#they just don't care enough to actually make it possible to block that shit by using consistent tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-literally-cant-with-this · 4 months

Text

A/N ♕ This is gaudy as shit and I don't care. Idk. There may be inconsistencies with the story, so, sorry. I've been working on this all day. 8 pages on Google Docs so you're in for a read. Good stuff starts at page 3 (mind you, this is from Google Docs perspective.) I read, reread, rereread, rerereread, rererereread .... until I couldn't. This is a little headcanon-y and a little fic-y. It's just what I was feeling. I know you know what to do if there's anything horribly wrong. For real, though. This is so fucking long I never want to see my laptop again.

C/W ♕ Unprotected P->V, F->M & M->F Oral, M->eating his cum (sorta) from F, kinda rough sex but they like it. I'm so brain dead right now that I can't remember everything. Soft broken Hanma eventually. I like you, no shit? I like you too. Kiss kiss. Snooze snooze. Happy happy.

Funsies ♕ A link of the playlist I made while I was writing this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't think the read will exhaust the playlist so pick any song you want and it should, theoretically work at any point?

WC ♕ 3,915 (ISH - I change things once I get it here on Tumblr, but it's around that.

♕ You'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of Hanma's bike with him.

♕ He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking you home. You weren't even his responsibility.

♕ But it was a favor for one of his captains.

♕ Hanma put his helmet on you, tightening the strap under your chin carefully so he wouldn't pinch your delicate skin.

♕ He was so pissed when he noticed how pretty your eyes were, staring so intently back into his. He had to shake himself out of the distraction.

♕ "You're not wearing a helmet, Shuji?" You asked.

♕ "This's the only one I have, obviously. And you're going to wear it, got it?" He was so adamant about that.

♕ He got you settled in the helmet and threw his leg over his bike. Looking at you impatiently, waiting for you to get on, he put his hand out and you took it.

♕ You hopped on behind him and wrapped your arms around his straight waistline. And you're not sure if your heart skipped a beat because you were so nervous about being on the back of a motorcycle with him for the first time or if it was how you felt with your cheek pressed to his back

♕ He also noticed how nice your arms felt wrapped around him. He turned his head before he took off and told you you'd better hold on tighter, he doesn't drive like a 30 year old.

♕ Hanma thought he turned his head enough from your line of vision before he smiled. But you saw it.

♕ So you did what he asked and squeezed him tighter, pressing your chest harder against his back.

♕ He started the engine and the vibrations sent shockwaves throughout your cunt body like you've never experienced.

♕ Both you and Hanma thought it wasn't possible for you to get any closer to him, but you both somehow managed to impress the other.

♕ He was at a stoplight about 3 blocks from your house and he reached back to give your thigh a little pat.

♕ "Hold on to me, hana. I'm gonna go like hell when I see that light turn green."

♕ His hand stayed on your thigh even after he took off. Stayed there for so long, actually, that you were getting concerned about the upcoming turn in the road. But he pulled his hand forward just in time to take it with ease.

♕ The wind against your face that carried his scent - which you could NOT place, (Sandlewood? Cedar? It was DELICIOUS to say the least) was starting to make you feel drunk.

♕ You could just barely hear the music playing through the small (but strangely loud) speakers --- Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), Deftones. You had heard the song before and liked it but now it held a certain heaviness over you. Everything about this moment felt right. The night was warm. The stars were out.

♕ How the fuck had you not realized this before?

♕ Hanma is ... he's fucking sexy.

♕ He pulled up to your place and he stopped the bike, letting it idle while sitting in your driveway.

♕ "Ok, you have arrived at your destination. You're welcome, for the ride of your life." He seemed a little more lighthearted now than when he first was roped into taking you home.

♕ "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Um, thanks. Do you - maybe ... want some ..." you just couldn't fucking talk. He looked so handsome in the soft yellow lights that lined the street.

♕ "You got some food? I could eat, yeah." He kicked the bike stand out and turned it off and reached up to remove his helmet from your head.

♕ If he missed the blush that washed over your face he'd have to be a blind man. But you noticed a faint smile on him, too. So you think he caught it.

♕ "What do you feel like? I just went shopping and I'm fully stocked." You stood with your back to him, he was in the living room looking around at the shit you had all over your walls. Weird art that made him feel things. Stuff he's never thought himself capable of feeling - not bad things, either. But new things.

♕ And you felt comfortable with all of this. Knowing he was in another room than you. Except, he wasn't in the living room anymore. He was right fucking behind you. You stopped to look up into the cupboard you stood in front of to see what was there, if it was easy and quick to fix up.

♕ He reached out and traced the curve of your waist and leaned in, putting his face to the back of your head. "You going to feed me, y/n?"

♕ Your first thought was who's going to perform CPR on your right now because you're about to die. His breath was so hot on the back of your neck you were able to document the time that your heart actually stopped beating for a second.

♕ Hanma put his hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms. When he got to your wrists, he pulled them behind your back more roughly than you've ever been touched by any man before.

♕ And he's so much taller than you, so he has to bend over so he can talk right into your ear.

♕ "I'm sure it's ready for me to eat right now. Not much prep is going to be required. I guess, in a way, you could almost call it fast food?" He yanked you so you were standing up straight and your back was flush with his front.

♕ You didn't know what to do with your hands so you just left them where he placed them. He had his free hand back on your waist, squeezing and exploring.

♕ "I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad as I do right now, hana." He said, letting his fingers dip lower and lower. You threw your head back and it fit into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

♕ You couldn't help but think he was such a fucking gentleman, waiting for your permission before he took anything. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head to kiss him. "Then take ... take it. Take what you want, Shuji. Take it all."

♕ Hanma's hand went back up to your throat and squeezed just enough to make you gasp.

♕ He leaned around and pressed his mouth to the corners of your lips, teasing you into giving yourself fully over to the kiss and sliding his tongue down your jawline to your neck. Ending up at your ear once more.

♕ "Good girl, hana. You're so wet for me right now, I can fucking smell it. Tell me what you want me to take. Hm? You want me to take you? You're going to be so good for me. Or maybe not? Maybe you're just going to be a nasty ... little ... bitch. I think I'd like to see that. This sweet girl act you put on. I've seen you walking around like you're just the best thing around here. Well? You going to prove that to me, hana? Huh?" He said, his voice dropping an octave as he ran his hand down your stomach and dipped his fingers into your panties.

♕ He moaned into your ear, "Oh fuck, hana. You're dripping for me. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

♕ He turned you around more roughly than he had to and hoisted you onto the counter, yanking your pants down and kneeling down before you, inhaling your scent. Deeply.

♕ Hanma looked up at you with such fire in his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He traced his finger over your pussy, feeling your wetness before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the same invisible line his finger forged on your trembling skin.

♕ You arched your back and gasped as he brushed his lips against your thighs. You could feel how heavy his breathing had gotten. He pushed one finger passed your folds, then two, and you could feel yourself tightening around him.

♕ "Shu, f-fuck. Please, I need ... I need ..."

♕ He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised. "What do you need, hana. Use your words."

♕ You reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up to your face. "I ... fuck me, Shuji." You kissed him, tasting yourself on him.

♕ Hanma didn't waste a second. He pulled you off the counter and dragged you into your bedroom. You turned around and yanked at his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops all at once and threw it across the room, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

♕ He leaned you over the bed, spreading your legs and reaching up to squeeze your ass. You looked back at him, wanting him to fill you up.

♕ Hanma rubbed his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. "Shuji just ... just fuck me."

♕ You were so whiny and needy. It was making him so hard. He wanted to fuck you right then and there. To give you what you were so desperately and metaphorically, on your knees for.

