#alejandro vargas cod

Alejandro had been up before you, as he always was before a mission. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and you could hear the faint clink of his belt buckle from down the hall.

He was meticulous in moments like this, double-checking every weapon, every strap, as if perfection could guarantee he’d come home safely.

You stayed in bed for a few minutes, staring at the space beside you. His side of the bed was still warm.

When you finally gathered the courage to step out, you found him standing by the kitchen counter.

His uniform was perfectly pressed, his expression unreadable until his eyes found yours.

“Buenos días, mi vida,” he greeted softly. His voice carried warmth, but you heard the fatigue under it, the heaviness that came with goodbyes too often repeated.

You walked over, barefoot on the cool tiles, and wrapped your arms around his waist.

He immediately pulled you closer, his chin resting on top of your head. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

“Do you know where they’re sending you?” you finally asked, voice muffled against his chest.

“Can’t say,” he murmured. “You know how it is. Just a few weeks. I’ll be home before you know it.”

You laughed quietly, though it didn’t sound real.

“You always say that.”

Alejandro smiled, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt.

“And I always come home, don’t I?”

He tilted your chin up, pressing a slow kiss to your lips, one that tasted like coffee, like longing, like the thousand unsaid things you wanted to tell him but couldn’t.

When he finally pulled away, his hand lingered against your cheek.

“I’ll message you as soon as I can,” he promised. “If I can’t, just know I’m thinking of you. Always.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He kissed you again before shouldering his bag and walking to the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back once more.

“Keep the bed warm for me, cariño,” he said with a small smile.

You managed a small laugh.

“Always.”

The door shut behind him with a quiet click that felt like an earthquake.

You stood there for a long time, staring at the space he left behind, the silence pressing against your chest until it hurt.

Then, finally, you whispered.

“Come back to me.”

And somewhere miles away, as the helicopter lifted into the sky, Alejandro Vargas closed his eyes and silently made the same promise.

---

It all started as nothing more than exhaustion.

A dull ache that sat at the back of your head, the kind that coffee and sleep couldn’t fix. You told yourself it was the quiet, that Alejandro’s absence had left too much space in the house, too much stillness pressing down on you.

The days went by, marked by the hum of the ceiling fan and the echo of his voice in old voicemails.

You kept busy, cleaning rooms that didn’t need cleaning, making food you didn’t finish.

Anything to fill the silence.

Then the nausea began.

Soft at first, a faint unease that rose in the mornings.

But when it stayed, when it followed you into the afternoon and lingered at night, you couldn’t ignore it.

You sat on the bathroom floor one evening, the tiles cool under your legs, a small white test in your trembling hands.

The minutes felt long.

When the result appeared, two faint pink lines stared back at you.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Then you let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t expected.

But somehow, it made sense, as if the universe had decided to give you a piece of him while he was gone.

You spent hours sitting on the edge of the tub, hands over your stomach, whispering to no one and to everything.

“Hey there, little one. It’s just us for now.”

That night, you lay in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, your fingers absently tracing patterns on your stomach.

You imagined Alejandro’s reaction, the way his eyes would widen, the bright, boyish grin that would follow.

You could almost hear him, his voice low and full of wonder.

Mi vida… we’re having a baby?

You laughed quietly at the thought, though tears still clung to your lashes.

Days turned into weeks.

You booked an appointment, sitting in the sterile white room as the doctor smiled kindly and confirmed what you already knew. You were nearly two months along.

The sound of the tiny heartbeat on the monitor filled the room, rapid, strong, real.

You cried again, this time with your hand pressed over your mouth, overwhelmed by how something so small could already feel like everything.

At home, you began keeping a journal.

A habit you picked up from Alejandro when he’d jot notes from the field.

Each night, you wrote a little entry, small messages he would one day read.

Day 67. I found out today that you love bananas. I can’t even look at one without wanting to eat it.

Day 95. I started knitting something. Don’t laugh. It’s meant to be a blanket, but it looks like a scarf gone wrong. I’ll get better.

The bump began to show slowly, soft at first, barely visible in the mirror. But by the time your third month rolled in, there was no denying it. You stood in the bathroom, hands resting on the gentle curve, and whispered.

“You’ve got his spirit, I can feel it.”

Sometimes, when the night grew heavy, you sat on the porch wrapped in one of Alejandro’s shirts, looking out at the stars.

You told your baby stories about the father they hadn’t met yet.

About the way he laughed, the way he always held you like you were something precious.

