I’m here to ramble, mostly repost and read but occasionally I like to put out some of my own thoughts.
I’m a big Valeria lover!! <33 Valeria lovers follow me
I also like Arcane, Genshin, shinning/infinity Nikki, Anime; Land of lustrous, Cyberpunk edge runner, Princess jellyfish, AOT, (Donghua) MXTX. Love and deepspace, obey me. Probably more I can’t remember
I’m a lesbian and I’ll be reposting nsfw on here so…MEN AND MDNI (+ageless blogs)
ADVERTENCIAS: Homophobia, Family rejection, Emotional abuse, Small town prejudice, Toxic environment, Closeted relationship, Angst
You haven't seen her in years.
In high school, you were inseparable, always joking around, sneaking off to the bathroom between classes for little kisses.
She was your first time for everything.
First kiss. First real love. First time.
Your relationship, if you could even call it that, was a secret. You lived in a small town, and gossip spread like wildfire.
Sneaky kisses in the back bathroom of the high school until the prefect caught you. Valeria was furious.
The principal, the prefect, and even the school psychologist wanted to expel you both for inappropriate behavior.
Disgusted looks burned into your skin as Valeria took your hand under the desk. When the psychologist noticed, she started yelling.
Everything spiraled out of control so fast, and it all happened at once.
The psychologist was shouting hurtful things. The principal picked up the phone to call your parents, and the prefect was trying to reason with you, arguing that what you were doing was against God.
Valeria stood up and hit the psychologist.
Everything went silent.
"How dare you, little girl?!"
The principal didn't even get a chance to dial. She slammed the receiver against the base of the phone and glared at Valeria with a mixture of hatred, disgust, and anger.
I wish you could hide Valeria from those stares, hide and run away… you heard Mexico City is more liberal about these things, maybe…
Maybe, just maybe, you and Valeria could run away there.
"Shut up. Do they do this to any student? What about Kevin and Janet? The prefect saw them kissing behind the computer lab and only gave them a scolding. Why is it different with us?"
You're downcast and tears sting your eyes, they feel hot, your cheeks burn.
"This isn't right, it's against nature. We'll call her parents, not yours, Valeria. We know you don't matter enough to them."
"Don't call my parents, please… no… we didn't do anything wrong…"
They do. They call your parents and in a few days, the whole town will know. Your friends drifted away, your parents force you to go to Mass every Sunday and Wednesday afternoon.
They don't even talk to you; they're too ashamed and constantly insist to anyone who will listen that Valeria incited you to do it. She turned you away from God.
Everyone at school knew Valeria was an atheist; she was always clear about it, so it's not hard for others to believe she did it so you'd go to hell with her.
It's not true. Vale didn't force you to do anything.
They won't let you see her. The principal won't expel you, or Valeria, but she'll move you both to different classrooms. Different classes, different dismissal times, and all you have are stolen moments. Late-night calls when your parents are asleep.
She sneaks out of the house and calls from pay phones so they won't find out.
It's not safe. The town isn't safe at night, and you both know it, but Valeria insists she needs you like the air she breathes.
Things don't change much at high school. You do get into the only high school in town together, but even the administration there keeps you apart.
It seems they can't forget. They weren't doing anything wrong.
They didn't kill anyone, they didn't hurt anyone. Those who do aren't looked at differently. It doesn't matter if Don Pedro killed Doña Juanita; he's still free and accepted everywhere. He goes to church and lives his life normally. He wasn't banned from anywhere, and he didn't go to jail. There were no consequences.
You did face consequences. You were kicked off the women's gymnastics team, and Valeria isn't allowed back on the soccer team.
The best way to stop them from treating you strangely is to stay quiet and lower your head. Valeria doesn't understand that; she always responds with sarcasm and rudeness to anyone brave enough to insult her in front of her.
Eventually, they stop insulting Valeria… but not you. They just stop making cutting remarks around her.
"Valeria, please stop! You're not going to convince me to stay."
You're crying. It seems you've been doing that a lot lately. You don't know how you still have tears left to cry.
"No! No, why? Why do you want to leave, preciosa?"
She kneels down and gently wipes away your tears, a gentleness that only you can draw from her.
