you finally feel confident in your own skin? Can you finally break free from your body-hating demons and let yourself love who you are - and let Frankie love you? Word Count: 8.8k+ Rating: Mature – 18+ ONLY POV: First Person Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. A/N: I took over the following ask received by @musings-of-a-rose: "Frankie and the reader (Fem) has been dating for a year and they are completely in love especially Frankie, but the reader is extremely insecure about her body, even if Frankie says he love her body and everything about her, so every time they are in private they have to do it with the lights off but Frankie doesn't really matter about, he give you the time you need, until one night you decide to face your insecurities and surprise Frankie, please do it with all the smut you can." I’ve never answered an ask before because I’m terrified of disappointing people. I guess this is me, like Reader, facing some of my insecurities. I hope you enjoy! Hope this is enough smut! **Reader is plus sized with stretch marks and cellulite, but is otherwise not described. **Post-Triple Frontier but no mention if he has a child or not Please follow @theewokingdeadwrites to get notifications when I post new fics

Masterlist

“What?” I question, leaning towards Frankie, who’s standing next to me with a wide smile and a look of absolute adoration in his eyes while looking at me. The crowded bar bustles around us, filled with people and music and chatter, an atmosphere of excitement filling the room with Christmas just around the corner.

“Nothing,” he replies, practically having to shout over the noise of the bar. He seems embarrassed that I caught him admiring me, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle. He never is. “It’s just…you look incredible tonight. I mean, you always look incredible, but…” He awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “I just can’t believe you’re mine.”

I dip my head, hiding a shy smile, never one to easily accept a compliment. “Thanks,” I say softly but sincerely before sipping the drink in my hand.

It’s odd, hearing someone compliment my appearance. I’ve given up on ever finding myself beautiful; it’s never crossed my mind that other people could still find me attractive. I’ve never heard as many positive things as I’ve heard from Frankie these last few weeks. It feels strange and wonderful, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to believe him.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that this is normal. This is how a relationship should be, how a boyfriend should treat his girlfriend. Just because I can’t see my body through his eyes doesn’t mean I shouldn’t trust his words.

Slowly, I tilt my head back up, my eyes meeting his gaze. I can feel the corner of my mouth curving into a sly smile. “I’m pretty sure you don’t own me though,” I reply teasingly, my voice playful. My heart is pounding in my chest as I bask in the thrill of our interaction, waiting for his response. Though we are just two people standing in a bar, it feels like we are each other’s entire universe.

As he stands there before me, I am struck by how the light catches in his deep brown eyes, causing them to twinkle like stars. His broad shoulders fill out his shirt perfectly, making him look both strong and gentle at the same time.

Frankie laughs, his eyes sparkling with joy. “No, I don’t own you…” he says, his voice trailing off as he leans in closer to me. “But say the word and I’ll make you mine.”

I smile, mischievously. “I thought I was already yours, Francisco?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I meant in a different way, bebita,” he whispers. “I want to make you mine in every way possible.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words, my heart pounding faster as I look up at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk as he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. His hand slides down to rest on the small of my back. He leans in closer, brushing his lips against my ear. “I want to take you home with me,” he murmurs.

My eyes go wide, my cheeks flush as I realize the heated implication behind his words. My body is already responding to his touch. I lean in closer to him, the noise of the bar fading into the background as I focus solely on him.

“I want to worship you,” he continues. His voice is low and raspy, sending a shiver through my body. “I want to make you feel so good that the only name you remember is mine.”

My heart races at his words, my stomach clenching with anticipation. I never thought I could feel this way about someone, never thought I could be so deeply in – dare I say it? - love. But with Frankie, everything feels different.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice quiet. “Make me yours, Francisco.”

The ride to his place is silent, but my mind is racing. Anticipation bubbles up from my stomach and makes its way through the rest of my body, like a hot drink sloshing in a cup. I steal glances at Frankie, drinking in his rugged features and muscular build. The way his hand grips the steering wheel makes me ache for him, imagining those strong hands on my body, the rough skin sliding against the softness of mine. I almost tremble with need for him. But I’m also afraid that he’ll take my clothes off and doesn’t like what he sees.

It's been longer than I care to admit since I’ve been completely nude in front of anyone. And Frankie has told me that he loves my body, but until now, I haven’t been comfortable enough with him to take my clothes off. We’ve never done anything more than making out and heavy petting before, and I’m terrified.

As we step inside his apartment, I can feel my nerves intensifying. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before turning to face him. He stands before me, his eyes roaming over me hungrily, making my heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. His gaze lingers on my curves, and for a moment, I feel self-conscious, but then he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush my hair from my face.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips closing in on mine. I melt into his kiss, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, his hands roaming over my body, igniting every nerve in me. I moan against his lips, unable to resist his touch any longer.

Frankie breaks away from the kiss, his eyes dark and lustful. “I need to have you,” he growls, his hand sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me closer to him.

I can feel the sharp jut of his erection pressing against me, and the thought that he wants me makes me burn with desire. Somehow, we reach his bedroom, Frankie kicking the door closed behind him. He turns to reach for the light switch on the wall, but I quickly grab ahold of his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” I blurt out, my voice echoing through the room. The light filters through the blinds from the moonlight and streetlights outside – enough so that it isn’t pitch black, but the shadows still lurk in every corner. It’s all we need – I don’t want him to see my flaws, to see my heart racing like a wild animal inside my chest. I want, more than anything, to share a passionate night with Frankie, but I can’t let him see me – not when my body is the way it is.

I stand there frozen, watching as he moves closer, a small part of me knowing that he’s not looking at my imperfections. He sees something else entirely. Something that makes me feel seen for the first time in years.

“Are you okay with this?” Frankie questions, concern laced in his voice. “I don’t expect anything from you just because you got this far. If you’re not ready-”

“I’m fine,” I reply as casually as possible, but my words come out almost a bit harsh. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m here because I want this,” I say with more conviction. “It’s just…” I hesitate, thinking about how to explain the truth without revealing too much of myself. “It’s been a while for me.”

“How long?”

“I-I don’t know,” I respond with a shrug. “I stopped counting. At least a year.”

“No pressure then, right?” he jokes, his eyebrows raised and cheeks puffed out in a boyish smile. He reaches for my hand, his fingers warm on mine as he grips them. “I really want this. I want you.” He smiles shyly. “I, uh…” His throat bobs and his cheeks flush. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Smiling softly, I reply, “I think I’m falling for you too.”

Frankie’s lips boldly meet mine as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close. His tongue slips into my mouth and swirls around mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body as it crowds mine, both arousing and protecting me at once, making me feel like nothing else in the world matters. The smell of him invades my senses, a mix of musk and sandalwood that makes my knees weak. I’m too lost in temptation to think straight at the moment and waste no time in removing my clothes, Frankie following my lead. I barely get a moment to get a good look at him before his lips are back on mine.

The air around us crackles with an electric intensity as our naked bodies come together for the first time, my breasts brushing against his chest. His hands roam over me with fervor, memorizing every curve of my body as we move together. The feeling of his bare skin against mine raises goosebumps all over my flesh. And for one shining moment, nothing else exists but the two of us, lost in each other's embrace.

Frankie runs his fingertips across my sides, tickling me slightly before moving down to my waist. The sensation shoots sparks of pleasure throughout my body. He lets out a low growl in the back of his throat, tangling his fingers in my hair as he kisses me. I moan into his mouth, my body aching for more.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you. I bet you taste so fucking good.”

His words only make me want him more. I can feel myself dripping as his hands caress my body. His lips meet my neck, and I can feel his hot breath against the skin of my throat. He gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh, and I can feel it throbbing beneath his touch. I could come just from his kisses and soft touches. Moaning, kissing, I rub my slick pussy up and down his leg, my clit practically ready to burst.

A high-pitched whine fills the air, and it’s an embarrassingly long minute before I realize I made that sound. I haven’t felt this turned on in – well, fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. As the thought hits me, I lose the feeling, lose the edge I’m riding.

The man I was with prior never made me feel special, never made me feel beautiful. He never pulled out the stops to make me feel appreciated—instead, he treated me as an object of his physical desires. Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I try to hold them back.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby,” Frankie says suddenly, and I realize he’s stopped kissing me.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, an obvious lie.