You didn’t know when he’d return, or if he’d even know. But you believed in him. You had to.

And somewhere, across the world, Alejandro Vargas was thinking of you too, a photo of you tucked into his vest pocket, the corner worn from how often he’d touch it.

Neither of you knew it yet, but that tiny heartbeat had already become his reason to fight harder than ever before.

Time had a strange way of folding in on itself.

Some days felt endless, while others slipped through your fingers like water.

By the third month, the house no longer felt painfully empty, just… quieter. You learned to live around the silence.

The morning coffee was still brewed, and the bed was still made on his side, untouched.

You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep diagonally across it, that was his space.

Every week, you sat at the dining table, a cup of tea cooling beside you, and wrote him a letter.

They always began the same way:

Mi amor,

It’s been another week without you. I miss you, but I’m proud of you. I hope wherever you are, the stars are kind to you tonight.

Some letters were long, filling pages with rambling stories about your day, the baby kicking for the first time, the nursery colours you couldn’t decide on, the time the power went out, and you had to fix the fuse yourself. Others were short, written between episodes of tears and laughter.

But you never sent them.

You stacked them neatly in the drawer of your bedside table, tied with a red ribbon.

You told yourself that one day, when he came back, you’ll hand them to him, one by one, and let him read every word you couldn’t say out loud.

Your belly grew, round and perfect, under your hands.

You could feel little flutters now, the gentle movements that made you laugh through tears.

“That’s your papa,” you whispered. “He’ll come home soon.”

You started nesting without meaning to.

Alejandro’s spare room turned into the nursery.

You painted the walls a soft, warm beige, something that felt like sunlight. A small cot arrived one morning, and you spent the afternoon assembling it, humming to yourself, pretending you didn’t feel the ache in your chest every time you thought of him helping you.

When you went to your next appointment, the doctor smiled at how healthy the baby was.

You held the ultrasound picture close, tracing the outline of the tiny form with your thumb.

Another secret to tuck away, another moment to share later.

Nights were the hardest.

You lie on your side, one hand resting over the curve of your stomach, whispering softly into the dark.

“You’ll love him. He’s brave, and kind, and he has this laugh that makes you feel safe. He always keeps his promises, so I know he’ll come back to us.”

The wind would sigh through the trees outside, and for a heartbeat, you could almost imagine you heard his voice again, telling you te amo the way he always did.

The months went by in this rhythm, letters, doctor visits, soft nights spent dreaming of him.

Your belly grew, your body changed, and your heart made room for two kinds of love, one for the man you married, and one for the tiny life that waited to meet him.

Then one morning, as the winter air changed into spring, you sat on the porch, sunlight spilling across your lap.

You opened a fresh notebook and began a new letter.

My love,

You’ve been gone for six months now. I think the baby can hear my heart when I talk about you. Sometimes, when I say your name, they move, as if they already know you. You’d laugh if you saw me now, waddling more than walking. But I’m happy, mi vida. Because I know every day that passes is one closer to you coming home.

You folded the letter, kissed it once, and placed it in the drawer with the rest.

And somewhere far away, Alejandro Vargas wiped the sweat and dust from his face as his transport prepared to depart.

He looked down at a worn photograph of you, smiled softly, and murmured,

“Almost home, mi amor.”

The rain had begun sometime after midnight.

Soft at first, then heavier, tapping against the windows in a rhythm that usually soothed you. But tonight, you slept deeply, exhaustion heavy after another long day.

You didn’t hear the truck pull up outside. You didn’t hear the crunch of boots on the gravel path, or the quiet click of a key sliding into the lock.

The door opened.

Alejandro stepped inside, soaked to the bone, mud streaked up his fatigues.

He shut the door quietly behind him, his breath catching in his throat as he looked around. Everything looked the same, your shoes by the mat, your favourite blanket on the couch, the small lamp casting a soft amber glow across the living room.

The air smelled faintly of chamomile and something sweet he couldn’t name.

He stood there for a long moment, shoulders shaking, as if the house itself might disappear if he blinked.

Then he moved.

He passed through the hall, eyes catching on the framed photos, your wedding day, the beach trip, the one where you’d laughed so hard he hadn’t even been able to take the picture properly.

He touched the frame lightly, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.

When he reached the bedroom door, he hesitated.

The light was still on, dim and golden. He pushed it open gently.

You were there.

Curled on your side, tangled in the sheets, hair fanned out across the pillow. One hand rested protectively over your rounded stomach beneath the blanket.