♕ But the sadist in him, found it hard to acknowledge your pleas so soon. He didn't want you to work for this, per se. But he wanted to make good and damn sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So what if he had to deny himself instant gratification. The look on your sweet, flushed face was already worth having to drag this out.

♕ "You've been so good for me, hana. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. But I don't want you to come too soon." He said, smirking as he pulled you back to your feet and turned you around, pressing his hands into your shoulders until you were on your knees.

♕ Hanma reached down and pulled his cock out of his boxers and he patted your chin a few times. Urging your mouth to open so he could slap it on your tongue before pushing his tip into your mouth. You let him guide you as you took him down your throat. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you struggled to take him all the way in.

♕ "Fuck, y/n. Look at you. Taking me like a good little slut. I knew you were going to act like a little bitch in heat. Choking down my cock like that." He praised you through gritted teeth. Despite sounding so volatile, it made you feel so good to be used by him this way.

♕ He pulled out of your mouth and pushed you back onto the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and guided his tip into you, slowly pushing himself in until he was all the way inside you.

♕ Hanma held himself there for a minute, feeling you tighten around him. He started moving again, in and out of you.

♕ You felt like you were on the edge of an orgasm with every thrust. The disgusting way he used you for his own pleasure and the way he spoke to you was driving you mad.

♕ "Shuji, fuck ... I'm gonna cum."

♕ He pulled out and turned you onto your back. He spread your legs apart and leaned over you, pushing himself back inside you and pressing his lips to yours.

♕ "Yeah? How close? How close are you?" He dragged his teeth over your ear and on down to your visibly beating pulse point and left a purple mark in his wake. You clenched up around his cock so hard when he did this that he had to stop moving and pull himself together. "Fuck! Hana! Keep that shit up and this is over. I'm fucking finished."

♕ He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass wasn't helping you hold off cumming all over him. You felt your orgasm building up inside you. You reached down to rub your clit, but he saw where your fingers were aiming and he brushed your hand aside and started rubbing soft circles on it for you. It made you moan - the most whorish, slutty sound you have ever let out.

♕ It was out of your control at this point. His dick pounding inside of you, hitting all the right spots at all the right times was making you more cock-drunk than you have ever felt. If you could even consider yourself aware of anything other than his golden eyes burning holes into yours and the rise and fall of his hips against your spread legs.

♕ Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly. The thought crossed your mind that you were made for each other. But that's ridiculous. Hanma hates you. Right? He didn't even want to take you home. So why, then, is he balls deep inside of you right now. Don't fucking ask, you thought to yourself. Doing any and every little thing you could to stave off your imminent crash.

♕ He could see your eyes start to roll back and he knew what was happening. He pressed his thumb harder against your clit and started circling it faster.

♕ "Cum for me, hana. Show me how much you wanted this, how much you wanted my cock inside of you." He sucked on your nipple as he fucked you. Balancing over you on his left hand, his right hand still trifling with your pulsing clit. You tried to buck up against him for any extra stimulation but he only pulled back. "Aht! I make you cum. You ... you let me. Understand, hana? I ... make ... you ... cum." He growled through his clenched jaw directly into your ear. Punctuating each word with driving his hips harder and harder against you.

♕ You couldn't hold it in anymore. You came so hard and you didn't even care that he was watching you so closely. You let your body relax and gave in to the moment. You'd pretty much checked out mentally, but whatever connection remained between your brain and your body was otherworldly. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. It was so thick and long. Nothing like you imagined it would be by just looking at his tall, thin frame. (But aren't those guys always the wildcard?) It was all you could focus on.

♕ Hanma was ready to cum, too. He pulled out of you and turned you over onto your stomach again. He slapped his wet cock against your ass before pushing back into your pussy, making you moan into the sheets.

♕ You were still twitching against him. As close as he was to blowing his sticky load of cum inside of you, as hard as his cock was twitching, he was so transfixed by how you felt around him. So fucking hot. So fucking soft. So fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn flower. Your pussy made him think of the most beautiful flower and nothing would ever change his mind about that. (And he would never figure out why - but he wondered if it had to do with the weird art in your living room).

♕ "Fuck, hana. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! You want me to cum inside this pussy? Want me to cum in my pussy, huh? Yeah? Fuck, cumming so fuck- hard, holy shit. Fuck!" Hanma came with such force, you could feel his cum pouring into you. And soon after, seeping out of you from around his cock still inside of your stretched hole. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. He didn't want to move, not yet.

♕ And he felt like it should bother him that he was still here with you. Still, physically, a part of you, as much as you were a part of him. But he couldn't think of a single reason why he should leave. Let alone why he'd want to leave.

♕ "Shu, you ... I ... well," you tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent thought just yet. "Um," it was useless. You couldn't think. So you just laid there underneath him. Feeling more and more empty with each passing second as the sadness of this being over filled you instead feeling full from Hanma. It was not a good placeholder for him. It was not feeling nearly as good as he did. And you felt like crying.

♕ Whether because it was just too much for you or it was just nothing to him. What if it were both? Shit. You're starting to cry.

♕ He felt you tremble underneath him and he rolled off of you, turning you over to face him.

♕ "Hey, what's wrong? Hana? Look at me, now. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?" He looked more concerned that irritated. And that's probably what surprised you the most. You tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin and pulled you back.

♕ "No, it's ... it's nothing. I just ... it was too much. You were too good." You said, laughing hard through the tears, wholly embarrassed by your generous assessment.

♕ "Oh, what now?" Hanma smiled and kissed you on the forehead. He reached down and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "You say I was too good? Were you even here? I mean ... I guess it's impossible for you to feel yourself. But, I guess ... I guess I'm only as good as who I'm with? And, hana," he cupped your face in his rough, slightly grease stained and scarred hand, "you were good, too."

♕ You laughed again, shaking your head. "Don't ... don't be nice to me. I can't handle it. And that's not even ... you don't have to say that to me. I know you don't like me. You can't fucking stand me. I knew all of this when I asked your captain to make you give me a ride. How embarrassing is that. I fucking am so pathetic sometimes." You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. "God. You can go. You don't have to stay. It's alright. I'm ... I'll be ... fine. I always am."

♕ Hanma sat up on his elbow, looking down at you with his brow furrowed. "Hana. I can't believe you're this stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out into the hallway.

♕ "Shuji! Who the fuck is Hana? And why do you keep calling me that? My name is-" great, now you look sad and insane.

♕ "Chill, crazy. Hana means blossom. And I think, ffffuck. Ithinkyou'reprettylikeaflowerplusyourpussyispretty." His words ran together but you heard every single separate syllable. You're pretty sure you fell in love with him a little bit, too. The fucker.

♕ He leaned over you again, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned against his mouth and reached to grab his cock, but he stopped you. "No. I wanna make you feel good. It's your turn." He kissed your neck and made his way down to your pussy, licking up his own cum that had dripped out of you. You bucked your hips up into his face, reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair.

♕ He looked up at you with wide eyes, smirking. "Hold on, hana. I got you." He sucked your clit between his lips, pressing his tongue against it and making you cry out in pleasure. He pushed two fingers into your pussy and started pumping them in and out of you, hitting your g-spot while he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

♕ "Fuck, Shu! Fuck me!" You screamed.

♕ He looked up at you with his eyelids still heavy. "That's what I'm trying to do, baby." He said, chuckling. "Just this time, it's with my mouth. Ok? So sit back and enjoy the ride." He leaned back down and continued sucking and licking and pumping you until you couldn't hold on anymore. You came for him, all over his face. And he didn't seem to mind one bit.

♕ He crawled up to you and laid beside you again. You looked over at him and smiled. "You're such an asshole. But I kind of like you."

♕ He leaned over and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him. Again. "No shit? I've liked you for a while. But I ... hell, I don't know. I guess I thought you were too good for me or something." He put his head against your chest, subconsciously counting the heartbeats coming from your body. "That's usually what people tell me. The guys and stuff. They always give me shit about anyone I like. Except ... except for you. They respect you."

