#javi talks

[javitrulovesims]

Simmers: "They are obviously going to use TS4 lore and TS4 don't have any Lore so that Movie is going to Flop"

TS4 Spellcaster Vs Vampires War: 🤨 TS4 Princess Cordelia Adventures: 🤨 The Entire StrangerVille Plot: 🤨 Landgraab Vs Zest Drama:🤨

[foefire-flame]

I have a hc that like, the braids Rytlock has around his jaw are part of a routine so like whenever im drawing him casually without them he has so much dangling fur around his face its ........... cute

[asongfortheunloved]

I'm a just a girl, in my Wednesday costume (Merlina in my country) booping you with all my love

[notjustjavierpena]

reading routine and seeing javi and wife watching kids tv after the kids are in bed made me chuckle so much but it’s so them!

I imagine they’re often sitting cuddled together looking at toys in catalogues trying to pick presents for kids birthdays or Christmas together.

In my head they genuinely enjoy this part of parenthood and getting to know they’re kids and their interests to be able to give them the best life !

Anything, a husband!Javier Christmas fic

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Will you be upset that this is just pure smut? It definitely could have been more Christmassy but I promise it is a treat.

Summary: Someone interrupts picking out Christmas presents for your kids…

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

Tags: +18 smut, domestic life, BANTER, couch sex, dry humping, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praises and pet names, rough sex, doggy, spanking, PHAT breeding kink, slightest dubcon, the messiest creampie in hubby history, comeplay, they are gross and in love, absolutely married to each other

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61468969

Anything

“Are you ready yet?” Javier calls from the living room. He has finally gotten comfortable on the couch but you’re nowhere to be seen, and it makes him call out your name. 

“Sorry! I’m here!” You rush into the living room from the kitchen, gaze fixed in concentration on a steaming mug of hot chocolate in your hand. Javier admires you in one of his shirts, the hem sitting around your mid-thigh and letting him have a peek at your bare legs. He glances at his coffee on the table in front of the couch, then fondly at the bobbing marshmallows on top of your drink. You always have a sweet tooth during December, not able to resist the temptation of indulging in the many treats that Christmas brings. You gain too much weight, you always say, but Javier thinks you’re the sexiest thing in the world and it has little to do with what the scale in the bathroom says. 

He watches you place the hot chocolate next to his coffee and crawl onto the seat next to him, legs tucked underneath yourself so you can lean into his side properly. The ritual has yet to begin, but you sigh a soft sigh to let him know you’re ready. 

“Right,” Javier holds up the catalog in front of you both. He takes one last look at the two mugs on the coffee table, heart soft and content in his chest when he notices how well your respective drink fits you. You’re sweet and warm, a nice contrast to the unforgiving taste of coffee that’s hardly suitable for everyone’s palates. 

“Something they want, something they need, something to wear and something to read,” you remind and recite to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder. He feels his skin warm up there under his shirt, feels like he is lucky to have you seek subtle affection like this even though he is married to you. 

“And 100 dollars each top, the spoiled brats,” he bites around the marker in order to take the cap off with his teeth, securing it at the base afterward. He flips the first page and the hunt has begun. 

“Hey, those are my kids you’re talking about,” you nudge him playfully while scanning the page and it pulls a little chuckle from him, his heart fluttering at the way you pretend-scold him. It is like being teenagers who tease one another as a way of letting each other know that they like-like each other. 

“You won’t be happy with our budget when we have a third,” he shrugs so the pages jump in front of your eyes. You pinch at the bottom of the page to hold it steady. 

“This one,” you say and point to a Magic Tracks set, deliberately ignoring the words he has just dared to speak. 

It makes him laugh properly now but he still circles the racetrack set in bright red Sharpie, “Ignoring that on purpose, huh?” 

“After saying you want a whole soccer team, I think it’s only proof of my sanity that I ignore you, Peña,” you say and flip a few pages, a little smile playing on your lips despite acting nonchalant. 

He scans the pages with you and circles a tea set made of plastic, “Your husband has Christmas wishes too.”

“Oh, this one’s perfect for Inés’ farm animals,” you tap the page, and he murmurs something about how his daughter will love it. You raise a brow when he lays the catalog out across your laps, moving the free hand to rest on your thigh. You tut, “Well, my husband should let Santa know of these wishes then.”

“Santa doesn’t know me like you do,” Javier squeezes the plumpness of your thigh. He leans in to brush his lips across the spot just behind your ear. God, you smell so good that his cock twitches, “Besides, Santa already agrees I don’t need a fucking thing under the tree. Solo tú (just you).”

You yank the Sharpie out of his hand with an exaggerated sigh of disapproval yet you tilt your head so he can drown in your perfume, “Swearing now? You’ll end up on the naughty list.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he is the one to put his head on your shoulder now, “And you should know; you’re usually the one who puts me there.”

You pull back so he has to sit up straight again. He doesn’t acknowledge your glare even when it doesn’t have any malice in it, just reaches for his coffee to have a sip. 

You use the same sternness with him as you do with your children but from the way your breath shifts slightly, he knows you’re trying to hide how close you are to giving him what he wants, “I don’t know what you’re implying but you’re not getting it.”

“Oh, I’m getting it,” he says in a raspy murmur, a smirk on his face as he watches your flustered face over the rim of his coffee mug. You flip through a few more pages with forced concentration, but eventually, even you have to admit that you’re getting distracted. 

You look up at him with exasperation, the Sharpie pointing at him, “Javi.”