For a second, Alejandro thought the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He stepped closer, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.

The realisation came all at once, the gentle rise of your belly, the soft glow in your face even in sleep, the peacefulness he hadn’t seen in months.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed. His hands shaking as he reached for you, as if afraid to wake you.

Your lashes fluttered.

You stirred with a soft hum, half asleep. Without opening your eyes, you found his hand, warm and calloused, and placed it over the swell of your belly.

“Daddy’s home,” you mumbled, smiling faintly in your drowsiness.

The words hit him like a wave.

Alejandro froze. His breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. “What…?” he whispered, voice trembling.

You stirred again, eyes opening slowly, still hazy from sleep.

And then you suddenly realised.

“Alejandro?”

He couldn’t speak.

He just looked at you, eyes glistening, and then at where his hand rested. He pulled the blanket down with shaking fingers, lifted the hem of your shirt. His palm spread across the curve of your stomach, reverent and disbelieving.

“Mi vida…” he breathed, his voice breaking. “You’re…?”

You nodded, laughing through tears.

“You’re going to be a father.”

He exhaled sharply, a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. Then he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to your belly. His hands shaking as he held you, whispering something in Spanish you could barely hear, prayers, thanks, promises.

You ran your fingers through his rain-damp hair, your heart aching with love.

“I wanted to tell you,” you whispered. “But there was no way. So I waited.”

He looked up at you, his eyes wet, his smile trembling.

“You waited for me.”

“Always.”

Alejandro climbed into bed beside you, pulling you gently into his arms, his hand never leaving your stomach.

You could feel his breath against your neck, the warmth of him, real and solid after all those lonely months.

“I missed so much,” he murmured.

“You’re here now,” you said softly. “That’s what matters.”

He kissed you then, slow, deep, full of everything he hadn’t said for half a year.

When he pulled back, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, then to your belly.

“Hola, mi pequeño,” he whispered against your skin. “It’s your papa. I’m home.”

You smiled through tears, your fingers tracing the side of his face.

“We missed you so much.”

He looked at you and for the first time in months, he felt peace settle over him like sunlight after a storm.

Outside, the rain eased to a soft drizzle.

Inside, in the warmth of your home, Alejandro Vargas held his world in his arms.

---

Morning came slowly.

The rain had stopped during the night, leaving the air washed clean and cool. Sunlight spilt through the curtains, thin and gold, painting lazy streaks across the sheets.

You stirred first, feeling the warmth beside you, the steady rise and fall of a familiar chest.

For a brief, sleepy moment, you thought you were still dreaming.

That the weight of an arm draped across your middle, the faint sound of steady breathing against your ear, couldn’t possibly be real.

But then you felt his thumb trace idle circles over your stomach, and your heart fluttered.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

Alejandro made a small sound of contentment before answering, his voice rough and low.

“Buenos días, mi vida.”

You turned in his arms. The sight made you smile, his hair was still slightly damp from the night before, his stubble rough against your cheek, his eyes soft and tired but full of peace. For the first time in months, he looked rested.

“I thought I was dreaming,” you whispered.

He smiled.

“I thought I’d lost this,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “The smell of the house. The sound of your voice. I kept thinking about it out there.”

You took his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“You came home.”

“I came home,” he echoed quietly, as if saying it would make it real. His gaze dropped to your stomach, where his hand still rested. “Both of you waited for me.”

You nodded, a small laugh escaping you.

“He or she, didn’t really have a choice. I, however, did.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and fond.

“You’re brave,” he said softly. “Braver than me.”

You shook your head.

“You fight wars, Alejandro. You’re the brave one.”

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

“No. I fight for you. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

Then you felt a small kick underneath his hand.

Alejandro froze, then laughed.

"Was that...?”

“They know you’re here.”

He kissed you again, deeper, one hand still splayed across your stomach as if to reassure himself that this was real.

When he pulled away, his expression softened.

“Can I read them?” he asked quietly.

It took you a second to realise what he meant, the letters. The ones in the drawer of your bedside table.

You hesitated, then nodded.

“They’re yours.”

He reached for the drawer, pulling out the small stack bound with a ribbon. The papers were worn, smudged in places where your tears had fallen. He read in silence for a while, eyes moving slowly, his fingers brushing the edges as though they were fragile things.

Each word was a piece of the months he’d missed, your hopes, your fears, the nights you talked to the baby, the mornings you woke alone. When he finally set them down, his eyes were wet.