♕ You nodded slowly, spacing out on the chunk of blond hair above his forehead. "Yeah, it helps having a cousin who's a captain. But Shuji, I do. I really do like you. I just wanted you to know that."

♕ Hanma looked up at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. "I know, hana. I know." He kissed you again, pulling the sheet over both of you. He didn't want you to see him get worked up. Not over you. Not emotionally. Not just yet. But he was pretty sure he was starting to fall in love with you. And that was just something he wasn't prepared for. Though he'd have to face up to it. Sooner, rather than later, he thought.

♕ He turned over onto his back and let you snuggle up next to him, throwing your arm over his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking about how much he'd like to do this again. Just like this. Just you.

♕ You reached over and turned off the lamp, laying your head against his chest and simply being in the darkened room with him. It was so easy, you thought. And you hoped it would always be that way, though you knew better than to believe that. Because Hanma was a very complicated man on the outside and inside. And you wanted to be the one who could be there to understand him. The one who could get to know him. The one who could make him laugh and cry and feel any and everything he ever wanted to feel. You wanted to be the one who'd be there to listen to anything he had to say. Softly spoken or screamed out.

♕ And that's all you wanted. To be there for him. And with him. And with him.

♕ "Good night, little hana." He said, pulling you tighter against him.

♕ "Good night, beautiful Shuji." You smiled in the darkness and drifted off to sleep.

♕ And you didn't care how much you'd regret saying it or how much you'd try to deny it. It was true. You were in love with him. And you knew it would be some time before he could admit he felt the same way. But you would give him whatever amount of time he needed.

♕ He hoped he would be worth it. Hanma wasn't necessarily a good man. He has never been called a good man. Never has he ever really felt like one.

♕ But he heard you talking to him in the morning before you got out of bed to fix the coffee. Telling him how you'd be there for him as best you could. No matter what.

♕ He thought to himself that he hoped he'd never disappoint you. No matter what.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

121 notes · View notes

creedslove · 4 months

Note

OMG BESTIE YOU WON'T BELIEVE IT.

i had this dream where me, Joel and Ellie were in Jackson and him and I were together after years of surviving and then (I still don't know how) I switched to the no-outbreak time where Sarah is alive and Joel is in his 40's. We didn't knew each other and I accidently bumped into him while walking with my daughter Ellie (at that point I'm in tears) and we look at each other and I have this deja vu and he seems to have it too! We don't say anything, just smile at each other and then I wake up. (I hope it makes sense 😭)

I wish Joel was real. (especially with his silver hair and southern accent that makes my knees buckle)

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: omg bestie you got me screaming and crying and throwing up honestly! This dream is amazing and it sort of reminds me of X-Men Days of Future Past in which Wolverine needs to go back in time to save the mutants and prevent the extinction of mutants and humans! I like this idea so I turned into a headcanon adapting to the no mutation tlou reality hehehehe

• Joel thought the dreams he was having were beyond explanation at how weird they really were; every single night he would wake up in cold sweat, panting and wondering what the hell was going on with him

• his dream was always the same: he would dream about a world that had ended and for some reason he had survived, where monstrous creatures that seemed a mix of humans and some kind of fungus had wiped most of civilization and the world as he knew; in the dream Joel was a low life, a depressed, lonely and hard guy who had lost the will of living right after his daughter got killed and that was enough for Joel to snap wake and immediately tiptoe to her bedroom, just to watch her sleep and make sure she was alright and her bedroom was still pink and full of butterflies and not some ruin of what things used to be

• it puzzled Joel, because he had no idea where that was coming from; he wasn't one to watch zombie or horror stuff, reading books was definitely not his cup of tea and he seriously couldn't understand why kids like Sarah obsessed over watching TikToks, so he thought he didn't actually have the creativity for that

• maybe he'd eaten one of Tommy's suspicious brownies by accident?! It could be a possibility, but his brother was extra careful with these since Sarah was around

• still, it didn't matter the reason why Joel had those disturbing dreams, but the frequency they were happening, and not only that: he very often saw people he knew from his everyday life in the dream as well

• such as his former girlfriend Tess, his brother Tommy and his girl Maria, he recalls seeing those two kids who lived down the street from him... Henry and Sam, he recognized them from Sarah's school, the older brother making ends meet and always having to attend parent - teacher conferences and the little one being the gifted student his daughter told him about

• even that nut job from the other block, Kathleen showed up every once in a while, Bill and Frank, and several other friends and acquaintances Joel had met through his life and the city

• but from all the crazy shit his, what baffled him the most was that you and your daughter Ellie featured in his dream as well; he knew Ellie was a firecracker from all the school meetings he'd attended, which honestly amused him. He thought she was pretty strong and smart and it always made him chuckle when she put a boy back into his place

• but it was so confusing to him that he almost had a fatherly bond with her, at the same time he had a relationship with you. Joel had always found you attractive and he very often kept in the back of his mind his desire of asking you out, but he never went through it, and yet, in his apocalyptic dreams you were going strong, it was just odd

• Joel kept thinking of those dreams for a few days, he even considered seeing a shrink after Sarah told him he should do it, but being a stubborn Miller the way he was, he just shrugged it off and eventually, his sleep went back to normal and he got too caught up with work to pay attention to things like that

• it was only one weekend where he was taking a walk around the neighborhood with Sarah, he ended up running into you, smiling and waving gently, he felt his heart skip a beat, thinking of your apocalyptic romance and thinking of how crazy it would be to miss something he never really had

• when you saw your neighbor Joel waving and smiling from across the street, you immediately reciprocate, he was handsome and you would be lying if you said you didn't have the slightest crush on him, but he would think you were crazy if he ever found out you had the craziest dream about him, in which you both had to survive in an apocalyptic world while being a couple 🥴

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

93 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 1 year

Note

Give me your best minju femdom

just how much are you willing to give for a dream that big?

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

7,397 words

Categories | dominant_curator!Minju x aspiring_artist!you; mommy kink; MINJU LIKES BEING CALLED DADDY; degradation; #DomJu; femdom

Content warning | pegging, SLIGHT DUB-CON, harsh criticism/insults from Minju

You asked for it.

"I'll think about it."

Four words. Four words that are designed to make it seem that there's still a possibility lingering here, but actually pose a definite answer: no. And you would have believed in a potential answer of yes if it weren't for the curator's amused smile as you exhibit your artworks to her. There's no chance anymore; just by looking at her pink lips, you know what she actually means.

Your whole world falls apart. There's your hope, there's your lifelong dream, all cut into hopeless little fragments on the ground. And all you can think is: why? You've worked so hard for this. You've taken so many classes, so many days of coaching and endless painting. It's a difficult world out there, but you are certain that you deserve better than a " I'll think about it."

You deserve to have your painting in the country's biggest gallery. You deserve the recognition, the praise, everything. But the curator of this museum isn't quite convinced, and although she doesn't say it directly, her bored eyes say it all. To her, you're just another artist with a superiority complex, just another artist she can reject and move on without.

Even her quirked lips tell you that she's unimpressed. Probably even disgusted. How dare a niche artist like you demand to come to her personally and ask to have this... art—(if she can even call it that)—displayed?

Her heels clack on the marble museum floor as she runs her fingers along the frames of your paintings. "Honey," she says, testily, throwing you an amused glance, "this isn't even Picasso level talent. And, in case you don't know, Picasso was a pretty shit artist."

You're taken aback by plenty of factors in that condescending statement, because for one, Picasso was an excellent painter. He's your role model in the world of painting and the medium of art itself. You've visited museums in places you aren't even remotely interested in staying just to see his art in person. Hell, you took classes to be able to replicate his abstract style. How dare this woman speak of him as if he weren't one of the biggest names in art? How dare she? You bet that she probably doesn't know how to name any painting besides Starry Night.