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love)?” He takes another sip of coffee. 

“I need to finish this. I want Christmas to be perfect…” You pout a little and he yearns to kiss you until you giggle, “So I need you to focus.”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry), your husband’s gonna behave now,” he reaches out with his free hand and rubs your back gently. This means a lot to you, he realizes and feels a little bad for how he is ruining it. He sets his coffee back on the table and takes your mug of hot chocolate, exchanging it for the Sharpie once more. You take a small sip but decide that it’s still too hot for your tongue. 

“Right,” he says in the same manner as when the both of you started this, setting aside his excitement to make you happy. He talks while you place your mug beside his again, “Inés has an obsession with those horse toys. My Little Ponies? We should get something a little more expensive for those and the tea set.”

You light up at his engagement. He knows this is when you love him the most, and you turn back a few pages to point to a miniature stable, “She’ll adore this.”

“She’ll lose her little mind,” he agrees and circles the horse stable. Out of the corner of his eye, he can feel your gaze lingering on him just long enough to let him know that your own concentration is fading. 

“Concentration, baby, I need it from you,” he taunts playfully when you’re halfway through the toy catalog together but you have gone quiet despite your thoughts being very loud. Javier smiles to himself, unable to not feel flattered by how his fatherhood is turning you on. 

“I am concentrating. Luke wants a scooter but I need him to have a helmet and pads,” you shift a little bit in your spot, pausing briefly and sighing to gain his attention, “I was just thinking—“

“Don’t brag,” he interrupts cockily to make you stick out your tongue.

“Can I finish my sentence, Peña?” You click your tongue at him in disapproval afterward, “I was thinking that if you finish this - no shenanigans - you could get a little reward.”

That piques his interest, “What are we talking here? Enlighten your husband.”

“I thought that maybe,” you trail off, flicking through the next few pages to nearly make him toss the catalog aside and claim you right now. You pick the Sharpie from his hand and circle a remote-controlled dinosaur, “Maybe when we finish this, I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Blood rushes south so fast in Javier’s body that his head starts to spin. He can feel his cock come to life at the thought of the endless possibilities that the words whatever you want bring, and a thousand ideas come to him at once.

“Anything?” He asks as if he is unaffected but his cock has gone hard for you in an instant, straining uncomfortably against the seam of his jeans and begging for relief. 

“Mhm, yup, anything,” you hum softly, sitting there calmly and flipping through the catalog as if you didn’t just drop the most dangerous line. He shifts subtly in his seat to adjust his erection, hoping that you don’t notice anything but out of the corner of his eye, he spots the way your mouth curls into a knowing smirk. 

“Careful, baby,” you tease without looking up from the BABY Born doll on the page, “You might lose focus.”

“I’m focused,” he only just manages without letting the strain on his voice reveal him. He gives an exasperated chuckle, “Just not on the toys.”

“I said only when we finish this,” you glance at his lap and he throbs even more at being found out. Then you count the pages with quick fingers, “And we’ve got ten more pages to go.” 

It takes a moment for him to regain his composure but eventually, he yanks the Sharpie out of your hand, his voice still sounds like a plea, “Let’s finish this then.”

By the time you reach the last page, Javier has been a good boy for the eternity it has taken for you to go through the entire catalog together. You even decided to go back and reevaluate a few of your choices just to taunt him, and by now he feels on the brink, can barely contain himself. 

“Good boy,” you grin after he snaps the cap back onto the marker and tosses it onto the coffee table with a relieved sigh. You sit on your knees to lean in for a kiss that is way too sweet, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You’re too cute for what is happening inside his head but then you confidently place a hand right on top of his clothed cock and whisper, and he knows you’re right there with him in his depravity, “Although this might be.”

He moans quietly and grabs your wrist the second you start to teasingly stroke him. All he can do is hear those three words - whatever you want - and when he starts to shift on the couch, your confidence wavers slightly. 

Javier moves until he has you caged beneath his body but you don’t protest it, has allowed loads of raunchy make-out sessions like this. However, he has more in mind because he has already decided what he wants, has thought about it the whole time since you gave him a free pass to your body, but you don’t allow it anymore. Ever since Lucas - and Inés now too - started walking around the house unsupervised and thus into rooms unannounced, you have stressed that sex is to be kept within the four walls of your bedroom. It’s perfectly fine… if he didn’t have to pretend he doesn’t want you every time he looks at you. 

Holding himself up with one hand and cupping your face with the other, he captures your mouth in a desperate kiss. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that this is so much more than just making out before you retire to your bedroom. 

“Aquí no (not here),” you gasp into his mouth yet still hold onto him, mind and body working against each other.

“Aquí sí (yes here),” he murmurs against your lips, “And don’t pretend for a second that your panties aren’t soaked through at the idea. I want you right here, bent over the arm of the couch.”

“Javi, we can’t,” you shake your head with an eye on the path to the staircase where children could come stumbling down any moment, however still tipping your head back to allow his mouth to descend on your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where you’ve applied your sweet perfume in the morning.

“You smell so good. Merry Christmas to me,” he says instead of acknowledging your protest, the tip of his nose skimming along the column of your throat to reach the other side too. He grins, breathlessly chuckles, and grinds his hard and clothed cock into your thigh, “Oh fuck.”

“We should go to the bedroom,” you moan softly as he puts his thigh between your legs, forcing your t-shirt to crawl up along your thighs until your lace panties are exposed. He finds your gaze, smiling at the reveal of the hardly appropriate choice of underwear and the way your mouth falls open when he moves his leg slowly. He teases your covered clit with the fabric of his pant leg and sends electricity up your spine. 