“Bebita, please,” Frankie begs. “Tell me. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I snort at his statement. My cheeks burn with fury and humiliation. I feel tears pressing against the backs of my eyes, wanting to break out. Every time I take a breath, it hurts, like I’ve torn something inside me that shouldn’t have been torn. It hadn’t been just one man who had reduced me to this; the last was just the worst. I’m angry at myself for not loving my body the way I should, but mostly, I’m angry that I ever let anyone tear me down the way they did, to reduce me to a shell of who I was or could be.

Putting both of his hands on my face, Frankie forces me to look at him. My vision is blurred from the tears I won’t allow to fall, but I can see the worry in his eyes.

“What do you see in me, Frankie?” I question, my voice a whisper. “I’m not in shape…I’m not pretty…I-”

His lips seal themselves around mine before I can say anything more, causing me to gasp in surprise. His tongue slips into my mouth, tenderly. I relax into the kiss, and after a moment, he pulls away.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie questions. “Each and every single thing about your body is beautiful.” His hands fall to the slope of my waist. “You are so fucking gorgeous that it hurts how gorgeous you are.”

I let out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “That’s cheesy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frankie chuckles. “But it’s true. My dick is so hard it feels like it could burst. That’s what you do to me.”

I smile.

“Do you believe me?”

“I want to.” I mean.

Frankie holds my face once more, his eyes staring at me softly. “You. Are. Beautiful.”

Who is this man? I wonder as I stare at him, pleasure blurring the edges of my vision. He wants me. He desires me. It’s clear in his face, in his eyes as they smolder with desire. His full lips are parted as he breathes more heavily, his broad chest rising and falling as he devours the sight of me standing before him. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks now but it feels like this is where I have always belonged, like this is what I am supposed to be doing. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Is this only going to lead to more hurt?

I don’t know…but a part of me wants to find out.

He pulls me in for a kiss, his lips soft and gentle against my mouth. Our teeth click together as he kisses me more fully, sweeping his tongue into my mouth to taste me again and again. His warm scent fills my head as our tongues find each other. When I break away, trying to catch my breath, his mouth immediately moves to my throat, kissing a hot trail to the spot behind my ear, where my pulse leaps madly.

“You deserve to be adored and worshiped,” he murmurs into my ear. “I look at you and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.” He nibbles on my lobe before growling. “Can you feel how much I want you? Can you feel what you’re doing to me right now?”

“Yes,” I breath.

“I want you so fucking bad.” His teeth grab onto my lower lip and tug, making me moan again. Then he spends some time kissing along the line of my jaw before returning to ravage my mouth with his tongue. “Do you know the things I want to do with you? Do to you?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to lay you on the bed, spread your legs, bury my face in your pussy, and eat you out until you can’t remember you name. I want to make you come on my mouth, around my cock…”

My eyes go wide and I feel my cheeks flush with color. He isn’t even touching me and I’m so turned on I can feel my body clenching, wetness pooling between my legs. He makes me want him so much I think I can explode from the intensity of it. I’m shaking now, trembling with need and anticipation, and a little fear.

Frankie moves down to my neck, his lips and teeth working against my skin. His fingertips gently cup my breasts, pulling at my nipples. “I want you to scream my name.”

“Fuck,” I whimper, my hands clutching his back. “Touch me.”

“Greedy girl,” Frankie teases, grinning. He presses warm kisses against my throat and chest, moving slowly down my body.

“Please,” I whimper, taking his hand and gently guiding it down my body. “I want you to make me feel good. Please.” His fingers slip between my lips

Frankie groans as his fingers sink into my wetness, teasing my clit lightly before he gently makes contact with it. I shudder as my legs move apart, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, my pussy practically screaming with pleasure. It’s so intense I can’t even think straight.

He slips a finger inside of me and I let out a gasp, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through my body. Frankie’s lips trail up my neck, pressing against my ear, and his voice is harsh, but gentle. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.”

Shivers run down my spine. I sink against him, capturing my lower lip between my teeth.

I whine when he removes his fingers from me, his hands returning to my face, lips crashing to mine. He backs me up until the back of my legs hit the bed and I fall onto the soft mattress. He climbs on top of me, his body weight pressing me down, a delicious feeling of submission washing over me.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes. Always.”

“Close your eyes.”

My eyes search his, a soft smile forming on my lips before doing as he commands.

“I need you to relax. To just feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm.” I’m nervous, but I do as he says, my body sinking into the mattress as I try to relax. I sense him drop to his knees at the foot of the bed. He plants a kiss on my thigh, and I shudder beneath the feel of his warm, soft lips on my skin. I breath in deeply, the shakiness apparent.

“You are breathtaking,” Frankie praises between kisses. His hands grab either side of my hips, pulling me towards his face. He gently nuzzles my mound, inhales my scent. “And you smell like heaven. I can only imagine what you taste like. Fuck, I need to taste you.”

Need. Not want, but need. Fuck, yes.

“Taste me, Frankie. Please.”

My breath hitches when he licks his tongue against my clit. My hand fists the sheets, my thighs already shaking from the rush of sensation pouring through them.

“Oh, God!”

“You taste so good,” Frankie rasps. His deep voice sends a shiver over my skin. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, dinner and still not have enough of you.”

As I writhe, he slides a finger inside me, then a second, reaching the spot that helps lead me to detonation. My stomach clenches, the muscles in my legs tight.

“Frankie, yes! I’m…I…”

With all sense of rhyme and reason lost, I begin to shudder. He presses his fingers deep inside me, thrusting them slowly in and out. His tongue laps against me relentlessly, taking everything I have to give him. The cry of pressurized release that escapes my mouth is startling and loud.

“There it is,” I vaguely hear Frankie praise. “Good girl.”

He crawls on top of me, wiping the wetness from his facial hair with one hand as he hovers above me. God, I love the way his skin feels pressed against mine. “You did beautifully.”

“F-fuck. Fuck me,” I plead between pants.

“No,” Frankie states, planting a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “I don’t want to fuck you, baby. I want to make love to you. Please.” He is sincere. Desire burns in his eyes, free of the disgust of my last partner. “Please, let me have you.”

I nod, unable to speak. He kisses me, and I allow his tongue to seek mine, but he’s soon gone.

Frankie leans toward the nightstand and opens a drawer, pulling out a condom. Quivering in the dim light, I watch him tear the wrapper with his teeth and then roll the condom over his cock. It’s the first time I get a good look at it. Long, thick, and smooth – just like I’d pictured him.

He lines himself up at my entrance, looking me deep in the eyes as he pushes inside. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man inside me that I’m not sure I can take him all the way in, but he pushes in slow, giving me time to adjust.

“Frankie,” I gasp in surprise.

He groans, face nuzzled into my neck. “You feel incredible. So warm and tight.”

“Please, stop torturing me and move,” I beg, loving the feel of him stretching me but needing more. “Move!”

He grins and pulls out slowly, teasing me with just the tip before plunging back in. My back arches off the bed as I moan in pleasure. He kisses me, swallowing my moan as he pulls out once more then thrusts harder into me. Each thrust he makes shoots waves of pleasure through my body. I can feel the buildup of pleasure again, like it’s a ticking time bomb about to go off. He sets a steady rhythm. My nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck,” he moans. “I love your pussy. I love the way you feel. I love…I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I manage to utter before his lips crash against mine.

As he picks up the pace, I feel my body begin to tighten. I’m almost there, but I want him to come with me. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He groans and pumps into me faster, his breathing ragged.

“Come for me,” he breathes. “I’m close, but I need you there first.”

With one hand, I reach down and circle my clit. He kisses my neck, opening his mouth and swirling his tongue on the skin. I come so hard, screaming and going boneless. He slams into me one last time, burying his face into my neck, groaning long and low before collapsing beside me on the bed.

Once his breathing slows, he moves from the bed, leaving me with insecurities. Did I do something wrong? Did he not enjoy himself?

“I’ll be right back,” he utters then stumbles off to what I assume is the bathroom.

My heart races in my chest as my thoughts turn to everything we just did. I’ve never felt so adored, so appreciated, so loved. No one has ever made love to me like he did or talked to me the way he did. My ex-boyfriend hated how I looked and would insist that I cover up because of his discomfort with my body. I remember one night vividly – the night that absolutely broke me. I put on a sexy lingerie set hoping it would help make me feel beautiful. The moment he saw me, his face twisted in disgust.