“I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll never leave you alone for that long.”

You touched his face, smiling softly.

“You’ll go where you’re needed. I know that. But now you know what’s waiting for you when you come home.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Home,” he murmured. “You, and our child.”

You both sat there for a while, quiet, wrapped in morning light and the fragile newness of peace.

The war, the missions, the long silence, they all seemed distant now. All that mattered was the promise between you.

Alejandro shifted slightly, resting his head against your belly, speaking softly in Spanish, words of love and protection.

You didn’t understand every one, but the warmth in his voice said everything.

When you finally got up, the house filled with the smell of coffee and toast, the soft sound of laughter.

Alejandro followed you to the kitchen, still touching you as if afraid you’d disappear, a hand on your back, a kiss to your shoulder, soft affection in every gesture.

You caught him staring more than once, his eyes full of something deep and tender.

“What?” you asked with a smile.

He shook his head slowly, smiling back.

“Nothing. Just… my life. Right here.”

And as you stood there together, you realised he was right.

After all the waiting, the distance, the fear, you had everything you both fought for.

You had love. You had a home.

You had each other.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

Alejandro lingers in the mudroom connected to the entry door of the garage, the dirt and sweat of the day clinging to him. His gaze is downward, mouth a thin line, the middle of his brow tight as he stares at the muddy duffel bag on the floor.

A few soft steps. A silent shadow moving across the floor to him. There is no reason to make yourself known. Alejandro knows you, as if you radiate an aura only he sees.

Alejandro glances up, his mouth forming an appreciative smile. “Mi amor,” he croons, extending an arm, fingers grasping for you as you walk into his arms.

But there is another creature in the room. A hungry thing. Primal in its need to consume. You are that beast. Alejandro your prey. Your husband a juicy meal that’ll satisfy any craving. Your fingers find his leather belt, hooking around the band. Strength is not your strongest attribute but you tug anyway. Alejandro saunters into the pull.

“I missed you,” you murmur sweetly.

Alejandro draws his hands up your arms, hooks a singular finger under your chin, teasing your face toward him. “Missed you, too.”

You trace the metal buckle, silently prodding at what you’re after. “How much do you think I missed you?”

Alejandro chuckles. “Not any more than I missed you.”

You lick your lips in want and his gaze hones in on your tongue. “Want to find out?” you ask as the metal buckle opens up in your hands.

He’s not stopping you. Alejandro drops his hands to his sides, all his fearsome fire lingering in his eyes. “Show me, mi amor.”

The zipper goes next. Your hands slide beneath the band of his cargo pants. Easing them down, you get them to just around his thighs. Before you is his cock, semi-hard but growing stiffer by the second. You lick your lips again, swallowing as salvia pools in your mouth, wanting you to use it for another purpose.

“Show me,” he says again. It’s followed by a string of Spanish, murmured so softly you almost miss it.

You sink down to your knees. Lick a line over his balls with the tip of your tongue, tease the underside of his shaft with a flick before returning to his balls again. Alejandro inhales sharply. He moves instinctively, one hand grasping the back of your head. He doesn’t shove your mouth down on his cock. Only waits.

You kiss and lick up and down his cock, making sure to give his balls as much love as you do the rest of him. Alejandro breathes heavily through his nostrils, Spanish falling from his lips in guttural groans and moans, all of it encouraging you on, telling you how fucking beautiful you are on your knees.

From above, it looks like every person in Las Almas has left their homes, rushing through the festival like the raging currents of whitewater rapids. Today though, Alejandro is in the crowd, watching it shift and change around him, scanning the area for anything that might have attracted your attention. Whenever you came to this festival, you were a man on a mission, visiting any booth that struck your fancy, while Alejandro mostly followed your lead. He loved the festival, but he loved being with you more, and so let you guide him on whatever you wanted.

Alejandro had married you, his beloved husband years ago, but in all this time, the time you two had been together, there was one thing you truly excelled at. Walking away in the two seconds he had his head turned to disappear entirely into a crowd. It’s not like you tried to run away. You were just good at focusing on what you wanted, and not as good at making sure Alejandro was keeping up. So here he was, scanning the crowd with the hope of spotting the back of your head, wherever you might have made it off to.

It took an unfortunately long while, but Alejandro did finally spot you, standing at one of the booths and talking with another man. More accurately, he was talking at you, and you were leaning away, expression wrinkled in disgust. His perfect husband, cornered by a stranger and looking like you weren't enjoying the conversation. So naturally, he pushes through the shifting crowd towards you.