“Because everyone hates us, Vale! My parents won’t even look me in the eye anymore, Pastor Rodriguez insists on talking to me privately after mass, and my friends… My friends talk behind my back. Please, let’s leave. I have enough money for a bus trip to Mexico City; we can go and start a life there.”
“I won’t leave. I can’t. I’m not going to run away like I’ve done something wrong. I didn’t, and I’m not leaving.”
“Then I’ll leave alone!”
You shout desperately.
You can’t stay in that town. It’s… it’s suffocating. Everyone stares at you. Your friends push you aside and fall silent when you approach.
“I’m leaving tonight, and… and I wish you had agreed to come with me.”
Valeria steps back as if you had slapped her, and suddenly her eyes fill with tears.
“Are you leaving?”
“I’m sorry, Vale, I can’t… I can’t anymore.”
You cup her cheeks and kiss her.
It's a wet kiss, but not a fun one. You’re both crying, and it’s an awkward kiss.
That night, in silence. You pack your most precious belongings and escape in the early morning without waking your parents. Valeria is at the bus station; she has no suitcases or even a backpack.
Your last hopes of her joining you die at that moment.
“Will you come back?”
She’s very close, she takes your hips and presses her forehead to your temple, you do the same and take her by the waist.
The bus station is almost empty. Only a sleepy employee watches television behind the counter.
“…”
There are no words, you can’t make promises you’re not sure you can keep, and you don’t want to give her false hope.
The call for the bus saves you from having to answer; your only ticket to freedom is about to depart, so you kiss her one last time.
It’s a kiss that leaves you both breathless before you climb the bus steps and find your seat.
You can see her through the window. Her hands are in her pockets, and the necklace with your initial hangs from her neck.
That’s the last time you see her.
The last thing you heard from her was that she joined the army a few months after you left.
She was 17, born in September a year before you, so you were in the same school year.
She joined the army and apparently served for six years before disappearing into thin air. She was presumed lost in action.
That was five years ago.
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I disappeared for about two months because I focused all my attention on a longer fanfic that isn't COD and is now in AO3. I'll try to post more about COD more often.
Warnings: Institutional & social homophobia, murder, kidnapping, firearms, and cartel/organized crime environment.
Note: Features dark romance, morally grey themes, and a tragic atmosphere. Reader discretion is advised (+18).
This is part two and there will be a part three.
Part one
Valeria would be 27 now. Every year on her birthday, you buy a small chocolate cake and light a candle. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people are in your life, she left a void that nothing can fill.
If only you had been braver, if only you hadn't run away…
If you had stayed, maybe she wouldn't have enlisted. There are many "what ifs," but "what if" doesn't exist.
Today you're back in the place you swore you'd never set foot in again.
Las Almas.
It's not the same place anymore. It's still a stupid, godforsaken town, only now the drug cartels seem to have taken over.
The streets are emptier, there are abandoned houses covered in graffiti with boarded-up windows, and armed men where children used to play soccer. They're the same children who played there, only now they have guns.
You're here because your father died.
Apparently, he took out a loan and was stupid enough not to pay it back. You don't mess with the narcos, and he thought he was so clever.
Your mother still can't look at you, this time for a different reason. She's resentful because you ran away ten years ago, and she still hasn't gotten over it. Your brothers barely speak to you; your mother filled their heads with lies about you, and you haven't seen your younger sister. No one will tell you where she is.
You notice it on the third day.
A man has been following you since you arrived; anxiety gnaws at your chest. He follows you to your mother's house, to the hotel where you're staying, to the restaurants you visit, and everywhere you go.
You're everywhere except your mother's house.
Everyone is walking behind the hearse in the sun. Your black clothes are only making you feel hotter. At the cemetery, you see a woman in the distance, dressed entirely in black, with short, shoulder-length hair, but you can't see her face; it's covered by a semi-transparent black cloth. There are two men beside her.
You don't know who she is. You simply place a bouquet of flowers your brothers forced you to buy on the gravestone and leave before anyone can stop you.
You walk past the woman, whose scent is familiar, a smell you'd recognize anywhere.
Not a random perfume you could buy at any store, something more specific. A scent that couldn't be recreated.