“Can you put on a shirt or something?”

I try to shake the memory from my head, not wanting to taint the moment I just shared with Frankie. But it’s too late. The tears are already falling from my eyes. I turn onto my side, pulling a blanket over my body as I do. Then I cover my face with my hands, trying to will them away before Frankie returns.

Moments later, I feel the bed shift as Frankie climbs back in behind me, beneath the blanket. The warmth of him presses up behind me, holding me tight against him, his hands warm yet damp. It didn’t cross my mind until then that maybe he was going to get a wet towel to clean up – after-care another thing I’ve never experienced – but he no longer seems concerned about cleaning up.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I just…I thought…” I close my eyes tight, wishing I could will the tears away. As much as it hurts, I want to be completely honest with him. “I’ve never been comfortable in my skin, Frankie. I mean, cellulite? I’m gross. Stretch marks? I’m not beautiful. Thigh gap? What the hell’s that?” I huff, a tear rolling down my cheek. “Loving myself has always been hard. Nobody has ever tried to make me feel good. Then, the last time I tried a relationship with a guy… He never wanted to have sex with me with the lights on. He made me wear a shirt so he wouldn’t have to see me. He made me feel disgusting.”

I turn onto my back, allowing myself to look at him. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I can’t help it.”

Rage flashes in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “He wasn’t the first, Francisco, and I don’t know that he’ll be the last.”

“He’ll be the last,” Frankie promises. His lips press against mine, his grip on my waist like a brand. I know he means it. He won't treat me that way because he’s nothing like the men I've dated in the past. Frankie will protect me from them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice choked with emotion as I reach up to wipe away the trail of fallen tears on my face. “I know you didn’t sign up for all this baggage. I know I need some serious therapy. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable enough to have sex with the lights on. And it's not you that makes me feel this way - it's all me. Knowing my body is on full display… I just can’t focus, be present in the moment.”

I sigh, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I speak the truth. The darkness of a room is comforting, a soothing balm against the anxieties that plague me. My skin prickles at the thought of being seen under harsh lights, every imperfection laid bare for scrutiny.

Silence stretches between us before he speaks again, his voice gentle but firm.

“You’re right. I didn’t sign up for baggage. I signed up for you, and if that means helping you sort through your shit, then so be it. We’ll work through it together.”

“And if I can’t work past it?”

Frankie slides his hand up and cups the side of my face. “I don’t care about the lights. If I have to move into a cave just to be able to fuck you whenever I want, I’ll do it. I’ll install dimmer switches in every damn room of the apartment so you can find the level of light you feel comfortable with. And, if you didn’t already know, I really fucking love lingerie.”

“Yeah?” I question, raising an eyebrow while I roll onto my side and lay on an elbow.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Just thinking about you in some little lace number is making me hard again.” He throws back his head and groans. “God, I’d come on sight.”

I giggle. I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t give me a little confidence boost.

“My point being…,” Frankie continues, looking at me again. “We can work together to find ways to make you comfortable.”

I melt at the thought that he’s already thinking about ways we can make this work, that he’s not pressuring me to do something that would make me uncomfortable for his pleasure. “Thank you for understanding, Frankie.”

He pulls me to him, and I rest my head between his collar and his jaw, my hand splaying out on his naked chest.

“I love you,” Frankie says, echoing the words he spoke early.

“I love you too.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got a lot of insecurities, too, you know.” His voice is quiet.

“Hm?” I question, rubbing my hand along his chest. “Like what?”

“Like the fact I can’t grow a facial hair for shit,” Frankie responds, sounding a bit grouchy about it. “It’s all patchy - like I’m a dog with mange or something.”

I can’t help the laughter that escapes my mouth, knowing he looks absolutely nothing like a mangey animal. I look up at him and cup his cheek, feeling his stubble prick my fingertips. “Are you serious? I think your patches are adorable. One of my favorite things about you.” I kiss the bare spot on the cheek closest to me.

He smiles. “And in case you didn’t notice, I have worse scars than a few stretch marks.”

“I have more than a few,” I point out. “Also, your scars are sexy. They’re proof of your bravery, your sacrifice, your honor. You should be proud of them.”

Frankie’s chest heaves as he scoffs. “Not all of them.” He falls silent for a moment, his gaze drifting away as if contemplating whether he should say more. And then, as if making up his mind, he gently takes my hand and guides my fingers to his left cheek. Beneath my fingertips, I can feel the roughness of scar tissue along his cheekbone, harder than the smooth skin that surrounds it. The warm touch of his skin sends shivers down my spine and I realize that I have noticed the scar there before but never questioned its appearance. It’s like an old friend who is always there but never talked about.

“I got this in a helicopter crash a few years ago – in Colombia.”

I can tell by the way he says the words, by the look on his face as he says them, that he hates remembering that time in his life.

“What happened?” I question, gently encouraging him to continue. To my surprise, he does, and it was unlike anything I’d ever expected.

Frankie tells me the whole story – how Santiago talked him and the others into conducting a reconnaissance of a Colombia drug kingpin’s compound on the pretext that they were aiding the government, then how they ended up deciding to raid the compound themselves, killing the narcos and leaving with the hundreds of millions of dollars hidden there. How Tom, who I've heard mention of before, became greedy and forced Frankie to take more money than their escape helicopter could carry, resulting in the crash. But he doesn’t end there. He tells me about the hostile cocaine farmers, about Tom’s death, the car chases and gunfights they endured transporting their friend’s body and whatever was left of the money back to his family.

A job that spiraled out of control into a mission from hell that cost lives.

“Jesus, Frankie…,” I utter when he finishes, shocked that he has been carrying the weight of that secret, but even more surprised that he felt comfortable enough to share that with me. “That… That’s a lot. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Frankie’s eyes are focused on the ceiling. He closes them, inhales deeply. “I’ll understand if you want to walk out the door and never come back. I won’t blame you.”

I lay my hand back on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at me, resting a large hand on top of mine. “Neither am I.”

I offer him a smile. “What happened in Colombia…it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do to survive. I hope you know that.”

Frankie nods, like he wants to believe me. “Anything bad that anyone has ever said about you or your body – it’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. And I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll spend every waking moment trying to make you believe that I need and love every inch of your body.”

My heart swells in my chest as he leans in and seals his promise with a kiss.

Frankie’s head turns, as if he can sense me watching him from across the room. The moment our eyes meet, his lips curl up in a mischievous grin. I smile back at him, unable to wrap my head around the fact that he has been mine for just over a year. A year filled with hurt and pain as we’ve dealt with our demons, far outweighed by all the laughter and love. A year where I finally understand what it means to be in a healthy relationship. A year where I’m finally starting to learn how to love myself – all thanks to the wonderful, patient, handsome man across the room.

I watch as he exchanges a few words with Benny before making his way toward me, patting his good friend on the shoulder with his beer-free hand as he passes him.

“You can’t just eye fuck me from across the room,” Frankie teases when he reaches me. “It’s Christmas, and there are children present.”

“Technically, it’s not Christmas,” you point out, the Miller brothers having gathered all their friends and family for a party the weekend before the holiday. “And unborn children don’t count,” I add, gesturing to Will’s girlfriend. “Which means I can eye fuck you all I want.” I gently jam a finger into his chest. “And don’t you dare act like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes all damn night.”

“Well, it isn’t a surprise that I want to unwrap you when you look like the most tempting damn gift under the tree.”

I giggle to myself then take a sip of wine. If he only knew that I'm internally begging him to remove my clothing when we get back home. He has no idea about what I have underneath my dress or the things I have in store for him – it’s been a year in the making.

“I didn’t know you have a fetish for nicely wrapped presents. Probably something you should explore in therapy,” I tease.

It’s no secret that we both have entered therapy in the last year, Frankie for his PTSD and me for my body image issues. It was time. Frankie has been nothing but patient and understanding of my insecurities—and our sex life certainly isn’t lacking thanks to creative positions, blindfolds, and Frankie’s obsession with lingerie—but I realized I couldn’t ignore my demons forever. There is more to life than worrying about my appearance. I’m ready to experience it…tonight. I feel just bold and confident to finally give all of myself to him.

He just doesn’t know it.

“I only have a fetish for you,” Frankie playfully replies.