He watches your resolve crumble with every slow grind of his thigh between your legs. A tiny moan from your mouth sends his heart rate soaring and soon, both of your breaths are coming out faster. 

“We’re not making it to the bedroom with how fast you’re coming right now,” he mumbles through concentrated breathing. You seem to know this already, your thighs tightening around his leg and your arms linking around his neck. He can feel your nails dig into his skin, and suddenly your hips are moving on their own accord. He presses more firmly against you to earn friction to his cock too, the rough denim of his jeans sitting tightly around his length. The fabric catches just right on your sensitive clit, and you try to be quiet about it but he can see how good it feels to you with how your brows furrow as you gasp his name. 

He hasn’t had you like a fumbling teenager in so long but this - the urgency and clumsiness of acting like a dog in a rut on his couch - makes him feel alive in a way that his sex life hasn’t in a while. Parental responsibility has come (no pun intended) in the way of how he really wants you all the time, and where he used to have you on every surface in the house he paid for, he’s had to be good for too long. He is done being good. 

Beneath him, your confidence has started to grow along with each roll of your hips, your orgasm is building. You look beyond stunning with your eyes fluttering closed, your body deep in pleasure, and your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on how it feels. 

He kisses underneath your jaw and tastes salty sweat, his hand going up under your t-shirt to grab your breast. He palms it at first but then skims his thumb around your already-hardened nipple, surprising you with a pinch. It has you hurtling toward an intense orgasm filled with exciting risks.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” you say just when you’ve moaned in unison. You reach down to grab his thigh, now rutting against him shamelessly as you chase pleasure. 

“God, you’re stunning, my beautiful wife,” his voice has dropped an octave, coated with desire. His dick pulses, dancing on the edge of release that he can’t have yet. Your hips falter but he is right there to save you, bouncing you on his thigh until you unravel.

Your eyes fly open to stare up at him as it happens, your face sporting a pained expression until you suddenly smile in relief, and he swears loudly at how much restraint he has to show because he wants to finish in his jeans at the sight. You moan obscenely and roll your hips through it, trembling beneath him as you come, and he just knows you’re throbbing against the width of his thigh as wetness spreads across it. 

You pant in the aftermath and giggle in your haze, looking unsure of exactly what just happened while you reach into your panties to cup your cunt in its aftershocks. You even dare rub your sensitive clit only to whimper and nearly make Javier unleash something beastly. 

One thing is for sure though and it is that the fact that fucked-out you don’t protest his advances anymore. Instead, you welcome them and a look in your eye makes it seem like you are desperate to be filled up with his cock. He is more than happy to indulge you in your delirious state. 

Although you also look like a baby giraffe, your legs unable to hold you up, it doesn’t stop him from getting whatever he wants. He grabs your knee to get your attention. 

“Turn around,” he orders in the same voice he uses on his inferiors at work but with you, there’s an underlying desire, affection even, in the way he growls. 

You follow orders so fast that he feels his cock move underneath his jeans, and without hesitation, he pulls down the zipper and shoves them down to get out of the confinements of the denim as quickly as possible. He takes a quick breath when the air of the living room hits the sensitive skin of his dick, it standing right into the air with how hard and touch-starved it is. 

In front of him, you’ve spread your legs and braced yourself against the arm of the couch by resting on your forearms. In the cozy, warm lighting of the room, he can see your lace panties have started sticking to your slit. 

“You get this wet from the idea of fucking on the couch? Breaking your little rules?” He knows you can hear the smirk in his voice and it only grows wider when you shake your head. It’s a game by now, acting like he isn’t the owner of what is between your legs. 

“That’s not—“ you try but his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, only pulling them as far down as he has to. He leaves them tangled around your thighs, touches you where they’ve stuck to you and you jerk forwards, “Fuck.”

“Don’t think I’ve been so hard in forever. We needed this, baby,” he admits and scoots closer to you on the couch. He presses the head of his cock between your folds, feeling how you’re already trying to suck him in. and your head hangs between your shoulders while you release a trembling breath. 

With a hand on the small of your back and a hand around his cock, he sheathes himself fully inside of you in a steady motion and oh fuck, his balls are aching for release already. You make an impatient sound, rocking your hips back against him to grind on his cock. 

“Please,” you whimper at the aching stretch. You have already collapsed against the armrest and with his hands finding your gorgeous hips - the ones who have borne his child - he lets his cock fill you over and over again. 

“You feel so fucking good, mi amor (my love), so tight around me,” he moans with a heavy breath, savoring the way you clench softly around him already. Your walls are warm and wet, squelching lewdly with each thrust from how much your body has prepared itself for him. 

“You’re in me so deep, Javi. I can feel you everywhere,” you gasp shakily even when he knows he could go deeper. He roughly switches between dragging you harshly down on his throbbing cock and snapping his hips forward so they crash into your ass with a filthy smack. It makes you whimper with each thrust, whining like a wounded animal. 

One of his hands slides up your spine to tangle itself in the hair at the back of your neck while the other rests flat on the dip of the small of your back. He arches your body by tugging your head back slightly and pushing down just above your jiggling ass. It switches up the angle at which he fucks you, and it is almost too much to listen to how wanton you get when he repeatedly stabs your front wall. 

“Who’s fucking you, baby?” He demands. 

“You!” You choke out on the verge of tears, “Fuck, it’s you!”