Even as he approaches, Alejandro can see how annoyed you look. You must have been trying to haggle with the vendor of the table you were at when this man came up, doing whatever he was doing to annoy you. That, the look on your face and the reaction you were having to this man, was enough of a cardinal sin that Alejandro was already growing angry on your behalf. How dare this man bother you? How dare he get into your space, acting like he had any right to be as insufferable as he wants to you.

You must spot him out of the corner of your eye, because Alejandro can see the moment you nearly melt in relief, edging away from the stranger. When he gets close, he's near boiling with rage. The man's voice is floating over, sleazy and oily with alcohol, and you are clearly not enjoying his attention. Because he's flirting. With you. With Alejandro's husband. Oh fuck no, he catches himself thinking, lunging up to grab you and tucking you into his side, near growling at the man. Like it or not, Alejandro is a colonel, a big man who knows just how intimidating he is, so he towers over this stranger in a way that's honestly terrifying, holding eye contact with him while the stranger cowers back.

Even so, when Alejandro speaks, his words are for you. "My love, is this man bothering you?" His voice is more of a growl than anything, animalistic and cruel. Lower and darker than it is with you.

You know you're safe though, and just tuck further into him. "He wants to go on a date, can you believe that?" Buoyed by Alejandro's presence, you're being snide now too, since the man won't leave you alone.

Your husband barks a laugh, sneering at the still silent stranger. "He's taken already, pendejo. Find yourself someone else. Because I don't fucking share." With Alejandro’s final words, the stranger bolts, disappearing into the crowd, and you two are left alone once more, Alejandro’s arm around your waist.

He’s half tempted to give chase, actually taking a step after the man, but you tug back on him, laughing softly. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, your voice is gentle, words just for him when you speak. “I swear, Ale, you’re the most jealous man I know.”

Alejandro knows this script, knows this joke, so he nuzzles into your hair, the grin that's unstoppable in your presence sliding onto his face. "You know other men?"

When you burst out laughing, nearly doubled over, he knows he's hit the nail right on the head once more. His favorite thing to do is make you laugh, make you happy, be the cause of your joy. In all the time you've been married, Alejandro has never ceased in ensuring you're happy. He's never forgotten how much he loves you, dear and darling to his heart.

ALEJANDRO has the camera recording for 2 minutes long and the scene across anybody's phone who spot this video accidentally was a sight. Your back arched akin to a stretching cat, your wrists tied up together with his belt behind your spine. The owner of the belt was behind you, ramming your little rear hard enough to the point of breaking the bed had the highest chance of happening. Your ass ripples from every thrust he landed, and that is the moment where your eyeballs rolled to the back of your head. With the pace to be described intense and bliss, you instinctively wanted to scream. As much as you wanted to do so, you were geting punished for disobeying him.

The punishment was getting a gag ball muffling your words and curses from exiting your mouth and concealing them in your sore throat. Your whines and screeches were the only sounds heard in the video and Alejandro's husky audibles. "Hear how you sound when you're obeying me? 'S what you should sound like everyday, chiquita. Obeying me like it's your duty. What if some pendejos tear you away from me, hm? You gon' run away with them?" He interrogates before putting down his palm harshly onto your ass with his meaty hand.

You let out a whimper, your rear squirming from his harsh slap. "Answer me, or I'm colouring your cute little bum red." You shook your head at his question insistently as possible, knowing you didn't want him to stop with his spanks and was the one action that arouses you the most. "Good girl, now let me abuse this cunt." He states before pushing your face into your silky pillows, drowning it in your drool before he smacks your ass and continues to thrust in your juicy flower with his thick, lengthy cock.

You gazed at the camera that stood at the top of the headboard with bed eyes, showing your full row of teeth as you cheekily grin. And when he finally came, he insistently pushed his hips to your full-of-hand-marks bum, filling your cunt and atempting to fit his balls in as if imitating the action of 'knotting'. "Fuck, you're damn tight bébé. This hole's all for me, huh?" You nodded, wiggling your hips back as if accepting his 'knot'. He likes the way you instantly follow his every order. If he could, he'd devour you to the roots of your tresses until the tip of your toes. Let everybody know how only this devoted wolf owns this pretty little lamb and that nobody but him can possess her. If they try, they'll know how ruthless ALEJANDRO is if someone attempts to claim what's his.