“Ugh! So cheesy!” I groan, playfully rolling my eyes. “You really think you’re going to get me in bed tonight with a line like that?"

Frankie chuckles, but takes it as a challenge. “You know, I told Santa not to even bother with Christmas gifts this year – because you look better than any present I could ever hope to open.”

I laugh. “Cheesier. Want to go for three?”

“Alright.” Frankie takes a step closer to me, bending close to my ear so only I can hear. “I hope you’re ready for a not-so-silent night”-I bite down on my lip, hiding my smile, anticipating whatever ridiculous thing is about to come out of his mouth-“because when we get home, I’m going to fuck you so long and so hard that you’ll be hoarse from screaming my name.”

I gasp, my eyes going wide, wearing a combination of surprise and excitement on my face. My heartbeat is erratic.

Frankie smirks, knowing exactly what his words are doing to me.

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not going to let you get away with saying something like that in public.”

I feel the tip of his nose graze me, his lips moving closer to my ear.

“I’m counting on it,” he whispers, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

I turn my head to face him, and our eyes lock. I see the mischief and desire in his gaze, and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

“Think anyone will notice if we get out of here?” I question.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me out of the crowded house and onto the quiet street, leaving our drinks behind. The cool air hits us as we step outside, the night sky sparkling with stars above us. We walk in silence, the tension between us growing with each passing moment. Finally, he stops and pulls me close, his arms wrapping around my waist. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and I know I won't be able to resist him for much longer.

He leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and gentle at first, then growing more urgent and demanding. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and the passion between us ignites.

We stumble back against his truck, our bodies pressed tightly together. Frankie’s hands roam over my body, teasing and tantalizing me, and I can’t help but moan in pleasure, my skin tingling from his touch. The stubble along his jaw rubs my chin raw, but I hardly notice – I’m addicted to kissing him, and I want nothing more than to kiss and kiss and kiss for the rest of our lives. He tastes so good, and just the touch of his tongue against mine is enough to make my entire body tingle with lust. His erection presses into me, hot and throbbing even through the rough denim of his jeans, and I grind against him.

“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

I dip my head back and moan, thinking how hot it would be if he came in his jeans right here, right now.

“Don’t tempt me,” I say as I grab his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, making sure I brush against his cock one last time before we break apart. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go.”

Frankie groans, then opens up the door of his truck and helps me inside. I scoot across the bench seat, wanting to be as close to him as possible. The entire drive home, our bodies are pressed up against each other, his hand on my thigh, rubbing my skin. I want him so bad, and it’s all I can do to not rip his fucking clothes off and fuck him right here in the truck.

Frankie pulls into the driveway of our home, one I moved into just weeks after he bought this past summer, then cuts the ignition and switches off the headlights. He hops out then grabs my hand, leading me into the house, straight to the bedroom. As soon as we reach the room, he kisses me like he needs me more than air. I could spend eternity kissing this man, and it would never be enough. But I want to feel him, his skin on mine, his lips on my body. I break the kiss, breathing hard, my lips tingling.

Frankie watches me, his eyes fixed on my every movement. He swallows, his throat moving with the action. I kiss his stubbled cheek and move to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. I push his shirt off, then help him remove the t-shirt beneath it, staring at his muscular arms and bronze skin. I trail my fingers down his stomach, following the trail of hair that disappears beneath his jeans, helping him unbuckle his belt and push his pants down.

“Your turn,” he says.

Smirking, I turn my back to him. “Turn on the lights, then help me with my dress.” I brush my hair to the side, allowing him easier access to my zipper, then look over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. He stands there for a moment, as if trying to process what I just said.

I nod, letting him know it’s okay. “I trust you.”

My words force him to spring into action, flipping on the light and dimming it just enough to not be too bright and overstimulating. Then he steps behind me. His warm breath caresses my skin, his fingers nimbly lowering the zipper of my dress painfully slowly. He skims his fingers down my spine, making me come alive with sensation. My eyes flutter shut as he presses of series of tender kisses to my exposed skin.

Finally, my dress slides off me, leaving me in the satin and lace bustier set I had purchased especially for tonight, complete with garters holding up my stockings. I knew this set would drive him wild.

“Let me look at you,” Frankie says, helping me step out of the fabric pooled at my feet, then turning me towards him. He steps back, and I am suddenly feeling self-conscious as he devours me with his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he utters. He grips my hips, bringing me close to him, then falls to his knees. “Fuck, baby. Do you know what you do to me?” He plants a kiss to my covered stomach.

I smirk, reaching down to tip his chin up toward me. “How bad do you want me?”

He looks up at me, desire and need in his luminous eyes. “Bad. So fucking bad. I need you.”

I bite my lip, not quite ready to give myself to him yet. “You know, you never told me what you want for Christmas.”

“You,” he growls, planting a kiss on my thigh. “I only want you.”

“You can’t unwrap me,” I point out.

“I could. Will you let me?”

“It’s not Christmas,” I remind him, trying my best to sound stern.

“Baby, please, let me unwrap you.” He breathes heavily against my thigh while planting wet kisses, his hands gripping my hips. It’s clear he wants me desperately. How can I say no?

“Merry Christmas, Frankie,” I say, giving him all the permission he needs.

“Fuck yes.” He slowly runs his hands up my thighs, causing me to sway. Unhooking one of my stockings, he slides it down and kisses my thigh inch by inch, lifting my foot to slide my stiletto then stocking. He continues with the same action on the other leg, then places his hands on my hips. His fingers hook around the elastic of my panties and pulls them down, his eyes locked on mine as he does so.

When my panties join the floor, he is back at my center, his breath hot on my skin. I don’t dare move. Don’t dare say a word. I simply wait for his next move while reminding myself how to breath.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles.

“Wait. One more thing,” I manage to say, reaching back to unclasp my bra. I allow the final piece of my undergarments to fall to the floor, and, for the first time, I am completely on display for him to see.

Frankie looks up at me, his eyes dark. He is trembling with desire. “You’re perfect…but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

I blush, feeling self-conscious, but I’m not going to let my thoughts consume me. My body is worthy of love and respect as it is. Frankie is right: I am perfect.

“I want to. Now, fuck me with your mouth, Francisco.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My muddled brain screams as he gently runs the tip of his nose up my center. His grip strengthens on my hips, kneading my flesh beneath his fingers. Then his mouth meets my lower lips. A gentle, wet kiss. Then another and another. His tongue darts out and flatters against my seam as he slowly licks up my center. He hands cup my ass and tug me closer, bringing me to the center of his mouth, his tongue licking up my lips again, tasting me with unmatched hunger, flicking at the small bundle of nerves.

My breath escapes in small gasps. I can no longer think. My brain has shut down, only allowing me to feel, and he feels incredible.

“You taste so fucking good,” Frankie groans.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp out, gripping his head with both hands and rocking my hips toward his face. “It feels too fucking good.”

I buck against him, pushing his face harder and harder against me. His breath is hot as he moans into me, sending vibrations through my sensitive flesh. His stubble scrapes against my skin as he presses harder and harder into me. The tip of his nose nudges me, just beyond the hooded flesh. It’s too much and not enough. My orgasm refuses to crest over the edge, an elusive peak that lies just before I can feel happiness wash over me in a torrential wave of pleasure.

“Frankie,” I pant. “I need your cock.”

“No,” he growls, his eyes intense when he gazes up at me. He slips a finger inside me and watches as it slides in and out of me, thrusting through the hot wetness with practiced ease until I’m soaking wet with need for him.

“Please,” I beg, my frustration growing as the tension builds inside me, refusing to snap.

“I want you to come,” Frankie says, looking up at me. “You deserve it.”

“I-I can’t,” I admit, ready to throw in the white flag. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” he assures me. “You’re doing so well. You’re so close, but you’re holding back. I know this is scary for you, but you can do it. Just focus on what you feel. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Let go, baby, and I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

I nod, and Frankie dives back in, assaulting my clit while fucking me with his fingers. He swirls his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth and lightly biting down on the tiny nub. I cry out as waves of pleasure start to sweep over me. The heat between my legs is spreading, pooling outward until there's a tingling in my chest that makes me huff for breath before I moan.

“Frankie… I’m gonna… I…”

“Come on, baby… There it is…”

“Yes!”