“And who am I?” He smacks your ass to the point where your body tenses up and he nearly doubles over from how you squeeze his dick. 

“My husband,” you moan loudly, “Spank me again.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls while his head swims and his heartbeat races. God, his cock is living for the moment as he hits you again and hears you croak in delicious pain, “My wife takes me so fucking well. You like that?”

You make a guttural sound and try to nod with him holding your head in place by your hair. There’s a slow shift in the way you are tightening around him. You’ll come again soon, he can feel it, so worked up that your cunt flutters around him in that familiar way but it doesn’t seem to be enough for you. You cross your ankles, narrowing the space between your jiggling thighs and making Javier fit even more snugly inside your wet heat. He groans loudly, hoping Inés and Lucas are fast asleep, his eyes nearly rolling back into his skull and his pace faltering for a moment.

“What are you doing to me, baby? You’re so tight, I can barely fucking move,” he hisses, struggling to keep up until you gasp out that you’re close. He knows it is going to be his undoing, knows that if this is fucking fantastic already around his dick, he won’t last through your cunt squeezing him during your release. 

He decides to slam into you to get you there, watching you arch your back even further to welcome him right into that sweet spot inside of you. The added pressure makes you cry out and look back at him, gasping for air as he aims to push you over the edge, “Fuck, I’m… Javi— fuck, I’m gonna come!”

“Yeah? You fucking love this. Gets you going, huh? Being this full of me,” he taunts through gritted teeth, feeling sweat on his brow threatening to drip down.

“Sí (yes),” you agree weakly, your air forced out of your lungs at his power. 

“Wait till I fill this pussy up, till you’re round with another baby. Then everyone will know how much she loves being stuffed,” he moans, his mouth faster than his brain.

You look at him with wide eyes, already scolding him despite teetering on the edge, “Javier Peña. Don’t you dare— fuck, we can barely keep up with the two kids we have ah–lready. Oh God, that feels–”

“I want to get you pregnant again,” he confesses recklessly, knowing it’s far from your plans, murmuring it amid his brain fog, “I can keep up, I can give you everything, baby. I’ll take care of you, of the kids, of everything. Please. Just let me– fuck, let me come inside.”

“No,” you whimper with a shake of your head but your body betrays you. You push back against him one last time, “I—“

You come in the next moment. If he thinks you’ve been loud before, it is nowhere near the sounds you let out at the first spasm of your release. You shove your face into the armrest so as to not wake up the rest of the house, clamping down so tightly around him that he swears he’ll see God. 

“Liar,” he drags his hands down your body again to hold tightly onto your hips and his head swims with how you still have your back dipped, your ass so inviting in this position that he wants to smack it again, “Dime que lo quieres (say you want it). Say you want me to fill you up.”

“Please, Javi, I want it,” you give in during the aftermath of your orgasm, sensitive and high on dopamine, your forehead resting on your hands as they grip the armrest tight enough to make your knuckles whiten, “Please, I need it. Give it to me.”

Your begging tips him over the edge, his rhythm staggering. A few more thrusts deep into your still-squeezing cunt and he is done for, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of you. You are his wife, the mother of his children, and you look so goddamn beautiful speared on his cock that he cannot hold back anymore. 

He spills into you more than he ever has before. His come just doesn’t stop, keeps coming and fills you to the brim in pulses that send electricity to the very ends of his nerves. 

“Jesus, you weren’t lying when you said you needed it,” you half-laugh and half-gasp at the fullness, looking back at him with furrowed brows and a moan as another thick rope spills into you. He watches your open mouth with a little groan and he slides his hands beneath you to hold you in place, pinning you while another wave of warmth enters you. 

“You’re— baby, you’re still coming,” you whimper softly and your body starts shaking as you take it all. He knows it must be overwhelming, knows that you are probably aching from the pressure building inside you. 

“Fuck, I know, mi amor (my love)” he mutters with unsteady breaths, your walls fluttering weakly around him, resulting in your pussy squeezing the last few drops from his cock, “I… It’s so much.”

You’re not laughing anymore. Instead, you have become a shuddering and pathetic mess from how intense it feels to be claimed so fully. Javier dares look down at where the two of you are still connected, the sight sparking something beastly and primal in him. A milky white ring has formed around his girth, his generous release threatening to spill down his length before he has even removed himself from you. 

Despite not even trying for a third baby - and therefore knowing that losing himself in you was foolish of him - he just knows that this might’ve been the time that did it, this is where he’d look at you proudly and say ay, that did it, huh?

You whine feebly from below him and it pulls him from his trance. He drags his cock out of your mess of a pussy with a wet pop, covered in his and your come, and he can feel the way your body becomes heavier in his grip, your legs ready to give out on you when the pressure inside you shifts. 

“Ah,” you moan the moment he pulls out and turn your head away from him again. A thick gush of his come follows, spilling from you in a thick, glistening dollop and his fingers tighten on your waist and hips at the obscene picture. 

“Look at you. You’re so full, mamá, taking all of me,” he praises, watching the drops of release slide down the inside of your thigh, some of it dripping onto your underwear and some of it onto the couch below. He should be more concerned with the couch’s fabric but he finds that he is too mesmerized by your body working against his load. 

"I can feel it," your voice trembles and you slump even more against the armrest, “It’s so messy, Javi.”