"This one"—and then Minju reaches her bare arm, exposed by the loss of a sleeve attached to her black turtleneck top, to glaze her fingers across one of your pieces—"is probably my least favorite. It's rushed, it's not even colorful enough to attract attention. Not even gray enough to capture a sad mood."

How many pointed bullets has she shot at you this afternoon? You're losing count. "Well," you answer, quite shaken, "I don't believe in colors very much. It's the drawing that should matter. You see—"

"I don't want nor care enough to hear about your nerdy art bullshit."

The umpteenth bullet. It strikes your heart right through the core, and through the flat of your back. You take two steps backward for a reason you aren't sure of. It's a big museum, filled with towering sculptures created by lone artists many decades ago and paintings that take up two blocks, yet what intimidates you more than any of them is this woman:

Kim Minju, curator of the biggest art museum in Korea, and a professional asshole. You had to find that put the hard way the moment you started to crush on her. Who wouldn't? Her features—doe eyes, pointed nose, and thick pink lips—blend in together so perfectly, as if she were another masterpiece in the museum. But looks, you learn, are deceiving. Kim Minju is not as kind as she looks, nor are her words as pretty as her face.

Dress pants sway freely around her slim legs as she walks back to you. Her expressions never vary away from boredom, condescending, and angry. It's like those are the only emotions she is capable of having. She's such a complex person—you understand that although you've only been with her from eight o' clock today to three—but so, unbelievably uninteresting at the same time. You have no idea what to make of her yet, except for the fact that she can be pretty cruel.

Minju approaches you with crossed arms, then pauses when she's just another breath away from you. You try to meet her gaze, but it's too good at holding yours. Besides, the hate you have for the fact that she's taller than you doesn't help either. But you have to hold your ground. If you don't, there will be more pieces to pick up than your broken dreams.

"I'll give it to you straight," says Minju airily, "my museum doesn't have the time for your art."

That's another shot. One more and you're dead. Your cheeks already flush from embarrassment, but she drones on, clearly not caring about what you feel. Not that that's an unusual thing for her.

"I spent all day trying to listen to you talk about your credentials and art whatnot," she continues. "But I'm getting bored, and I don't like your tacky style or you. So I suggest you find another smaller place to start posting your art, like a kindergarten teacher's art class billboard."

You've died at least a hundred times with each word she spits. You're utterly humiliated; you've been through terrors of teachers but you have never received words from them as harsh as Minju's. Every syllable was fashioned to hit just the right spot, because yes, your art's first criticism is its tackiness from when you first started. Yes, it was a risk you took when the first place you decided to hang your art is the biggest museum in the country. But you're not like the other artists. You've improved so much over the years, and your art is nothing less than pleasing to the eyes now that you've found your own style.

You have to admit that they do slightly look out of place with all the other gorgeous paintings, but you can be as good as them. You just need a jumpstart, and you'll get to it. You swear on your own life.

"Miss Kim," you answer, not sure what to say, "I can be as good as Van Gogh, or whoever artist it is that you like. I just need a place to start, and I think your museum is a good place for that."

Minju laughs. "Van Gogh was as shitty as Picasso, dear thing. And your art is not good enough for this museum to be good. So please, take my advice and start at the nearest preschool. I'll hear from you when you've finally gotten into second grade."

Dear thing? Dear thing?! Oh, now she's royally pissed you off. Now, it's your turn to be cocky. Kim Minju is about to find out that two can play at this game.

"For your information, Minju," you reply, now with more confidence, "I'm not your dear thing. And I'm the best artist of my generation right now. You're going to be so sorry if you don't accept my art right now."

Minju nods condescendingly, as if she were listening to a small child rambling about dinosaurs. There's a laugh on her face, which makes you even more infuriated because she is just not getting the point. If she does, she doesn't believe in it. Oh, not in the slightest.

"'Best artist'? Let's not get ahead of ourselves right now. Your style is not unique. The topics you draw are not game-changing. Not even close."

"You just don't have the eyes for it," say you with gritting teeth. You hate how your lips are quivering. "You're, you're not even an artist yourself. You're just a curator."

"And a good one at that." She's just as assured in her own abilities as you are. Minju is unfazed by your amateur insults. She could hear better from a sixth grader. "You can drone on all you want, honey, but that won't change the fact that I'm not interested in taking you in. You can go or kill yourself in front of me. Either way, I won't care."

That's your breaking point. Your hands start to form trembling fists. You can't cope with all this right now, or with Minju. She's just another self-absorbed curator. What does she know about art?

But you've relied your dreams on her. If she doesn't give in, you're nothing. You'll never have a chance to make it big. Nobody cares about art nowadays, except for the classicals, making it even harder to make a name for yourself. You want to become so big in the world of craft that you're credited as inspirations centuries from now. You want to be the best that no one ever was. If Minju doesn't like you or what you make, you don't have a chance.

Gone is your oversaturated arrogance. Gone is the front you were trying to put up before Minju. Most importantly, your dreams are gone, snapped into pieces just like that by words. You're more than hurt; you're devastated. If you can't be a renowned artist—the only steady dream you've had your whole life—what are all your efforts worth now? They will remain fruitless if you don't put one foot forward.

Minju is your wall blocking the path to fame and recognition. A goddamned gorgeous wall who won't falter nor break for anyone, especially not you. No punch can break her foundation. No word from you can make her bricks detoriate.

Try to hold it back, but the tears are forming in your eyes. You're a mess, you truly are. You've been a fool for your dream, and you are just realizing now at the present that it was all for nothing.

"Please," you whisper. Break the staring contest with Minju and look at your shoes instead. Look at the marble floor no one would cross to see your works. Look at the ground where the pieces of your hopes and desires have broken.

"Please what?" Minju is clearly enjoying this. Her crossed arms quiver as she tries to hold back a laugh. Oh, she loves seeing pathetic men admit that they're nothing. It's what she feeds on. She can put their tears in a bowl and put cereal in it for breakfast.

"I'll—I'll do anything. Is that enough? I'll do anything for you to accept my works."

There's the smallest hope in you as you see that Minju is considering this. For a woman like her,and a man like you, she can make you do anything. She can make you mop the floors of the museum and yell "hakuna matata" on its roof and know that you would do all that just for her acceptance. That's what makes it so, utterly satisfying.

"That depends, to be honest," she says slowly.

Minju leans down a little and places a finger under your chin. Her nails are sharp, and they scratch your skin as she tilts your face upwards. Her smile is teasing; you hate that you like it so much. You hate that despite her clear description of how much she dislikes you as a person and you as an artist, your magnetic attraction to her remains.

"Just how much are you willing to give, boy toy, for a dream that big?"

She's degrading you again. It's strange how much it makes your skin tingle.

"Like I said," you sniffle, "anything. I'll give anything."

"Oh, you'll sooo regret saying that."

With a woman of her caliber? Of course you will. But you're a desperate person. It's your sheer need and your willingness to do whatever it takes to get it that get you to places. It's both an advantage and a disadvantage, a pro and con, light and dark. Chiaroscuro, if you will.

"W-what do I have to do?" you ask shakily.

"Simple." And she says this without any shame or sign of shame: "Call me mommy."

It takes a moment for you to register, and Minju uses your confusion as the perfect time to pin you to the wall, like you are a masterpiece, too. Not that she sees you in that light; you are too weak to be one. Too easy to be played with.

Minju is kissing your neck. Lipstick leaves fresh marks on your skin. And when she bites... oh, your knees do more than buckle. You almost collapse to the floor. Thank God (or not) for Minju's hands popping your shirt buttons; they keep you standing. They keep you knowing that all this is real.