My entire body tightens, stills, melts all at once. My fingers dig into his shoulder blades, scrabbling for purchase in case I fall over with the pleasure of it all.

I am completely unaware of my surroundings until I feel my back hit the bed, Frankie crawling up my body and spreading my legs with his knees. He kisses up my throat, stopping at my chin.

“How do you want it?”

“Ride you,” I breath. “I want to ride you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Frankie, please. Let me ride your cock.”

He nips my chin one last time. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

Frankie rolls off me then pulls himself up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. He holds out his hand and I take it, helping me climb on top of him so that I'm straddling his thighs. I push up on my knees and grip his cock, positioning it near my opening.

“Look down while you take it,” Frankie commands. “Watch as your beautiful pussy swallows my cock.”

I rest my hands on his shoulders for balance, then look down, my eyes locked on where our bodies join while slowly sinking down. Our skin is wet with sweat, and I can smell the sweet scene of my pussy and a hint of Frankie mixed in with the salt and musk. He fills me like our bodies are meant for one another. For a moment, I imagine that this is all either one of us will ever need; there is no doubt that we were made for each other, and we have more love for each other than most couples ever know.

Frankie’s groan echoes off the walls. “Fuck…” His head falls back against the headboard. He rests his hands on my hips and holds me there. “You’re killing me. You feel so good.”

“You sure you can handle me, Frankie?” I ask with a smirk, running a hand over his chest.

“Your pussy is like fucking magic.” He squeezes my hip with one hand then cups my breast with the other, like he wants to touch me everywhere all at once. “Let me see you ride me, baby. I want to watch you ride my cock.”

I stop torturing us both and work my hips in slow circles, adjusting to the feel and fullness of him. I look into his heavily lidded eyes, watching as he winces in ecstasy with every slow and sensual roll of my hips. He keeps his gaze on my face, never moving his attention as I ride his cock.

My gaze drops, landing on my body as it ripples and jiggles with the movement of my hips. The pleasure rises within me, but I am embarrassed at the sight of my own flesh moving to that rhythm. God, is this how he sees me? I want to hide. Would it be ridiculous to reach for the sheets and cover myself?

“Eyes on me, bebita.”

Immediately, my eyes meet his. His gaze burns into me as if nothing else matters, and I don't care about anything except him and how much he loves me, how good he makes me feel.

“You ride my cock so well and look amazing doing it. Think you can come on my cock?”

Heat pools inside me. I move faster, shamelessly grinding myself against him.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Take what you need from me.”

My nails score his skin as I ride him fast, like we’re in a race to the finish line. Breath rasping, teeth clenched, a wild determination fuels my movements.

“Take it, baby,” Frankie encourages, giving me all the power, making this all about my pleasure, my enjoyment. “Use me to get where you need to go.”

He presses a palm flat against my lower stomach. The extra pressure sends a sharp ribbon of euphoria spiraling through me. My movements grow erratic, and I babble absolute nonsense. All the tension inside me explodes, rippling and spreading to every nerve ending.

“Yes, baby. That’s my girl.” He drives himself up into me, brutal thrusts that draw out my own pleasure. He curses and thrusts again, once, twice, then his body stills. He groans, releasing inside me.

Frankie brushes my hair back, pulls my head to his, and captures my lips with his as my jumbled brain regains consciousness. After having his fill, he releases my lips and smiles at me.

“Hi.”

I return his smile. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, my smile widening. “Yeah. I-I did it.”

“You did it,” he echoes. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I move off him and lay beside him, tucked safely in his arms, not knowing what to say next. He pulls a sheet on top of us and we lay in silence for some time, enjoying the feel of the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

“I love you,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“I love you too.”

I nestle in closer to him, loving the way his voice rumbles though his chest to mine when we’re this close.

“What are you thinking?” I question, sensing that his mind is running a million miles a minute.

“About how I wasn’t lying when I said I only want you for Christmas. Nothing you can buy me will be better than the last year with you, and I want more. So much more.”

I hum, completely blissed out. “Me too.”

“Marry me then.”

I laugh, then move my head to look up at him. “I swear to God, Francisco, if this is another Christmas pun-”

“It’s not.” His face reflects his seriousness. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

I push myself up in bed, my mind reeling, wondering if I came so hard that I passed out and I’m dreaming.

“I was going to wait until Christmas morning,” he continues. “Had this whole thing planned out. But I can’t wait anymore.”

My mouth falls open, and I try to wrap my head around his words. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” Frankie reaches out, laying a hand on top of mine. “If I could have picked the woman I wanted to spend my life with, I never would have been able dream up you. You’re kind, beautiful, gorgeous, funny, you have a heart of gold, and most importantly, you love me for who I am despite my imperfections.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, seeming to watch the flickering emotions that must be passing across my face.

Emotion tears through his throat, causing his voice to become husky. “I love you, and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life reminding you just how beautiful and amazing you are. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night – always. Will you marry me?”

Tears course down my face as I shift to my knees and throw my arms around his neck. My lips meet his, giving him his answer. I’m insecure and hesitant about a lot of things in life, but there is not a single doubt in my mind about this.

I pull back, my hands cupping his neck. “Is this real? Like, really real?”

A small laugh escapes his lips before nodding. “It’s real. I have a ring. It’s hidden in the branches of the tree in the living room.”

My heart pounds with happiness. “I don’t need the ring. I only need you.”

A chuckle rumbles through him, and he kisses me with a greedy kind of joy that makes my toes curl. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes."

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theewokingdead · 2 months

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Soft girl dad Javi is the BEST 😍 Thanks for reading!

My Little Girl

Pairing: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Rating: No rating but my blog is 18+ only

Word Count: 700+

Summary: Javi breaks down and buys the pony his daughter has been absolutely begging him for.

Warnings: Full of fluff, may cause yearning. Please contact your doctor if your yearning lasts for more than 4 hours.

A/N: This started as a small thought and somehow became a fic. Enjoy the fluff.

Masterlist

“We’ll see, mija.”

It was the response Javi would give every time his daughter would ask for a pony of her own. She was relentless, and he was… well, he was Javi. He knows there really isn’t much of a reason to say no. She is anything but a stranger to the animal. The young girl regularly rides and tends to the horses on Chucho’s ranch alongside her father and abuelo.

“What’s one more?” you had questioned him the last time she asked.

He had given you some sort of vague response about how she wasn’t old enough, how she wasn’t ready for the responsibility of a pony of her own, how it would just be another mouth to feed. The multitude of reasonings grew only as you successfully countered them, making you wonder if he was just trying to convince himself it was a bad idea. Chucho had recently suggested that the girl is spoiled, and though he was joking, you wonder if it made Javi feel guilty.

“She deserves the world, cariño. I wish I could give it to her,” he once said to you.

“You are her world, Javi,” you had responded. “Just look at how she looks at you.”

He saw, which is why he can never say no. All it ever takes is one look with those big brown puppy dog eyes of her and he was wrapped around her finger – one of the few things that could melt through his stubbornness. Her eyes remind him so much of his own, yet they’re so different, still filled with innocence that hasn't yet been tarnished by the harsh realities of life. He would do anything to keep that from happening, anything to never see the sparkle fade to a duller version of their former selves, the light behind them stolen and replaced with a darkness no one should have to face alone, as he did for so many years.

Which is why he gets her the damn horse.

A glimpse of her eyes glistening with pure excitement and joy when they spot the horse, combined with excited shrieks and shrills, make it all worth it.

"Do you want help getting on?" he asks.

Confidently, the girl replies, "No. I can do it myself," causing Javi to take a step back, though his eyes never leave her, ready to swoop in the moment she starts to struggle too much.

It takes her a moment to get her boot in the stirrup, but she does it. However, she struggles once more while trying to get herself up, seeming not quite strong enough to get up and over the horse.

"Are you sure?" Javi asks. "Here, let me-" He takes a step forward, arms outstretched, ready to assist, as he has for so many years with the larger horses.

Without breaking focus, she adamantly exclaims, "No, papá! I can do it."

Javi turns and looks at you, hoping you'll step in and convince her that she needs help. Shrugging, a small smile on your face, you give him a look that says, "Stubborn like her father."

"Let her do it," you insist, to his dismay.

Finally, she manages to mount the horse all by herself, and once she’s settled, Javi instructs her on what to do, following closely as she commands the horse to move.