“Let me take a look at you,” he almost feels like he has tunnel vision, and can see nothing but you as your cunt weeps with a mix between the both of you. He spreads your thighs wider with his hands, causing your hips to jerk and another dollop to hit the couch. Its surface is a mess by now, translucent stains spreading across the fabric where the slick warmth is still pooling. Somehow, the sight is enough to make his cock stir and his balls tighten again. 

“You’re dripping all over the place. It is perfect. I want you like this all the time. His words make you moan and nod. You tilt your hips slightly, biting back a soft sound as the provocative movement sends another slow gush slipping free. Javier laughs quietly, just knows you’re smirking like the dirty girl you are, “Now you’re just showing off.”

You snicker, however you are struggling to hold yourself up. He can see your head dipping to glance below yourself. You make a noise of complaint and he can hear the faux-exasperation in your voice, “Javi, it’s everywhere.”

“I can see that,” he says simply, amused. He smacks your ass. The seemingly last drops of his seed are forced out of your overstimulated body by the impact, the amount enough for this to be irresponsible towards your traumatized furniture. 

“You’re making it worse!” You laugh helplessly, reaching underneath yourself to swat at his hand, but your giggle is cut short by a moan as his fingers suddenly brush against what still clings to your folds. 

“I don’t think it can get any worse, I mean, look at you, such a messy pussy you’ve got,” he teases playfully as he leans over you briefly to kiss your back. His free hand slides around you to your stomach, pressing down gently, and he watches in awe as well as surprise as even more of his warm and sticky come slips out. You make a noise, and he concludes that it must be the last of his load, “Besides, it’s not me… You’re the one with a pussy that’s drooling all over the place.”

“The couch is ruined,” you declare instead of answering his little taunt. Carefully, you push yourself back to crawl over the pool of naughty evidence and Javier instinctively grabs your waist to guide you in case your legs are too wobbly. He is itching to get close to you, and kiss you well and properly. 

"If this couch couldn’t handle us, it wasn’t worth keeping anyway,” he says when you finally fall into his arms with a little huff, naked and messy. God, how are you his? He feels so sated and happy as he pulls you into a lingering kiss, wiping his hand on the couch - it needs a scrub anyway - so he can rest his broad hand on the back of your neck. He grabs onto you there, a little possessively, “Eres mía (you’re mine).”

“Yours,” you hum and drag your tongue against his. He is so fucking into you. 

“Maybe a new couch is my present this year,” you say when you part again and shift slightly to melt into his chest. The both of you look at the messy stains on the fabric, “Although I am gonna miss it. We made Luke on it.”

Javier lights up slightly, cannot quite believe that he’s forgotten, “Shit, that’s right, we did.”

“You don’t remember the conception of your own son?” You tease him, resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. You rest your palm on his warm chest, the crispness of his shirt having been substituted with slightly damp warmth.

“Forgive me but we were like goddamn rabbits, my wife,” he cups your cheek and pecks your lips a few times, making you slump even further. He watches you think loud enough for him to imagine the cogs turning in your mind. 

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?” You tut with a small smile, subtly trying to hide your uncertainty.  

“You have no idea,” he rubs your back soothingly while your eyes droop. He tests the waters by asking you a simple question, “Tired?”

You sigh softly, “Yeah, but I don’t think I can move after that.”

He is quick, trying to make you giggle, “Bién (good), means I did my job.”

You huff a soft laugh and he grins because he cannot help it. The sound makes him feel like someone is running around inside his chest, his pulse racing from even the softest chuckle that escapes your lips. 

“It will become a problem if I can’t take Lucas to school tomorrow,” you note with closed eyes. 

“You don’t have to do anything but sit here and look beautiful,” he squeezes you, nosing along your neck, and you hum in satisfaction. 

After a short while, a silence falls over you in the afterglow. It is nice but he cannot help but feel there’s something on your mind, something that troubles you. He gently touches you where he knows you like it, and meanwhile, you look shy. 

“Thank you,” you eventually say.

“What for?” He asks despite how he might already know, peppering your neck with kisses, pressing a hot kiss to your jawline.

“Opening up the opportunity to do this again… the spontaneity. I know I haven’t— I suppose it’s been hard to feel sexy when you have a kid on your hip all the time.“

“Ay, mi amor (my love),” he shakes his head. He shifts you slightly, caring very little about how you smear his naked thighs with your soaked underwear. He reaches around your back to cradle you and reaches for your hand as it lays in your lap, “You’re sexy all the time.”

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” you press your nose into his cheek, “I keep forgetting how good it can be when we let go. I just worry.”

“You overthink it and that’s okay. We can start slow,” he coos but he has never been more sincere. You have been covered in spit up from Inés and he still wanted you. 

“This wasn’t slow,” you say and turn your head to rest your forehead against his. 

“Yeah, I’ve never— fuck, I’ve never come like that before.”

“Yeah, you were insatia—“ your gaze flickers to the coffee table, and suddenly, a tiny gasp leaves you. Javier tenses. 

“Oh no,” you mutter, sitting up quickly. 

“What?” Javier asks, his brows knitting together as he watches you reach for the Christmas mug on the table, “What’s wrong?”

“My hot chocolate!” You exclaim, lifting it up to your lips and taking a testing sip. You grimace immediately, “It’s cold!”

“Christ, woman, I thought something was actually wrong,” he chuckles. 

“Something is wrong. It was perfect and now it’s ruined,” you retort, pouting, “Next time, I’m finishing my drink first.”He takes the mug from you and sets it aside again so he can wrap you in a tight hug, “Next time, I’ll make you forget all about it again.”

.

.