She kisses you again, crudely. "What did I say?"

"Call you mommy..."

"Say it then."

She swiftly pulls off her black top, and in the bat of an eyelash, tangles your wrists in between its fabric behind your back. All the while, her kisses rampage your skin. She can't get enough of your pathetic submissiveness. She plays with you as if you were a toy, her toy.

Her mouth traces your torso like a pencil. Her teeth come out to play at times, specifically to see the alarm in your eyes. But nothing prepared you for her lips right above your jeans, or her daring eyes looking up at you and shooting glares into your soul.

"Say it."

"Mommy..."

That's the ticket. The zipper and button are undone by Minju's eager fingers. Your cock is easily fished out and taken into her mouth as if it were nothing. Your body tenses as your mouth falls open.

Although she is the one on her knees, Minju shows that it doesn't change that she's still in control. Her technique and pacing alternates between harsh, rough suckling to a snail's pace of blowing.She sucks you off not for your own pleasure, but for hers. Clearly, that is what she has put first most in this world.

"Fuck!" you can't help but cry out.

Minju spits on your cock and squeezes it tightly. Your hips jerk forward at the tightness and pain. "You're not allowed to talk unless I say so," she says firmly. She's serious about this, too; her eyes show clear and unbridled anger. "Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, hnghh!" Your moan echoes in the wide museum. Her lips have rounded your head again and provide great suction. "Y-yes, mommy!"

Satisfied, Minju continues to suck you off. She's unlike any other girl you've had sex with. The others put on innocent faces to entice you whilst their lips worked on your cock, and picked up the pace if you pleased. They let out the prettiest of tears as they called you daddy, whimpered out the sexual title in the midst of the shoves of your cock down their throats.

But Minju... she's a woman with the unhinged desire to belittle you. Even in sex, she remains taunting—the licks at the sides of your dick and in the tiny slit you have are only done to make her laugh at your shivers. It's pleasurable, yes, but degrading, too. Degrading in the sense that she's simply doing it to see you break yourself into something more pathetic, into the writhing, needy mommy's boy that you aren't.

Or... ?

"This dick is so fucking small." Minju spits on the shaft with disgust. "I bet you can't even fuck me properly, not even if I guide you along."

"I—I can," you say, defensively. Minju's saliva coats your cock with more liquid than the continuous stream of pre-cum, which she licks off, of course.

Minju rises to her feet. It is only then that you admire her body. You would say that her face is the real deal, and it is, but you're still rendered shocked by her form. Her breasts are not the biggest, but they're still pretty eye candies. Their nipples are tiny pink things atop small handfuls of flesh. Her hips are what tempt you the most; they're so fucking wide, bringing more shape to her slim stomach.

"Show me," she says. She smiles again, marking a new challenge. "Put that cock inside me or you'll never make yourself recognized. I can fucking crush your dream with a snap of my fingers, baby, so I suggest you move fast."

You can't do anything. Besides the fear of never making it in the real world or as an artist bubbling inside of you, she's so tempting. Even with her all-black outfit: black heels, black sleeveless top, black dress pants, a style you are not fond of almost as much as you aren't fond of pineapple pizza, she attracts you. It's like there's invisible magnets taped to her skin that pulls your fingers to her hips, pulls down the long pants, and grabs her close.

Like magnets, you rub together. Your cock lodges in the hole between her legs. It's met with an immediate contraction, but Minju shows little appreciation on her face. Yes, her jaw drops and her eyes are suddenly round and wide, but she doesn't care to tell you how good it is. Your quick thrusts outnumber the fucks Minju gives about catering to your wants.

"Yes... fuck, yes, fuck that cock into me." Minju humps your entering and exiting shaft determinedly. "Suck on my tits, toy. Suck them until they're red and sore."

That's not something you're adamant to disobey. Like her lips lubricating the shape of your cock earlier, your mouth finds her nipples and captures it. You do as she says, sucking it cleanly and hardly. It feels amazing in your mouth. You knew it would even before it slipped in between your lips. Minju lets out sighs of gratification. That was the only thing it took for her to be louder. She would have to turn up the volume, though; the slaps of your cock into her cavern are starting to boom.

While her breasts are a beauty of their own degree, Minju's cunt is just perfect. It's wet, grasping onto your cock and covering it with a sheen of juices, just like she coated it with saliva during her blowjob earlier. Her mouth was considerably warmer though. But you aren't one to complain when you're clearly the toy in this situation.

Besides, the texture of her walls is a welcome addition to the stimulus on your shaft. Your cockhead repeatedly dips onto the patches of sensitivity, provoking a surefire reaction of the tender walls closing around it tighter. Jerk your hips forward; if you were only more powerful, you could reach her cervix and make it a finishing line. But no, your focus is on sucking the life out of Minju's boobs, just like she commanded.

Minju whispers soft curses under her breath. Arms wound around your neck, she silently tells you to go deeper. No, it's not just a matter of telling; it's a command, as brazen and firm as her earlier order to tell you to suck her tits. She expects you to comply, and if she is disappointed by you not doing so, she'll discard of you. Simple as that.

Release her nipple from your lips and prove that you're worthy. Prove it with more powerful thrusts of your hips into her tiny hips. You string together every might in your body, although most of it is being drained by Minju's humps on your shaft, into pushing your cock deeper. Minju cries out in pleasure. Continue the cycle and never break it. Eyes closed, head tilted to the sky, and arms almost choking your neck, you know you've proven your value to her. All you have to do now is to maintain that.

"Fuck, that's right!" Minju yells out. Even she can't handle your pounds. You're knocking he rinto oblivion. "Fuck mommy's cunt like that, slut! Fucking stretch her out!"

You're already stretching her out enough. It's hard to see since Minju is so adamant on fucking herself on you, but your girth is practically spreading her pussy lips apart. Wonder if she'll become tighter if you fill her up to the base of your cock.

Test it out. Cock stiff and a compelled mind in action, you shove yourself as hard and deep as you can.

"Oh fuck!" Minju's fully penetrated by you now. Your cockhead nudges the end of her tunnel and slams into it repeatedly. Minju's high on the pleasure. She's fucking herself onto you as if she were possessed by a succubus. She's sex-crazed, she's rabid, she's a feral fucking vixen who won't play around when it comes to what pleases her. And right now, what's giving her so much bliss is your dick. She's never letting it go.

But she thinks she wants something else to add to the mix.

"Finger my asshole," Minju says bluntly. Another command. She takes your hand, undoes it from its constraints, and guides it to her round bottom. "Do it."

"B-but..." You're not used to butt stuff, to put it cleanly. You've never touched or inserted yourself in any of your girlfriends' asses. It has always been purely excluded from sessions like these. "I'm, I'm not—"

Minju leans over conspiratorially and rasps in your ear: "Now."

Can you still continue proving yourself worthy? Even if you can't, you have no choice. Your chance at making it big is in Minju's hands. Besides, you're pretty curious yourself. Does it feel good there for her, too? How good, exactly?

Pat your finger on the tensing brown circle. Minju's breath hitches in response. Hide your uncertainty by meticulous teasing, rubbing your fingertips around her asshole and only slightly putting some inside. But Minju is becoming impatient. Whimpers still escape her lips, but she makes herself clear with the reverse of her ass into your hand. She knows what you're trying to do, and she's not letting you get away with it.

Hold your breath and plug one finger inside her. Turns out that's all you needed to do for Minju to put her all into hugging you with her walls, for her neck and head to throw back, for her to cry out a scream that sounds a little fox-like due to its pitch.

"Mommy's cumming, mommy's cumming, ffffuhh—! "

Her voice cracks. It's that momentary weakness that compels you to burst inside her like a popped balloon, except that instead of helium, you release hot strings of wet white cum. You don't have the mind nor the care for a few seconds to worry about impregnating her. The grasp of her walls and the push of her manicured nails into your skin are too mighty in turning your attention away from that.