Eventually, Javi gives her space. He stands next to you, the two of you watching your daughter trot around like a pro, pride filling you both.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him wiping a tear away. Turning to look at him, you wonder what’s going on in that mind of his, unable to see his eyes, covered by the aviators on his face. Had this moment made him realize that she’s not so little anymore?

"She's getting big, isn't she?" you question, subtly noting that you’ve been watching him watch her.

He nods in response, showing he is listening, though his eyes remain locked on his little girl. "One day she won't need me anymore," he states simply, the thought killing him.

Your heart instantly melts.

"Oh, Jav,” you coo, looking at him softly. “You know that's not true.”

"Look at her,” he says, gesturing to the little girl, the perfect combination of the two of you. She’s hyper-focused on her task, commanding the horse like she was born to ride. “She doesn't even need me now."

"She'll always need you," you assure him. "A daughter always needs her father.”

He takes a deep breath, releasing some tension, then folds his arms. "I don’t care if she hates me for it, but she’ll always be my little girl.”

“She’ll love you for it. She already does.”

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theewokingdead · 3 months

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tender loving care | husband!joel miller x pregnant!reader

summary: pregnancy symptoms are tough. your husband finds ways to make them a bit more bearable.

warnings/tags: MDNI. established relationship. husband!joel. pregnant!reader. no outbreak. non-canon. depictions of discomfort/pain/complications due to pregnancy. brief mentioning of difficulty conceiving. fluff. sweet, domestic joel. use of “daddy,” but not in the kinky way. foul language. pet names. smut. dirty talk. boob massage! teasing. nipple play. some grinding. nipple orgasm. mastubation (m). cum play. joel loves readers stomach. pregnancy kink by default. no descriptions of age, race, or body type…except for reader being pregnant (duh), and some physical pregnancy symptoms. joel miller fucking loves his wife.

word count: 5k

a/n: i’ve never been pregnant in my life so excuse any inaccuracies bc there will be some!! big thanks to @kiwisbell for encouraging me to write this and coming up with the title bc i’m ass at that. also fun little game: take a shot every time you read ‘nipples,’ sorry bout it.

Eight months flew by in the blink of an eye.

It felt like only yesterday your entire world had changed over two, little pink lines. You didn’t think you could ever forget the all-encompassing joy you experienced that day; tear-filled eyes and tight embraces shared with the man you loved. Years of trying dwindled to a single, perfect moment. Because after some time, you had begun to lose hope. It didn’t always happen for people; maybe, it just wasn’t meant to happen for you.

“We ain’t gonna stop tryin’, you hear me? Not gonna give up that easily.”

He had been your rock through the entire process. The only tangible thing keeping you grounded while the earth felt as though it was slipping right from under your feet. Your anchor.

Your husband.

Your Joel.

And in the following months, he was no less attentive and devoted. He read every book, took you to every class and doctor’s appointment, and dealt with every absurd craving you requested. He handled the emotional highs and lows with ease, always a beacon of stability and comfort, even when the reality of your situation began to weigh on you. He praised your rapidly changing body, especially on the days you felt less than comfortable or beautiful in it. All the while continuing to work, provide for you and the life you were growing as if it were the most innate thing in the world.

His willingness to attend to you and your growing family became increasingly crucial during the final month of your pregnancy. Your obstetrician had strongly recommended bed rest due to high blood pressure levels, a complication she assured you could be managed with plenty of rest, water, and some dietary adjustments. You tried adamantly to not let the fear consume you, even with years of working towards your miracle in tow. So while Joel worked, and grocery shopped, and tended to the house and garden, and cooked, and cleaned, you spent most of your days in bed or on the couch trying not to go absolutely insane.

As if you didn’t already feel useless in your life and marriage. As if you weren’t already spending every waking moment worrying about the chance of losing your baby over something entirely out of your control. Breathing exercises. Meditation. Warm baths. You followed every method to reduce stress as it was, doctor’s quote, imperative to you and the health of your baby.

But some days were harder than others. And some symptoms weren’t as easy to bear.

One evening, you found yourself on the couch clicking through the television channels after one of your dozen labor and delivery books had terrified you to the point of needing a break. A palate cleanser. Something to take your mind off the way your body ached in seemingly every crack and crevice, and the anxiety that resided in the pit of your stomach over your approaching due date.

It was not for lack of excitement, of course. You couldn’t wait to hold your baby in your arms. To begin this new chapter of life with the two people you undoubtedly loved most in the world. But there was fear in the unknown; you had never given birth before, and books and educational videos could only prepare you to a certain extent. You often doubted yourself, your body, and what it was capable of. How much you could really endure.

No, you scolded yourself. Now is not the time to spiral.

You carefully propped your swollen feet up on the coffee table in front of you, pulling the wool blanket your mother had knitted for you as a baby shower gift over your legs. Joel was working late, which meant you were left to your own erratic devices. You settled the TV on the Hallmark channel; perhaps a rookie mistake given your emotional state, but a welcomed distraction from the way every muscle in your body seemed to throb upon any given movement. You tried to situate yourself in a single position, but found the task nearly impossible, leaving you to squirm mere centimeters every which way trying to find the perfect spot on the cushions. Either your back was sore, or your bladder was suffocated. Your neck was craned, or your legs were extending too far to reach the table comfortably.

You let out an exasperated groan, sinking back into the cushions defeatedly, succumbing to the discomfort. Your eyes darted down to your belly, a bit of stretched skin protruding out between the hem of Joel’s t-shirt you wore and the blanket. You settled your hands on either side of your stomach.

“Not even here yet, and already giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” you asked. Not even a moment later, you felt a familiar churn in your gut, followed by bumps of tiny limbs against your hands. A smile lit up your face. You remembered how odd the sensation was when you felt it for the first time weeks prior; now, you looked forward to it.

“It’s okay,” you continued, giving your stomach a few soothing rubs, knowing soon enough, you would be directing all of your comfort to something much more delicate. “You know I forgive you.”

The sound of the door unlocking tore your focus. You didn’t trust yourself to move, somewhat satisfied in the position you were in. But you heard the familiar sound of boots being kicked off, followed by keys tossed into the bowl on the front table.

“Hello?” Joel called, the deep timbre of his rich drawl echoing through the foyer and into the living room.

“In here!” you yelled back, the sound of approaching footsteps following seconds later.

Joel rounded the couch, and when his tired eyes met yours, you watched the creases in the corners deepen when he smiled down at you. You beamed back at him, a sense of relief and security washing over you at the sight of your husband. Disheveled, graying curls. Gentle, brown eyes. Full, loving lips that you couldn’t wait a moment longer to kiss. He didn’t keep you in suspense long, merely taking a moment to breathe in the sight of you, before he lowered himself onto the couch beside you with a fatigued grunt. He slung one arm across your shoulders, the other hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw.

“Hi baby,” he said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You savored the feeling and the musky scent of him after a hard days work.

“Hi,” you whispered when he pulled back, nose still nudging against yours, while his thumb caressed circles over the apple of your cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“M’glad to be home,” he admitted, filling you with adoration as he so often did. He released your jaw then, trailing his fingers down to your swollen belly and tenderly running his hand over it. “And hello to my other baby,” he mused, leaning down to press a kiss just above your belly button. The sight alone could have made you cry if you hadn’t been so used to the practice as routine now. Seldom was there a time that he did not greet the both of you; still two separate entities to him, although you were wrapped up in one.

It was endearing, exciting to see him like this. You thought this was what made the pain, the discomfort, the waiting, all worthwhile. Even though it took far too long to reach your goal, and the finish line still looked to be miles away, Joel was a constant reward. Everything you could ask for in a man, in a partner.

“How you feelin’?” he asked, his face still lingering close to your belly.

But before you could even answer him, a sharp pang shot through your chest, straight into your breasts. This was your newest symptom, having snuck up on you in the last trimester. As if your boobs looking and feeling as though they could explode with how full they had gotten wasn’t enough. It was as if your body could hear your momentary thoughts of gratefulness and decided to taunt you.

“Sore,” you hissed, grinding your teeth together. “Everywhere.”

Joel tsked his tongue down at your stomach. “Now, you listen here little one,” he said, feigning sternness. “You know daddy loves you, but you gotta stop givin’ mama such a hard time.”