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

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

[amelia-mariee]

I took my mom to see Twisters because i assumed she’d love Tyler Owens, but she was actually much more focused on that guy Ben. She was so worried about him the entire movie. After Kate’s plan worked and the tornado disappeared, my mom immediately turned to me and went “wait what happened to the British guy? Is he okay?” She was so proud of him for getting his first cowboy hat. She laughed every time he said anything. My mom is Ben’s biggest (and probably only) fan.

[ace-and-sleepdeprived]

ahem, i’m starting to see people try to vilify javi for some of the choices he made, so i’m here to defend my boy.

“he purposefully put kate back into a triggering atmosphere and got mad at her for appropriately panicking!” first of all, he didn’t get mad at her when they didn’t get the full scan of the first tornado because kate freaked out - he visibly got frustrated, yes, but he didn’t lash out at her. if anything he probably felt awful for putting her in that situation, but he had to be professional cause of storm par, and second of all, he understands that she’s traumatized because he’s traumatized too!! just because javi wasn’t in the fucking tornado with the rest of the tamers does NOT mean he isn’t JUST as traumatized as kate is from losing three of his best friends in a freak storm. just because his way of coping with the trauma is more like jo’s in the original doesn’t mean he doesn’t harbor the same guilt kate does.

“he still has the storm par truck at the end so he’s just gonna continue being an opposing force to kate and the wranglers!” i think javi still having the lion truck doesn’t explicitly mean he’s still with storm par - as he tells scott in the scene where he dumps him that he’s done with storm par and with riggs - he likely either bought the truck from them or already has ownership of it [kate apologizing for stealing his truck], so he’s pretty plausibly not connected with storm par anymore. hell, it’s even heavily implied that javi’s working with the wranglers now, given his interactions with tyler at the airport.

“javi should’ve died in the movie!” so you want kate to have even MORE trauma on top of what she already has?? if javi had died that would’ve meant ALL of kate’s friends from the tornado tamers would be dead from tornadoes. i don’t know about you, but that would fuck SEVERELY with anybody’s psyche regarding tornadoes. in that situation, kate would be completely justified in going back to new york and never coming back, since oklahoma would be the place where four of the most important people in her life died horrific deaths. it’s GOOD that javi didn’t die and got to have a good ending alongside her, even if he was led astray because of his own guilt and didn’t make the wisest choices in who to connect himself with. he DESERVES a good ending as much as kate does, even if he coped with the trauma in not the best way.

this is just my two cents, but i HAD to talk about this because i don’t want to see people try to paint javi as the villain when he clearly isn’t.

[taiturner]

NAT & AKILAH Yellowjackets ◆ Seasons 1-2

[tgmsunmontue]

                Bradley looks around the bar. None of his friends are in sight and the quiz is meant to start in less than five minutes. Their regular, weekly, quiz, which they all confirmed they were coming to not even two hours ago. And yet here he sits alone, nursing his bottle of beer and picking at his bowl of fries. He’s been stood up by his friends. Assholes.

                “Where’s the rest of your team?”

                “Good question,” Bradley mutters sulkily, then turns to look at how has addressed him and he scowls. It’s the hyper-competitive guy from one of the other teams, the one who had shoved Bradley out of the way one time during a spot-prize round, tossed a you snooze, you lose over his shoulder and since then he’s sort of hated the guy. Of course, he’s let all his friends know about it too, ignored their sighs and eye rolls at his dark muttering; reminded him that it was meant to be fun. Not whatever thing he was turning it into.

                “You can always join our team for the night? If you want? Give you a taste of what winning feels like.”

                Bradley wants to be petty, wants to stomp off, wants to shove him.

                But his friends have made him come here and then left him alone. He’s not an idiot. Maybe he should have lightened up before they took to drastic measures.

                He looks at the other guy's easy smile, he’s clearly not been stewing by how annoying Bradley is, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

                “Thanks. Buy you a drink?”

                “Yeah. I’ll have what you’re having. Name’s Jake.”

“Bradley.”

                “Bradley,” Jake repeats, “nice to meet you.”

[javierduffy]

but when they're out on that river bank alone, what javier should be loyal to doesn't feel as confusing anymore

[thatrandomartistjavi]

I think I’ve said this before but smth that bothers me about the EAH fandom is that they try to look for darkness where it’s not present. This is really evident with how people talk about Professor Piper here.

Time and time again I see people say that EAH Piper is horrible because he kidnaps/kills kids. And like

Guys The Pied Piper of Hamelin has multiple versions of the story. Depending on who’s telling it, he either just takes the kids for a bit and returns them after he’s paid or he drowns them like he did the rats(and I’m only giving you two options there’s many more variations).

The thing that gets me is that people jump to that conclusion without taking into account Piper’s actual fucking personality. According to Melody in her diary, her dad didn’t actually follow his story to a T because she mentions that instead of drowning the rats, he just lead them to the forest

Please do tell me why you think the guy who couldn’t even get the courage to kill an infestation of rats would just be fine with killing literal children

Like in a quiz where if you got the Rebel option they would show you what classes you would take, it says how the Muse-ic class was an exception to the class schedule which means that rebels are not usually allowed to have that class WHICH MEANS that Piper had to in some way argue with Baba Yaga to be able to have his class for both royals and rebels

But yeah tell me how this guy who has been characterized as someone who hates hurting living things so much he went against his destiny and didn’t kill the rats like he was supposed to, is said by his daughter to be super accepting and even encourages her to follow her heart, is shown to be super gentle and sweet with his other students and is even implied to have fought for him to be able to teach to rebels which isn’t usual for his class, actually mercilessly killed all the children of Hamelin without thinking. Sure man

[javitrulovesims]

Honey, we need more vintage hair. I need to get more hair for my grandmother sims! Your hair is honestly some of my favorites <3 I hope you make more in the future.