You don't turn around, you can't get your hopes up. Maybe it's just someone with a similar scent.
You can't help it.
You turn around, the woman has her back to you now, but you'll recognize that tattoo above her elbow anywhere. It's faded now, the ink looks old, as if it hasn't been touched up, but you know it.
After all, you did the design. In a chemistry class years ago, you played with your markers and drew a phoenix on Valeria's arm. The next day, and every day after, she wore long sleeves to hide it from the prefects.
"Valeria?"
Her name barely leaves your lips, but you lose sight of her as everyone starts pouring out of the cemetery. Even now, years later, society still keeps you away from her.
You never see her again. No matter how much you search, you start to believe it was a hallucination. As you said goodbye to your father at his funeral, your mind conjured up a vivid image of Valeria, her face covered because you don't know what she looked like as she aged.
At the same time, you know she was there; you smelled her.
You draw the phoenix from her tattoo in your notebooks, but it never looks right.
It's like you're chasing ghosts. It gets to the point where it keeps you up at night.
After another horrible night of insomnia, you look at the clock.
5 AM
Okay… sure.
You kick off the covers and get up to get dressed. If you weren't going to sleep, at least you could go for a run or see how much the town has changed since you left.
You walk for hours; the sun is at its brightest and highest point.
You head toward the mountains, where you and Valeria used to hide, where years ago you buried a wooden box with locks of her hair and photographs at the base of a tree.
“Hey, muchacha. Where are you going, mija? It's really bad over there… the drug cartels took over that land a long time ago.”
You turn to see the man sitting on the sidewalk with a cooler next to him outside a grocery store. You're near the last houses in town before reaching the mountains.
“What?”
As you get closer, you realize it's Don Salome, an old friend of your grandfather. He doesn't recognize you. Why would he? You were too young when you ran away; that scared little girl is nothing anymore.
“Don’t go there. They don’t ask questions, they just shoot. Doña Cristi’s son went there looking for work in the other town… they shot him. You should have seen what they did to him, the poor guy looked like a sieve.”
God. The violence really did grow like a poisonous ivy…
“Thanks for letting me know, sir. I’m just… I’m just going to walk. I don’t want any trouble.”
“It’s not that. If they see you, they’ll think you’re in the army or something. They’ll kill you.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll go home. Thanks for letting me know, Uncle Salome.”
He’s not your uncle, not really. But he was so close that it was practically as if he were.
As you walk away, you think you hear him whisper your name in surprise.
You don't return until later that night. In the early hours of the morning.
You only want your box, the box you two shared. There are no photos of Valeria, you don't have any; your little phone from those years didn't have a camera. At the town fair, there was a stall that took photos and turned them into keychains for twenty pesos.
You gave the man one hundred pesos; he gave you two photos and a keychain.
In the mountains, there are no lights, nothing but the moon to illuminate the way, and it's not enough.
You carry a small flashlight in addition to your phone. Your body remembers the path as if it were muscle memory; you remember it even though more than ten years have passed.
You haven't even gone halfway when you see it in the distance.
A beautiful house rises on the hill.
A beautiful house, but surrounded by armed men.
A hand grabs your bicep too tightly, dragging you closer to the armed men.
You struggle with whoever is grabbing you, obviously, but they're stronger and bigger than you.
Too fast, you end up with a sack over your head and everything goes black.
You hear people talking above your head, but you can't understand what they're saying.
Maybe you have tinnitus, or maybe the blood is rushing through your ears—you don't know.
They move you from place to place until you don't know where you are, you can't see, you can't hear. They've deprived you of your senses.
“What are you doing, idiots?”
Valeria enters the interrogation room. González called her, saying her soul had disappeared, that he'd lost sight of her.
Later, Ayala called, saying they had a soldier or a voyeur in custody—a woman.
It wasn't hard for her to put two and two together.
Her soul had always been very curious.
“Ma'am, we found this woman wandering around; she had a camera.”
Valeria snatches the supposed camera from one of her men.
It's a square flashlight, and she realizes it's actually a purple power bank covered in stickers.
It looks feminine, almost childish, and the contrast between the dried blood under her fingernails and the pastel purple color is ridiculous.