“Why do I feel like this is only the beginning?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

Joel chuckled. “Well, if she’s anything like you, darlin’, she’s sure as hell gonna have an attitude.”

You immediately propped your head back up. “She?” you asked, raising your brows at him. You two had decided to wait until delivery to find out the sex of the baby, something small that made the anticipation all the more exciting.

He shrugged, a hint of embarrassment painting his cheeks pink as if he hadn’t meant to say the thought aloud. “S’just a hunch,” he mumbled, delicately rubbing his palm across the expanse of your belly again. “Be happy with anythin’, just… always picture a little girl.”

And for a moment, the ache that lingered in your chest swelled deep down, radiating from your heart. An adoring smile broke out on your face as you watched him, eyes already back on your belly, lips casually planting little kisses on exposed skin whenever he pleased. Delicate hands that touched you with greater affection than any person you had ever known.

God, you loved him. More than life itself. So much it hurt, wondering how you had ever become so lucky.

“You’re gonna be such a good daddy,” you told him softly, lifting a hand to the nape of his neck and soothing the skin there with your fingers. Joel hummed contentedly in response, seemingly too enamored with your stomach to shift focus. But it wasn’t long before you were startling him to attention, another unprompted sting through your breasts making you flinch.

“My God,” you groaned, reaching up to cup the underside of them, the pressure providing a momentary relief. This time, the pain lingered; a heaviness and fullness that bordered too tender to touch. Body in constant conflict with itself.

Joel’s head perked up from your abdomen, brows pulled in concern. “What is it?” he asked, searching your face before following the movement of your hands that began to gently knead over the front of your shirt.

“My boobs are fucking killing me,” you told him honestly, causing him to chuckle. Your husband was no stranger to your blunt mouth even before he got you pregnant. The vulgarity only increased upon your hormones fluctuating with the hour, but he never seemed to mind. You got the impression it may have even amused him.

“Feel better when you rub ‘em?” he asked.

You pouted at him, the feeling of defeat inescapable. “A little, yeah,” you said.

“Here, let me.”

You didn’t protest, allowing him to help your feet off the coffee table and remove the blanket from your legs so he could kneel on the floor before you. He wedged his torso between your thighs, the bump of your belly snug against his chest. His hands reached up to cover yours, dwarfing them in the way that never ceased to make you feel safe, protected. You slipped yours out from underneath, resting them on either side of your stomach as he took the whole of each breast into his hands. You exhaled deeply, letting your head fall back against the cushions as he began to gently massage the supple flesh.

“This too hard?” he asked after a moment of silence, save for your soft sighs and the hum of the TV still running in the background.

“No,” you breathed, basking in the reprieve of his touch. His care. His love. “No, it's perfect.” The vulnerable state of your body was compliant, trusting with every fiber of your being that he would take care of it, tend to it to the best of his ability.

You let your eyes close briefly, focusing on the careful attention he bathed you in. He alternated between broad strokes, painting the perimeter of each breast with firm pressure, and gentle kneading that had you humming in satisfaction. There was nothing quite like Joel’s hands; reliable, strong, putting you back together piece by piece no matter where they touched you. Always knowing how to touch you, taking their time to discover the uncharted terrain and what made it blossom, what made you tick. You thought that must have been the case when his fingers went rogue, thumbs carelessly strumming over your sensitive nipples.

You gasped at the unexpected sensation, electricity prickling your skin. You lifted your head, peering down at Joel with parted lips and wide eyes. He was already looking up at you, a slight arch to his brow while he assessed the sudden reaction. With no protest to be found, he executed the motion again, this time with a bit more pressure.

The contact shot straight to your core, eliciting a small whine as your nipples grew taut below his thumbs. Swollen, aching, and unbearably sensitive– to anything other than your husband's touch, it seemed. A knowing grin spread over Joel’s cheeks.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he questioned, the teasing drop to his tone just as adequate in rousing you as his hands were. Now, every time he squeezed your breasts, he circled the pad of his fingers over each hardened bud, admiring the way your hips began to jerk forward in response. The spot between your legs began to ache just as adamantly as the rest of you, only now, you knew exactly the remedy.

“Joel,” you moaned softly after a few more tight, tantalizing flicks. Even through your t-shirt, the rough callouses on his thumbs gifted you with tiny jolts of pleasure, an invisible tremor radiating through your body, connecting his fingers to your cunt that began to clench with every stroke.

You saw the shift in his eyes; loving, doting husband so easily replaced by the hunger he had for pleasing you. Especially when he knew you needed to be satiated. Could sense the want that erupted effortlessly under his ministrations.

You two had stopped having sex around the seven-month mark, as engaging in the act became more of a nuisance than an enjoyable experience for you. Another irritating symptom. Joel didn’t mind stopping in the slightest. What he did mind, however, was the lack of physical attention he was able to give his wife. Something he prided himself in, providing you the pleasure he insisted you deserved.

He got creative, nonetheless. Spending hours between your thighs, lavishing you with his tongue. Putting his deliciously thick fingers to work. Even investing in a few toys, something you widely appreciated during both your time together and when he was away. He was enraptured by the way your body responded to him nowadays, sensitive and overly reactive to each and every touch. Taking the time to discover what worked and what didn’t.

And it appeared this occasion was to be no different.

Wordlessly, Joel’s hands abandoned you, and you made no effort to hide your huff of frustration at the loss. This only widened his grin, the little craters you adored showing up on his cheeks.

“So impatient,” he chastised, to which you rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to make some comment regarding your current physical state, and how it required no patience, but his hands were back on you before you had a chance. This time, fingers slipped under the hem of the t-shirt and guided it up and over your belly. You watched him carefully in anticipation.

“Arms up,” he said when the shirt bunched below your breasts. And who were you to deny such a request? Wasting no time in lifting your arms over you while he pulled your shirt over your head.

You weren’t wearing a bra — you gave up on those a long time ago — warm skin succumbing to the cool air, already tight nipples growing little goosebumps around the perimeter. You used to feel more self-conscious; stretch marks across your chest as it grew with the rest of you, areolas a shade or two darker than they once were, and certainly less perky. But you didn’t hold on to those ideas for long. Not when you had Joel. Ever loving, praising every inch of you no matter how drastically you changed. Such changes significantly unimportant and minuscule compared to the task of growing life inside of you.

He never failed to find ways to remind you of your beauty. Even if you couldn’t see it, providing you with a vivid picture of life through his eyes.

The next time he touched you, he was brushing the backs of his knuckles ever so slightly across your exposed nipples. Your hands dug into the cushions below you, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. Little jolts of pleasure shot through each peak, hardly able to handle his teasing touch.

“And so sensitive,” he mused, taking another pass of his knuckles over you. Rough skin caught on tender, pebbled flesh, finding a delicate rhythm; back and forth, not too fast, just enough to have you heaving for more.

The invisible string running down your midline grew tighter until he was switching tactics, turning over his hands to take each nipple delicately between his thumb and pointer finger, tweaking them over and over again. Not too fast, or too hard, just right.

You were starting to whine, hips jerking forward nearly uncontrollably now. You felt your clit twitch below your sweatpants with every thrust, a stream of slick arousal pooling in your panties. Joel had always been a maestro in stimulating your body, but you couldn’t recall ever feeling this turned on by something so simple. A familiar heat that usually only arose when you were near the edge of control settled in your lower stomach.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stammered as you watched him lean forward, resting his chin atop your belly, and guiding one of your breasts towards his hot mouth. He never broke eye contact as his lips parted, wrapping around the awaiting nipple, already hard and raw, and gingerly sucking between his teeth. His tongue began to lap lazily over the stiff bud, his free hand still preoccupied with the other— pinching, tweaking, and flicking any which way that set your body alight.

“Like that?” he muttered into your skin, a momentary cessation just to catch his breath before he was diving back in, repeating the torment to the other side.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “Mhm,” you breathed, unable to find the right words to tell him just how much you liked it. Perhaps even a bit embarrassed to admit it.

Your hands abandoned the cushions, finding his head and weaving your fingers through the graying curls. Keeping him close, right where you needed him. The friction between your body intensified once you felt the unmistakable outline of his erection between your thighs; this lewd display, hardly even having to lift a finger while your husband devoted himself to pleasing you, turned him on. Made him ache, too. The idea alone could have driven you over the edge.