Hi there nonny! thank you so much for the love! I hope to make many things as well just wishing and hoping for more free time in my days because i've been so busy that i'm sure that i will barely finish the Simblreen treats i planned for next week.

Trust me, more Vintage hair is on the works for the future :)

[foefire-flame]

Nightly lore thought is thinking about the ways Rytlock and Leo both approached falling in love. These experiences differ greatly as Rytlock isn't necessarily a stranger to it but is always still haunted by the memory of what he had with Crecia, vs Leo who is so aversed to approaching any kind of romantic relationship bc of not eanting to get hurt bc he would want somwthing long term but it isnt necessarily common on top of already existing as a black sheep by legion charr standards.

For Rytlock although he fell for Leo first it was still something he had to kinda both shove himself through and also. Bury. When he first starts feeling the prickle of love, the feeling where you start catching yourself craving the specific attention or time, or the allure of wanting to know more, he kinda dismissed it as something that was probably physical and remnants of missing any kind of relationship where he can both rely on someone else and confide in them. At the time Leo meets him again theyre both respectively in a pretty lonely place. This is the excuse he uses until after Leo (having caught on to Rytlock's subconscious lingering gaze) propositions something casual and they sleep together for the first time. Well maybe not directly after, I think it takes this going on for a bit until he realizes that no this isn't something that can be satisfied by a casual situationship, its deeper. One night as Leo is getting ready to leave and return back to his warband's barracks Rytlock kinda blurts out for him to stay, and Thats when he has to come to the realization that just as their friendship was growing, his feelings for Leo as something beyond what they had did have real substance. Leo doesn't stay, of course, and Rytlock kinda has a round or two with his own psyche of how this is all kind of stupid, theres no time for it, he always fucks up these things somehow, ect ect. But the very funny thing about love is that wants that train starts there Aint No Stopping It.

I mean like he's a grown ass man with a 9-5 officd job, so this isn't like love-sick puppy behavior, its something more refined and subtle, even if more subconsciously. He's more gentle with Leo, more patient. He prods him just to listen to see him get passionate about something because he likes seeing Leo get worked up about things he believes in. He starts inviting him out with him to get drinks which becomes routine. The more he can let his own mask slip the deeper his affection for Leo grows. The most embarassing thing is that he starts making jokes he would otherwise consider dumb because he learns that despite Leo's seemingly stoic, cool exterior he has a soft spot for puns that causes him to laugh and Rytlock likes to hear him laugh. He knows how leo likes his alcohol, he learns his tells, Leo chuckles when he's nervous, his left ears pin when he's about to sneeze. Then he wonders when the last time he knew someone this closely was, then he remembers the scar on his leg, the inticing warmth of Sohothin, he remembers Leo always refuses to stay. It's not that his feeling for Leo ever goes away but he has to bury them when the years go by and Leo still leaves every night. It becomes white noise, always there and easy to ignore or even forget. But then Leo does something and it resurfaces as a pointed reminder that they exist before it has to be shoved back down again...

Oh its 2am Ill have to do the leo half of this later but MAN

[asongfortheunloved]

I'm having a great day with all this j2 content going through my dash, my brain has never produced so much serotonin.

Don't let my tags fool you.

[notjustjavierpena]

Meadow (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

Summary: Javier hears you singing to his newborn.

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

Tags: Domestic, sugary fluff, Javi POV, babies!

Word count: 850

Meadow

Javier tries to be quiet as he returns to you, carrying a stuffed Eeyore in his hand while listening for the sound of Inés' unhappy hiccups. He calculates his steps on the ground to make sure not to step on a twig or a branch, the crackle of it sure to distress his newborn even more.

He finds that the tall grass dotted with wildflowers and the soft earth is forgiving of his feet, so much so that his presence goes completely unnoticed by you. He never knew that this spot existed, having always treated the road as nothing more but a road until you showed him that its surroundings were so much more. There’s a metaphor somewhere in that, something about him just passing through and you making him able to stop and take a look around. 

The sun is warm on his exposed skin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and you have convinced him to leave the jeans for a pair of comfortable slacks instead. He checks the time to see how long he has been gone and it’s nothing more than a few minutes, realizes that the sun is starting to fade from being at its highest point today. 

As he draws nearer to the spot you chose, Inés’ cries have died down completely until they are not heard at all. Instead, it is the soft sound of your voice that drifts through the air to him. You are singing quietly to his daughter, a lullaby that he remembers having heard before in a distant memory of his own childhood. 

A breeze rustles the leaves of the oak tree you sit beneath, its crown of leaves protecting you both from direct sunlight. As if forced by nature to relax, he hears the birds chirping too. This is peace and contentment, he thinks, and how wonderful it is to do nothing with the people that he loves the most. 

When he finally spots you, he finds you sitting on the blanket you brought with your sweater tucked underneath your slightly bent knees. Inés is resting in your lap, cradled by your soft arms, and sleeping soundly with her tiny fingers curled into fists. You are so beautiful as you stare down into his daughter’s blissful face, your smile even warmer in the soft glow of the sun. 

Occasionally, you run a thumb over the length of her nose but you never stop singing to her. The stuffed animal seems a waste of time now but if he hadn’t gotten it from the car, he would have never caught you like this. 