She closes her eyes and counts to three. Sometimes she wondered why she kept recruiting idiots.
“Where is she?”
“This way, ma'am.”
She hears a couple of men celebrating behind her. Apparently, they're excited by the live executions and torture.
They're so bloodthirsty it's disgusting, but she can't get rid of them. The business is sustained by the people who keep it running.
When she arrives at the room where her beloved is, the first thing she notices is the bruise on her right bicep and the blood running from her slightly swollen nose.
"Who the hell hit her?"
Her beloved is injured and unconscious.
González enters the room behind Valeria.
"Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I… I was watching her from across the street at the hostel where she's staying. She must have left through the back door…"
Valeria doesn't want to hear his excuses; she's seeing red at the sight of her beloved like this.
She pulls the pistol from her waistband and fires near the man's head. The bullet grazed her ear, drawing blood, and left a hole in the wooden door.
González stops speaking, stops moving, even stops breathing.
She clenches her jaw. Then she lowers the gun.
“Get out of here before I change my mind. Everyone go. NOW!”
Her men, too terrified to stay, flee. They practically trample each other.
Firing inside a closed room was never a good idea. Valeria avoided it most of the time, but sometimes it was necessary.
The room now smelled of gunpowder, and her ears rang from the gunshot as she moved closer to her soul.
Each step she took in her direction brought her clarity; she could inhale her scent.
She smelled like home.
She knelt and swiftly untied her from the chair. Her beloved's body collapsed against her, offering no resistance.
She is so happy to be strong now, to be able to carry her without difficulty.
So many years in the army, longing and yearning to have her close, to protect her.
The gods heard her prayers.
Death heard her and gave her the greatest gift in the world.
Now she has her woman back, and she will die before they are separated.
Now she has the power to burn the entire town, as she wanted to do years ago, and she will not hesitate.
English is not my first language and I apologize if there are any mistakes.
Warnings: Cam!girl!Sevika, Cam!girl!reader, kind of simp Sevika (she doesn't show it but...), sexual acts performed on camera for money, exhibitionism, fingering (r!receiving), praise kink, pussy slaps, squirting.
"Ain't she a pretty little thing..." Ambessa nudges Sevika's arm as she holds up her phone, there you were on the screen in a pale pink lingerie set, the panties soaked with a dark pink patch letting out the sweetest, high pitched moans as your viewers pay to control the vibrating egg stuffed deep in your weeping cunt. "Mhm, too sweet to be doin' this shit. Why are you showing me this?"
Ambessa shrugs and sends the link through to Sevika's phone. "Thought you two could collab, you know, considering you're both in the same profession, but if it does well... I want a cut." She calls out calmy before leaving the room. Sevika could absolutely agree you were gorgeous, and she'd have a hell of a time ruining you... though there was a part of her deep down that wanted to keep you all to herself.
Sevika was a 'cam girl' herself though she hated the term. There was a dire need for muscley butches in the cam space and she was more than happy to fill the void. Most of the cam girls were pretty little femmes -like you- which wasn't a bad thing, it left her with the horny, perverted leasbians who loved butches... which was a lot.
After a few weeks of messaging back and fourth, you decided maybe a collab with Sevika wouldn't be a bad thing... your viewers had only ever seen you in lingerie- they'd never seen you bare. And what better way to reveal yourself than collaborating with another well known camstar?
"Come in, please, make yourself at home." God she couldn't do this. Here you were welcoming her into your home, your space, wearing only a silk pink robe and clearly some very skimpy lace underneath.
"Lookin' good, doll. I won't lie to you... I've been counting down the days." She walks in further, leaning against the wall in the hallway which most likely lead to your bedroom. That bedroom. With the soft pink sheets, probably smelling of you- which she loved. Vanilla with a hint of chocolate.
"Couldn't wait to get your hands on me huh?" You giggle, walking closer to her as you joke. But Sevika wasn't joking, she literally couldn't wait to get her hands on you, she needed it like she needed air to breathe.
⊹˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
"Isn't she so beautiful? Look at this prettly little cunt... so wet for us isn't she?" Sevika had you sat back against her chest, legs spread over her own thighs to keep them pried open. The camera and ring light stood at the foot of the bed, giving your viewers a perfect view of you all spread open.