Then, he was using both generous hands to push your breasts together, leaving little space between them to swivel his tongue swiftly from each peak to the other. His hooded eyes peered up at you, tongue out, drool dripping down his chin and onto your skin, appearing like a goddamn beast in heat. Desperate for his fix.

“God, Joel,” you whined again, finding that his name was one of the only words you could muster. Your knuckles grew stiff, clutching onto his hair with a new ferocity as your pelvis began to chase the length in his jeans. The subtle grinding of your clothed cunt against him accelerated the thrilling build-up, the dull warmth in your lower tummy growing into a wildfire that descended through your core and trembling thighs.

“Christ, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, words muffled as he refused to detach his lips from your nipples. He must have noticed the way your eyes began to roll back into your skull, the pathetic way you clung onto him, even rolling your chest to the rhythm of his tongue. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come just from me playin’ with these pretty tits, huh?”

It was all too much, too overwhelming, overstimulating. Your body didn’t know where to bend nor break, having no choice but to give in to the momentum Joel was effortlessly building. And when the thread snapped, you had the brief feeling of falling. Unsure if what you were feeling was what he asked of you, but it swarmed like warm water. Starting deep in your gut and spreading throughout your limbs that clenched around his hips and shoulders, body seizing and lips parting in a wail of euphoria.

Your untouched cunt clenched rapidly, leaking into your panties as you came, little bolts of lightening hot energy shot through your nipples still being lapped in Joel’s attention. Your shoulders hunched over his head, battered buds growing sore with overstimulation, but you wanted to ride the high. Feel every ounce of wave wash over you until your toes were curling and your tits were begging for a new type of relief.

“Ahh, oh my god. Yes. Okay, okay fuck,” you heaved, hands now working to pull him away. Joel unlatched his lips from your skin obediently, releasing the fullness of your breasts from his paws. His hands found the sides of your belly again, holding your quivering body still while he left a path of sweltering hot kisses along your sternum to your pulse point. He grazed his teeth over the spot, nibbling gently.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he mused into your neck. You could practically hear the cheeky spread of his lips.

You chuckled, still breathless. “Yeah, neither did I. Fuck,” you shivered, jerking back every time his chest brushed up against yours.

Joel hummed pleasantly, pressing a final kiss below your ear before he retracted back from you. You saw him reach for the t-shirt discarded on the other side of the couch but grabbed at his wrist before he could pick it up.

“Wait,” you said, the cloud of lust still hanging over you. You weren’t ready for the moment to end. “I wanna do something for you.” You kept your voice light, meager. Somewhat petulant. Hoping that with enough sweetness, he wouldn’t be stubborn enough to deny you. It was not as if you couldn’t feel the way he still strained against his jeans.

Joel sighed, tilting his head at you with a knowing look. Equally scolding and sympathetic. “You know I don’t want ya movin’ around too much, the doctor said—”

“Who said I have to move?” you interrupted, arching a devious brow at him. He furrowed his in return. “Maybe… I just wanna watch.”

A mere breath, brief and dumbfounded while the suggestion sunk in. Then, a brazen grin crept its way onto his face, and he chuckled lowly in his chest. “Oh, baby,” Joel purred, shaking his head at you, unable to mute his delight at your proposition, and you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it sooner.

You loved this. Being so certain that, despite your current state, you could still excite your husband as diligently as he did you. That he craved you, needed you for any semblance of release.

Slowly, Joel lifted himself from his knees to his feet. Your neck craned back to accommodate the size of him standing before you, a practiced hand undoing his belt and unzipping the front of his jeans. You watched in sheer fascination, hazy eyes and a blissed-out little smile that you tried to bite back, as he shucked his jeans a few inches down his thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight of his gray boxers tented and stained through— all from the sight of you coming undone. His eyes never left you as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers, pulling them down towards his jeans, his heated cock jumping free. The reddened tip hit just below his belly button; glistening, begging for attention.

You had half a mind to reach out, take his girth between your hands, and guide him into your mouth. You would find some way to accommodate yourself; a pillow under your knees, or perhaps on your side across his lap. But Joel wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t put you through the effort just for his pleasure. You had tried, and failed, to argue with the logic time and time again.

Instead, you let him come to you. He hunched forward over you, one hand stabilizing himself on the arm of the couch, while the other came first to his lips, generously spitting into his palm, and then to grip himself at the base, sighing at the contact. His balls were already taut, cock throbbing. Your lips hung open in pure starvation, encouraging him to give himself over to you.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice low and hoarse as he began to slowly pump himself into his fist. You moaned a little sound of desperation at the picture. “Ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he warned you. “Where do you want me?”

You considered his question. The twinge of power excited you, and you found that the answer came easy; perhaps raunchy to the outside eye, but it felt nothing if not natural.

You dragged one of your hands up and over your swollen stomach; slowly, sultry as you circled it, batting devious eyes up at him. “Want you right here,” you told him, watching his shroud of control begin to falter. Written plainly, desperately across his face. The muscle in his jaw twitched where his teeth ground hard.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fist working over his silken shaft a bit faster now, intentional. His eyes were abysmal, blown black and desperately searching yours as a sheen layer of sweat covered his brow. “S’what you want, darlin’? Want me to paint that pretty fuckin’ belly of yours?”

You nodded at him eagerly, spurring him on. Inviting in and accepting the depravity, passion, and lust that clung to the atmosphere. You two wouldn’t be able to indulge in it as freely much longer.

You brought your own hands back to your breasts, squeezing over his diligent work, and moaning softly when your fingers pinched your battered nipples. An added touch. Joel’s hawk eyes followed every movement, devouring you. His lower abdomen clenched and his fist pumped himself ardently until he was cursing a string of fuckfuckfucks, squeezing his eyes shut, face contorted in euphoric bliss. He closed further in on you, close enough so that the tip of his cock nudged the bare skin above your belly button while he fulfilled his promise. Painting you in thick, white release, the primal sounds resonating in his chest while he came a sweet symphony to your ears.

Some splattered onto your boobs, even a bit on your chin. It was bizarre how long it had taken to get you pregnant considering the absolute mass of Joel’s orgasms. But the majority of his pearly cum dripped over your stomach, coating your skin in a familiar warmth; the same seed that graced you with the gift inside of you.

His ragged breaths began to slow, but you took it upon yourself to drag out your little show just a while longer. And he watched, just as greedy, while you ran your fingers over your stomach once more, collecting his spend onto the digits. You made sure he was looking you in the eyes when you brought your fingers to your mouth, pushing them knuckles deep and wrapping your lips around them. He stared at you with what you could only decipher as awestruck pride.

“You… are an extraordinary woman,” he said, breathless. The proudest grin plastered across his face— perhaps even a bit smug. You just shook your head laughing, smacking your lips as you pulled your fingers from your mouth and savored the salty taste of him. He leaned forward, capturing your damp lips in a lingering kiss before pressing his forehead to yours. “Stay here. Gonna run us a bath.” He gave you one last peck on your cheek before straightening up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, and heading towards the bathroom.

You watched him go before leaning back into the cushions, content and satisfied, albeit rather sticky and sweaty. Gone were the aches and pains of a day without Joel, replaced solely with his fondness for you. You stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply, and attempting to picture what life would look like in just four short weeks. How the love you shared for each other could possibly grow any larger; it would fill every corner in the room, you thought. It would dominate every waking moment, and inhabit each rapturous dream. In the moments when you freed yourself of your worries and doubts, that was what you held onto. How simple yet substantial the things around you were:

A warm, sturdy house.

A fridge full of food.

Kind, helpful neighbors.

A family who would drop anything and everything to help you.

A husband who cherished you.

You couldn’t stop the errant tears, no matter how frivolous, from pooling at your waterline. You laughed quietly to yourself, lifting your head back up and using the backs of your hands to wipe them away as they cascaded down your cheeks. Happy tears. Excited tears. Nervous tears and tears for the sake of tears all wrapped into one. A beautiful, daunting array of emotions that you would tend to over and over if it meant having the life you were lucky enough to live with the man you were lucky enough to love.

Your eyes fell back to your stomach, the sight of it full and large, home and life-source to your baby, only fueling your fragility. But for a moment, as brief as it may have been, you couldn’t even remember a life before all of this.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” you whispered.

And you were surely looking forward to the life after.