However, to Minju, it doesn't matter if your cock is thick and big. She's paralyzed in shock. She can't believe you had the audacity to cum inside her.

"Fuck! What the fucking fuck did you do?" Her hands free themselves of their frozen to push you away roughly.

You only come to your senses after she slaps you. "I'm sorry, Minju," you say guiltily. Had you really lost all self-control after months without sex? Sex education literally revolves around protection! "Are you at least on the pill...?"

"Of course I am!"

The tension releases itself from your shoulders. At least God still has your back. "It isn't a problem then," you say. "We can—"

Minju pushes you again. This time, your back knocks hard into the wall. She grasps you by the neck tightly. There's true anger in her eyes now. None of it is an arrogant ploy anymore.

"Are you fucking stupid?" she asks, then rolls her eyes. "Oh, why did I even bother asking? Of course you are."

Ouch.

"The thing here, boy toy, is I don't want your cum in me! Clean me up!"

"D-do I get a tissue or...?"

"No. Lick it out of me."

You're stunned. What? Shake your head, bewildered. "No, I'm not gonna lick my cum out of your cunt, Minju!" you yell.

Her fingers grab your hair and pull it downwards. You fall to the floor in a heap. But you should get used to it. With the way she treats you like you're dust beneath her feet, you've always belonged here. It's only literal now.

You take a glance at her creampied pussy and cringe. It looks gorgeous; it's dripping out of her like a river. But now that you have to lick your own cum out of her, like you're some obedient little slave who can do nothing but obey and obey, it doesn't look so enticing at all.

Minju fires you another glare. It's a warning of the worse that's yet to come if you don't clean her up.

Oh, the things you do for your dreams. The things you do for money; for fame; for the tiniest bit of recognition...

How did you get to this point?

Fine, you'll lick.

At first, it's humiliating. Your ears burn red as Minju parts her legs and sits on your mouth, using you as a sex toy and chair. It's hard to support her weight on your face, even if she is light. It's easy to slip your tongue inside her though. You know it feels good when she moans softly.

"Come on," she pushes you on. Demanding, that's what Minju is. You wonder how she even became a curator with that kind of attitude. She slides herself up and down your tongue, which doesn't become flaccid in its licks due to the uncomfortableness of it all. "Clean mommy up. We still have a lot of things to do."

You take some of your cum from her creamed hole and drag your tip tantalizingly to her clit. Minju whimpers. Repeat the process for a few more seconds. You enjoy the shivers she does, and how tight she is around you. They make the experience much more bearable.

You haven't appreciated her thighs enough. She may be slim, but they are thick enough to choke the breath out of you. They encase the sides of your face tightly as she guides your tongue hotly. Her eyelids are fluttered lower than usual. Her breaths become more labored after the ones before them exit.

Glad that your hands have been freed from much earlier, you try to make this fun for you, too. Grab those honey thighs and push her down onto your mouth. Her gasp is satisfying. Her eyes flutter wide. They're all fun to watch: the shiver of her tight form, the expressions she makes, but pulling her down was a big mistake. Now you can't breathe at all. Your nose is nestled into her clit.

The muffled breaths you take end up pleasuring her cunt instead, much to your dismay. Minju doesn't mind; they make her more soaked than before. She sways her hips to and fro to get the feel of your nose swiping on her clitoris and your tongue entering and exiting her. The tip of your tongue excites her senses in the best way possible. She can't get enough of it. Hands on her nipples, she bounces herself on your pink appendage, overall satisfied with the work you've been doing.

"Such a good boy now," she remarks with a playful caress of your hair. "See how pathetic boys like you always end up in this position? Lick me faster."

The insults graze your pride because you know they are true. You became a whore for Minju. Her little boy toy. Weren't you just boasting about your own achievements a while ago? If so, why are you on your knees now? It's humiliating.

Close your eyes to stop the tears of embarrassment from flowing. The last of your dignity is gone. You can't give Minju the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

You increase the speed. Thrust your tongue inside her faster. Wiggle it around to hit the right spots. You discover that it isn't a matter of cleaning your cum up from inside her anymore. That was all a scam to get you to orally pleasure her. It shows in the way Minju refuses to let your tongue leave her hole, even to collect your semen. She's humping it too quickly for there to even be a chance of exiting her warm little hole. But it's too late to confront her about it now. You just have to wait until she climaxes again.

You have to admit: you do taste quite delicious. Turns out the girls whose mouths you pounded weren't pretending when they sucked off the semen from your tip. Your cheeks redden with the humiliation at that knowledge. However, there's a con in being aware of that. For example, it isn't so difficult anymore to lap at Minju's pussy. You willingly circle and dance your tongue inside her. It's fun to see her pleasured reactions.

When the opportunity presents itself, you pull your tongue out. Minju winces, but before she can voice out any frustration or order, you start to lick her labia back and forth. Her wide, shapely hips stutter. You have to take them in your hands and steady her to continue.

"Oh—mmmm! Fuck, such a good boy for mommy, eating her out so well!"

You would have been surprised at the compliment, but her silky voice never reaches your ears. Her thighs are compressing them too tightly for anything to be heard but wordless screams.

Her most erogenous part is her clitoris, clearly. She demandingly pushes that part of her center on your tongue. Twirl it at your tip, play with it, suckle it. Nibble at it to keep her on her toes. Show her how much you've tamed the brat in you, because once she did, it was apparent that there was no going back.

"Yes, that feels so good!" she cries. Her movements become more frantic and less graceful. It's like you're being waterboarded by a tsunami; she's a force of her own, a danger with the cleanest edge. "I'm gonna cum, baby boy! Mommy's gonna cum, she's gonna fucking cum all over your face---!"

When she does, it's like a sobering splash. Her screams symbolize the thunder, and the juices that squirt on your nose and mouth is the flood. There are no lifeboats anywhere to save you. Nor are there people that are going to. You just have to withstand the rain for a few more seconds

Close your eyes and wait for the storm to end. It takes a while to cease. You try to help yourself out by sticking out your tongue and catching her steady spray into your mouth, but you just choke on it. Minju finds her girl cum spilling down the sides of your lips and swirling in your throat amusing.

Through all that, her taste remains impeccable.

The stream stops. Minju's thighs are shaking. She slowly edges herself off your messy face. Her breasts heave with every heavy breath she takes. They're hypnotizing, but you file your eyes away from them. You have to remember that they belong to the cruel woman who told you to do away with yourself. This is still the same woman who used you. It doesn't matter if the only things you are appreciating in the moment are hr breasts; they still belong to her. She degraded and humiliated you in ways you never would have imagined.

Nudity is another form of art widely appreciated, for both aesthetic and gratification purposes. It returned and became popularized during the Renaissance and the Impressionism. Science was used to figure out how to create the right proportions for whoever is being sculpted, painted, or drawn. Mathematics was heavily involved, too. The golden ratio was used to present the figures in an ideal manner, whether the figures were of gods or historical icons.

You are glad it became popular through the years. You are glad at how normalized it has become for Minju's body looks exactly like another stunning sculpture. She may not have the golden ratio, but she has something even better than that. She's naturally curvy, naturally beautiful. Back in the day, they would have written sonnets about her.

She may be cruel, but she is quite stunning.

"We're not done yet."

The curator puts a stop to your daydreaming. Raised brows, fine creased lines on her forehead that scold you, Minju is flattered that you think this is over yet. It's quite entertaining to her, actually. You don't really think she's gonna give in after just a few sessions of fucking, do you?

Pocket your sore pride and face the challenge head-on. "What else is there to do?"

Her smile is haunting. "You're gonna find out soon. You might even like it."