Her fingers run through your folds before she held them apart, exposing your throbbing clit and clenching hole to the camera. "Mmph look at it..." you nervously giggle through a moan, though the comments were very validating. People were happy, and so were you.
"Yeah you look so perfect, doll. Soaked and desperate aren't ya? Should I give her what she wants?" You watch the laptop off to the side with Sevika, the donations and messages all flood in at the same time. Some requesting Sevika to use toys on you, others wanting her to use her bare hands.
"Look at that one..." you point to a $200 donation for Sevika to finger you until you squirt, even if it takes multiple orgasms for you to do so. She kisses your temple as her fingers start to move. Slow, deliberate. Tracing your folds with the tips of her fingers lightly already felt so good, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing, needy for her fingers. "That's the one, I've watched your videos, you ain't ever squirted before have ya? We'll change that little dollie."
She ignored all of the comments of people who were recognising her- that wasn't why she was here. Honestly the only reason she was here was to get her hands on you...
The minute Sevika sinks two of her long, thick fingers into your hole you let out one of the most whoreish moans she'd ever heard, it was beautiful. "Oh my g-god!-" Instantly your cunt clenched around her fingers, trapping them inside in fear she would take them away. Instead of pumping them in and out, she hooks them upwards, massaging your g-spot gently, earning her the prettiest little moans she'd ever heard. "That's it doll, let 'em hear how good my fingers feel. Bet they're all wishing it was them huh?"
You couldn't focus on anything other than her fingers which she'd slowly started to pump in and out of your sopping hole. Each pump of her fingers dragged against your inner walls deliciously, eliciting small whimpers and moans. "M-more... please more..." You wanted more, you wanted it faster, harder.
She chuckles, pressing another surprisingly soft kiss to your temple, watching your pussy through the laptop- it was beautiful. Glistening folds hugging your hole which was stretched beautifully around her digits which were now also dripping with your arousal. "Shhh, I'll give you more soon. Cum for me like this and ill give you more dollie. Be a good girl for me come on."
Seviak let's out a low groan agaisnt your skin as you tighten around her digits from the praise. And all of her self control leaves her body, she had to feel you tighten around her like that while you came. "Goood girl, there we go, cum for me baby- that's it, that's it..." Despite telling you she wouldn't give it to you harder, she did. Speeding up her thrusts she curls her fingers upwards as her fingers pummel your poor little cunt.
"Fuuuck! Mmph f-fuck I'm cumming! I'm cumminggg!" You cry out, hips twitching and thighs shaking as you let go, pussy clamping around her fingers as the waves of pleasure wash over you. As your whole body twitches, shaking as Sevika works you through it,the sight was nothing like she'd ever seen, and she was pretty sure you were too far gone to realise you'd already squirt all over the bed.
"Well ain't that a sight? My good girl squirting so pretty for you all so quickly. I think that earns her a reward, don't you?" She never stops, her fingers sliding out of you only to start slowly rubbing your clit as you come down. Your hips jerk at the oversensitivity but you never try to pull away- it felt far too good.
"Mmm... g-give me money..." you joke weakly, earning yourself a slap on the cunt from Sevika. Your wetness splashes over the bed and your open thighs, and despite your joke the money comes rolling in.
"Did so good for me dollie, so good. Now let's see how many more you can give me hm?"
It's an easy fix. Rudy isn't sure if he likes women, Valeria isn't sure if she likes men, and neither of them are willing to explore that part of themself.
But in the military, they both need a cover to ensure their heterosexuality under the prying gaze of others. And so, they turn to each other.
Drunk, handsy, and all over each other. The picture of attraction.
Valeria's lip gloss ends up smeared over his lips and chin; it's burgundy and smells like cocoa powder. Rudy tries to focus on the sticky, tacky feeling instead of how he yearns for stubble brushing against his face.
Neither of them talks about it when Valeria's hand trails under his shirt to grope at breasts that aren't there, when she pushes his pecs together and nips at his earlobe with her eyes closed, imagining someone else under her hands.