How has he gotten so lucky, he wonders, to have such an incredible woman to be the witness of his life? He cannot believe how sentimental you have made him, his chest aching as he watches your beauty grow even further as it is enhanced by the nature around you. More than a decade in Colombia and he thought he would never feel anything again. How ridiculous a thought that is. 

When he finally makes himself known again, bursting the bubble of quiet admiration he has been in, you turn your head when he kneels down beside you. You stop singing but Inés sleeps on.

Without a word, you notice Javier and then smile until it widens into a grin on your face that outshines the summer sunshine. He smiles back and places Eeyore on the ground in front of you, purposefully posing him to stand in the grass because you always hate when he is careless about stuffed toys. 

“I hope he doesn’t mind getting left in the car,” he whispers as he makes sure Eeyore won’t tip over, “Sorry it took a bit.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, “You have made it up to him; grass is his favorite.” 

“Papá! There are frogs here!” Suddenly, his four-year-old son emerges from somewhere in the tall grass, carrying a stick in his hand that he seems to be using as a sword. He grins widely as he approaches the three of you, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he walks quickly on the uneven ground and Javier holds out his hand in case he has to catch him.

“Careful, Muchacho (young man),” Javier chuckles, “You might scare them away if you trip.” 

“I found the biggest frog ever!” Lucas brags and falls into his father’s embrace, throwing his arms around his neck, “I want to show you!”

Javier looks at you to silently ask if you need him. Lucas presses on, “Come on, Dad!”

Inés fusses a little at being woken up by the noises around her. You take the stuffed animal and wiggle it in the air in front of her. You start singing again. It is something about meadows and daisies, something about being warm and kept from harm. 

“Go,” you stop briefly to urge him, “We’ll be here when you come back.”

And as Javier gets up from the ground and takes his son’s hand, he smiles because he knows that you will.

.

.

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

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 (i guess)

okay. let's be honest. i have a huge problem with imposter syndrome, for years. no matter what i do and what the results are - my inner critic has her hands full. but this little beast @gothcsz tagged me in something i've been following for a while now and i finally came out from under the blanket.

i started writing as a kid. it allowed me to escape from reality. sometimes i wrote more, and sometimes i had a few years off (yes, i'm old!). now i'm back here.

am i proud of myself? sometimes. i've gotten used to the fact that what i like doesn't always please my readers. but i try to develop, learn new things and i love it when we meet somewhere halfway. i wish i could be more open to you, but it's fucking hard.

however i appreciate every second you spent reading what i write, thank you for every comment, every remark, every feedback. it's like a sign from the universe that there is life on the other side and i'm not crazy. ♥️

my favourite fanfics/oneshots from this year:

✤ General Marcus Acacius

nymph (series) if i am happy with something it is this. Marcus Acacius and Nymph. i like writing these two characters. they remind me of greek and roman myths that i read as a child. but despite everything there are times when it is hard for me to write it.

the favourite of gods (oneshot) I have no explanation for this. I was carried away by the moment when I wrote it. Am I the only one who is into the mythological, fairy-tale, mystical part of antiquity? Yes, I am bad at it. But I wrote it. And I like it.

✤ Joel Miller

the anniversary (oneshot) I never thought that something I experienced (I mean forgetting our anniversary, not sex with Joel) would be read with interest. I think I like it, although I sometimes get sad when I see a new reaction to this story in my notifications

broken trust [part 1][part 2][part 3][part 4][part 5] [epilogue] (series) this is something long that i didn't think i'd finish writing. i'm proud of it. i really like when female characters are independent and strong. that's how i wanted her to be seen. i know it's not perfect, but there are a few moments in there that i really like and i've been working on them for a long time.

short stories from life. (short stories) here I wanted to try something new, something between a series and oneshots. because sometimes there's an idea in your head, but you don't want to create a whole long story for it. did I succeed? it's an experiment. I'm testing it on myself. you're safe.

✤ Javi Gutierrez

inhale, exhale (oneshot) I know that many people who read this identified with it. Me too. I wrote with the thought - I wish there was someone next to me in moments like these, who would help me get through this. do I have tears in my eyes right now? yes, and I'm not ashamed of it. situations like this suck. (tw: panic attacks)

✤Javier Peña

you in my eyes [1][2] I started this recently, but I have great pleasure writing it. why did I put it here? because I like it. i can write this story for myself, that's okay too. It's something new for me, something that allows me to think differently.

and...

💔 a few ways to break your heart 💔 [masterlist]

❤️‍ broken hearts seek redemption ❤️‍ [ masterlist]

this really got to me. really. there are characters for whom angst is easy to write, and there are those for whom your heart breaks when you have to write something bad. I approach what I write quite personally, I know I shouldn't. breaking a heart was relatively easy, mending it - no. I survived it, and so did they.

I read these writers

People I follow, love, adore, and wish I could support every day because they're amazing, beautiful, talented, authentic, empathetic, open-minded, creative, and so much more. ♥️

@gothcsz @sanarsi @stylesispunk @mothandpidgeon @morallyinept @punkshort @toomanystoriessolittletime @604to647 @oonajaeadira @iamasaddie @auteurdelabre @milla-frenchy @alwayslurkinginthebackground @javierpena-inatacvest @notjustjavierpena @theetherealbloom @baronessvonglitter @insomniamamma @hiddenzev @joelmillerisapunk

If any of you would like to praise yourself, please do so.

PS. did I do it right?