The museum is closed today. There's a big sign outside with "CLOSED" plastered across the letters spelling "Now Open!". Minju had to shut its doors for the day due to your endless requests for a chance to have your works exhibited. Oh, if you knew what you had to do to get her to agree, you wouldn't believe it. You'd call it bullshit.

You and Minju clean yourselves up. There's no point in reusing her turtleneck; it's blotted with her squirt. And you have no business going out with a face drenched with the same liquid. So, while Minju gets into a change of clothes, you go to the bathroom and splash cold water into your face. You don't want to look in the mirror. You don't want to see the slut the man it reflects has become, because, if you were able to admit it to yourself, you'd say that you liked the way Minju treats you. You like the power she has over you that she achieved through such a short period of time.

But you can't say that. You refuse to.

Apparently, you were in the bathroom for too long. Minju's fist knocks three short sounds onto the door.

"You can't hide there all afternoon, babycakes!" she reminds you sweetly. She fires another five knocks. "Come out, come out!"

Roll your eyes with a tired huff. You weren't exactly planning to, but hey, that could work. She can't do anything about it but look stupid pounding onto the door like a maniac.

You get out. You find Minju dressed in a gray, sleeveless top with a jacket matching its color. She has undone her black hair and let it fall to her shoulders.

She gives you a wide, scheming smile. "Let's go?"

Minju does not wait for a reply. She simply takes hold of your wrist and pulls you through the swindling doors, colorful galleries, and parked cars. She leads you to her own vehicle. It's a modest black car that's been around for ages, but still works as if it were new. You can tell from the light rust on the knobs.

"Get in," Minju says. She already peeks at you from the rolled-down window. Gesturing to the empty passenger seat beside her with a tilt of her head, her brows rise and stay at their impatient height until you get into the car.

You only learn later that it's more than mandatory to have a seatbelt on when Minju is your driver.

There's that red light she easily breezes through. And another. Your eyes are wide. "What the fuck, Minju?" you yell. Your hands frantically fly to your seatbelt and fasten its buckle into place. Not without flying around, of course.

"What?" she asks, really not knowing what's wrong. "You need a water or something?"

Anddd a near miss with a bus. The honk of the horn is deafening. "Do you even have a license?"

"Ha, nope. This car isn't mine. It's my—hey, fuck you, too, you old shit!" Minju gives an angry driver who nearly collided with her sideview mirror the middle finger. When she turns back to you, she grins calmly. "Anyway, it was my brother's. He taught me to drive when I was eleven."

"Well, that explains it," you mutter to yourself sarcastically. And you'd think that since she learned from an early age, she'd drive better than most. That's her second deception of the day, and the twenty-third broken law.

The car swerves and spins into curved roads as if it were dancing. You're constantly on the edge of your seat. Minju, however, is unbothered. This isn't an out-of-place habit for her, breaking at least thirty traffic laws the moment the wheels of her car start rolling. Nor is it for the traffic guards in the middle of the roads, it seems. They yell at Minju with a a warning, but disregard it after a few seconds. How many almost-crashes did it take for them to realize there's no dealing with her?

You almost break into song of religious praise when Minju finally parks near her house. But it's too early to celebrate. God has fashioned this day unpredictably.

Her home is as large as a mansion. It's not exactly a mansion, of course, but the combination of paint and placing is satisfactory enough to pass as a modern house. It stands out in the suburban division like a sore thumb, if a sore thumb were fancier.

She throws open the door. The interior of her home is just as impressive as the exterior. Posters and drawings decorate the walls. The space in each room is wider than the first floor of your own home. You'd give in to jealousy if you weren't more surprised at the thing Minju is brandishing.

"Surprise, surprise," she says. She sticks it in your face for you to see it better, but it's too close for you to even understand what it is. It is only when she moves it back does it finally sink in.

A foretelling personification, really. It's a strap-on. Or is it a dildo? Oh, it's whatever you call a pink plastic shaped like dick. But your difficulty in naming what it is isn't the biggest problem you'll encounter this day. Oh, you have bigger fish to fry soon.

"What the fuck, Minju?" you ask in disbelief. Shake your head again and again, still not coming to terms with what she plans to do. "I'm not gay! I'm not getting fucked in the ass by—"

"I never said you were gay," Minju points out. She's good at that, finding Freudian slips in the middle of your sentences to turn against you."I just wanted to try fucking a guy's ass, that's all. And since I have you... I thought that today is the day."

"Minju!"

"Babycakes!" she says, with a grin that's a distorted mirroring of your worried frown. She grasps your chin and kisses you on the lips. "It'll be fine, I promise. You have nothing to worry about."

She really needs to stop calling you babycakes. It's annoying you already. But more than that, you don't trust her words. What if she's just using you again? What if she's lying to you, like she did when she said that she would think about taking your pieces in? When she's done, she'll surely throw you away like a trash bag, as if you were never really there, and replace you with a new and prettier one to dump everything she wants in.

But you find yourself walking to her bedroom. Slipping your jeans down. Putting them on the floor as Minju fastens the strap to her hips. Lying down on the bed and just waiting for it.

Wait, why the fuck is your dick hard?

There's a cold feeling on your asshole for a while. It's because of the lube Minju's lathering onto it, "for safety purposes," she says. "Damn, I'm pretty big! D'you think it'll be funny if I actually put a condom on the tip?"

But she doesn't, after an unamused roll of your eyes, and the pink tip penetrates your lubed hole. The intrusion is fought with the receiving hole's tightening. The sensation is weirder than anything you've felt before. Of course, you've never done this before, so you never could imagine what it felt like. But now, you discover that it's a sickly mix of pain and pleasure.

"Fuck, Min—"

"That's not the right word, honey," Minju corrects you. The drags of her cock in and out are slow. "Tonight, I'm not Kim Minju. I'm your daddy."

"Mmph! Please, Min— daddy," you whimper out. The word feels right when it slips past your mouth. "Daddy." Daddy, daddy, daddy. You're usually on the receiving side when your previous girls uttered it, but maybe it's actually fun to say it, too.

Minju's cock prods at your ass. It slips further inside as she giggles musically. "That's right. Open up for daddy, sweetheart~"

Even if, let's say, you refuse to, there's no other choice you can run to. You're on the bed, naked, with a woman whose hips wield a fastened dick. You can't escape.

Minju's strokes are almost loving. It's slow, sensual, and timed. She must have taken sympathy on you, for what might be the first time. Of course, her hand wraps around your own dick to provide an "everyday" stimulus, too. That, you enjoy, better than the pegging. You jerk into her hand with a clear need never spoken through words, but a series of helpless mewls.

"What a twitchy little cock," laughs Minju. She wraps her hand around it like a ribbon, and fastens it with quick, bold strokes. They're bolder than any step or curve you've drawn, any controversial piece you've made. "Your cock really likes daddy's dick, doesn't it? And her warm hand?"

You're leaning towards the latter as of now, but you nod anyway. What else can you do? Your virgin asshole can't do anything about it, your leaking cock can't do anything about it. Hell, your tears can't, either. But there's a secret joy formed inside of you at being under Minju's control, with nowhere to run or hide. It's sick, you know that, but you can't help what you feel.

Maybe you like being used and pegged by this harsh curator. Maybe you like her evil words, her tempting body, and her attitude that would make any grandmother die on the spot. Maybe you like the way she treats you like you're a particularly crude inconvenience in her way.

You're shaken by that realization. But what shocks you more is her hand slapping your ass cheeks hardly. You cry out, but the sound is quickly silenced by Minju's free fingers in your mouth.

"Shhh, quiet, baby," Minju coos softly. She leans over to kiss your back and neck. "I want to hear your cute cheeks slap together."