Not a word is exchanged, but it gets far more enjoyable when Rudy buries his face in Valeria's neck and smells the cologne that Alejandro had complained was missing only hours prior. Valeria moans in his ear when her hands slip under his waistband, and her fingers skim lace.
Need him curled up on his bed, waiting for painkillers to kick in after a long day of being irritated at Alejandro any time the man so much as sniffled. Pissed off, aching and utterly fucking ravenous.
Only for Alejandro to walk in with takeout and suddenly Rudy thinks the man may be permitted to exist around him and even do so loudly if he should please.
valeria's lips are pressed against your ear, whispering dirty into your ear, making your pussy clench. your thighs are slotted between one of hers, your clothed cunt dragging sweetly against the fabric of her jeans. you missed her so much at home, you couldn't help but sneak in and visit her! :(
with one hand on your lower back and the other on your waist, she guides your movements, causing you to whine and drop your forehead against her shoulder.
however, the tone shifts immediately when you hear three hard knocks on her office door. your head lifts, eyes widen. valeria's hands still, but she makes no attempt to push you off. if anything, she pulls you closer.
one of her various accountants carefully saunters in, her arms carrying a thick, label-less binder. your face burns hot and red with embarrassment. you pray the worker can't see the obvious wet stain on valeria's jeans.
she speaks quickly and respectfully, obviously wanting to get it over with. your so fixated on your embarrassment that you don't even notice valeria's hands guiding your hips into slow grinding again. not until a certain drag of her thigh against your clit do you let out a small whimper. your breath is shaky from holding in your moans.
"valeria." you plead. "not now."
she doesn't listen. (because when does she ever?) your lower stomach tensed with the building of your pleasure causing you to whimper and writhe. you feel humiliated, your forehead and cheeks slick with sweat from your face burning up.
before you realize it, your climaxing all over her leg. your lower lip bleeding from how bad you were biting it to (unsucessfully) contain your sounds.
you glance over your shoulder to find the accountant already out, the door closing softly behind her.
"i hate you.." you grumbled, panting. valeria's shoulders shake with her soft chuckles.
Alejandro's family are warm and welcoming, like the soft light of a dim bulb in a childhood home.
They're loud, boisterous. There's always a voice filling the silence, regaling someone with the tale of their day or discussing whatever film is flashing across the screen of their TV. Their home is full of footsteps, heavy and old or young and dangerously fast for a home with so many breakable ornaments.
Alejandro's mother is gracious. Hair more grey than it is coloured, soft brown eyes and gentle hands. She murmurs a quiet prayer for patience whenever the sound of her adult children arguing dances through the hallways, but she does so with a smile.
Alejandro's father is amiable. Often found with a grandchild perched on his knee, as he persuades them to hand over a stray screw for a piece of candy that he ensured he wouldn't give them before dinner time. The man has one good working ear and refuses to get a hearing aid for the other out of a familiar obstinacy.
In their relationship, family is unilateral.
Rudy has nothing to offer. No home with wallpaper that's been outdated for over a decade. No childhood bedroom cluttered with memorabilia that helps decipher the person he has grown into. No one to chastise him for the array of scars he collects and resists hiding.
His childhood is a revolving door of faces he can't put a name to, the older he gets. Of impersonal compassion that only a child without parents can ever truly describe. A benevolence without nurturing, accommodation without companionship.
The closest he ever gets to taking Alejandro home, in any sense of the word, is sitting on a pew at the very back of Mass. Sitting thigh to thigh with the other man as a priest, he doesn't recognise recites a spiel about unity under God.
The only father Rudy has ever known is a man mentioned in a sermon, and the only mother he ever felt for was the woman who knew the agony of losing someone to said father's will.
The brightest memory of his childhood was watching the rays of sunlight shine through stained glass and appreciating the beauty of Mary and her loss. It dulled his own loss in comparison; his suffering wasn't worthy of art, it was simply a shared tale among orphans.
Alejandro has his mother's eyes. His father's nose. The same bark of laughter, head thrown back to flash the room pearly white teeth as his sisters.
The only thing Rudy has of his parents is the cross that hangs around his neck, tucked under the collar of his shirt. Not even that belongs to him; not when it's the emblem of something known worldwide.
While truly his own person, with nothing to show for his parents, he remains to be noone's son.