It's a sentence that can easily be used for comedic relief in a fucked-up sitcom. But to you, it's nothing but sexy. The way the words drip from her kissing lips just add to the hotness of her hand giving your ass a firm spank. Your bottom cringes, causing your legs to go weak. You've sunken onto the bed helplessly. At least it's a comfortable place to lie into. The bedsheets must be expensive. They have no other reason to be this silky and soft. Just how much is a curator paid? You might want to consider that career rather than go for being an artist.

Due to your fall, Minju takes your ass in a pronebone position. Sometimes, she isn't satisfied with your butt hole's gape, so she pries it apart with her own fingers. You squeal into the pillows. Pray the neighbors don't hear your scream when Minju takes matters into her own hands and slips a finger beside her strap.

Her strokes gain more strength as the present becomes soon. It's a sensation that you have no idea how to choose between liking and hating it. Your prostrate is constantly stimulated, and the brown walls of your butt are rubbed against, but there's the newness of it all. You aren't used to this. Part of you outright refuses to do it again, but the curious side of you is more than interested for another round. Maybe one or two more? You really wouldn't mind.

"P-please, please, daddy."

You start to beg of your own accord. Lewdly. Needily. You're starting to like this too much. With Minju corrupting your ass and her hand jerking you off, you accept your fate. Paintings don't matter anymore, just as long as it's Minju's cock lodged inside you.

#kpop smut #izone smut #kpop #smut #izone #kim minju #minju #izone minju #kim minju smut #minju smut #izone minju smut #male reader #reader insert #request #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 7

709 notes · View notes

j0hnj4ej3n · 1 year

Text

haechan: enemies to lovers

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Haechan is a little mean, mentions of toxic and abusive relationship (please don't read or interact if you're uncomfortable)

Notes: this is Haechan's part of 'nct dream as love tropes', enjoy!

You first got to know Haechan through Renjun, and truth be told, you never really liked the guy. He was too loud, too much of a jokester and just loved to get on everyone’s nerves for laughs. You had no idea why a guy like Renjun would even have someone like Haechan as a friend. You tried to keep a distance between you and Haechan since you didn’t have the best impression of him. But he caught on pretty fast and instead of accepting the fact that not everyone had to be his friend, he almost made it his purpose in life to annoy the shit out of you. To Haechan, if you didn’t want to be his friend, then he’d gladly be your enemy. He doesn’t try to break your friendship with Renjun or anything (he isn’t actually evil) but he would make sure to give you a hard time whenever you’re around.

You like studying with the guys because they were all always really willing to help you when you struggle with work. With the exception of Haechan, it’s like he was there only to make sure you felt worse about yourself. “Mark, can you help me with this?” “Oh yeah, of course.” And Haechan would lean over to look at the question you need help with only to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” “You can’t even solve that? Are you stupid?” “You’re an asshole.” “Oh, I know.” And Renjun would hit his head with a pen, “Enough, you literally failed Math too.” Your eyes widened and you retorted, “The audacity to call me stupid when you did worse than me.” “Okay, who cares?! I’m improving!”

Haechan never misses the chance to tease you. And even though you know he usually doesn’t mean any harm, you simply hate it. “Wow, your hair looks different today… Who are you trying to impress?” “You can never just compliment me without trying to get on my nerves can you?” “Me? Complimenting you? Dream on~” He said before he ruffled your hair and ran away, messing up the braids you spent all morning getting right, “HEY! You- GET BacK HERE!”

But you’ve never hated Haechan more than today. You never knew he could be this nosy nor this aggravating.

You have your hood on as you walk into school in the summer heat and you walk briskly with your head down, hoping to reach class as quickly as possible. You’re turning the corner when you bump into someone’s shoulder, you look up to apologise when you realise it was none other than Lee Haechan.

“Watch where you’re going man.” “Fuck off.” “Damn… why so pissy today?” Haechan only grows intrigued and shuffles to block your way as you try to walk away. You keep your head down as you shoved your way past him. “Hey, I was talking to you,” he said as he pulled your hood off, you panicked and scurrily pulls it back on, trying to hide your face. “Don’t do that!” “Why are you even wearing a hoodie anyway, it’s literally so hot today.” “It’s none of your business.” Haechan only pulls your hood again to push your buttons when he finally spots it. And you can tell he saw it because the usual smug grin he wears is wiped off his face.

“Why do you have a bruise on your cheek? What happened?” “Nothing,” you say as you attempt to walk away again, only for Haechan to pull you in the opposite direction and into the janitor’s room.

“Let go of me, you-” “Who did that to you?” “I fell.” “Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t lie to me.” You’ve never seen Haechan so serious before except that one time the boys were debating about if we have one butt or two butts. He adorns a frown on his face and his eyes never leave your face, as if scanning to make sure you’ll tell him the truth. “It’s your new boyfriend isn’t it?” “N-no…” “Did he hit you?” “No, he didn’t. It was just an accident, okay?” “Break up with him.” You stare at Haechan like he’s crazy. “If he’s hurting you, you have to leave him.” “I told you it was an accident. Why do you care so much anyways?” “Oh, is it a CRIME now to be a decent human being?” “Whatever.” You say as you try to leave the room. “Don’t be stupid, if he really did that… If he’s really hurting you, you and I both know it’s not going to be the last time.” You glare at him, you’re so angry you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Haechan has no idea what your relationship is like and has no right to tell you what to do. “For the last time, it was an accident. If you can do one nice thing for me today, I would love it if you could just leave me alone.” You tell him with gritted teeth and walk out of the janitor’s room, slamming the door behind you.

Haechan doesn’t talk to you for the rest of the day and you don’t try to interact too much with anyone, other than Renjun. Afterall, he’s the only one who knows the truth. Your boyfriend has really poor control over his anger and when you two would have a small disagreement, it could turn nasty really quickly. He has a habit of throwing things and this time, when he was busy throwing stuff around to vent his anger, something flew and hit you right on your cheek. That’s what caused the bruising, he never tried to hurt you. Your boyfriend loves you, he’ll never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

“What did y’all even fight about this time? Why did he have to throw it at you?” Renjun asked as he gently spread the medical cream on your cheek. “He’s just having a hard time recently…” Renjun only sighs, he’s worried and he hates your boyfriend at this point but nothing really gets through to you. So all he can do is support you emotionally and look out for you in ways he could. “Please… if it gets bad, you can’t stay y/n. It’s not safe.” “I’m fine, I know how to handle him.”

You don’t join the boys to study after school today, all you want to do is go home and sleep these conflicting feelings away, so you do. And when Haechan and Renjun are alone, waiting for the other guys to arrive after their classes, Haechan almost explodes. “You knew about y/n’s boyfriend and you’re not doing anything about it?” “I have no idea what you’re taking about…” Haechan only scoffs, “I saw you helping her with the bruise.” Renjun is searching his mind for another excuse. “Don’t try lying for her, I already saw it.” “What am I supposed to do anyway? She doesn’t listen and she likes him so much…” “Why don’t we jump the guy?” “You’re crazy, have you seen him? Even if we got the guys involve, we might lose.” “So you’re leaving y/n to fend for herself? She’s smaller than all of us.” “He’s not hitting her,” Renjun starts but Haechan doesn’t even give him a chance. “Not yet, no matter what, she already got hurt. That’s bad enough…” Haechan has his hands in his hair and Renjun eyes him carefully.

“Wait… why are you so stressed? I thought you hated her.” “You’re not worried?” “Of course I am, but this is a first for you.” Haechan ruffles his own hair in frustration, “I just have such a bad feeling about this… and contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually hate her.” The rest of the boys soon arrive and Renjun makes Haechan promise not to tell anyone. So he keeps quiet, he knows it’s not his place to expose you like that but he never stopped thinking about you for the rest of the day.

The two of you never got along well but realising your situation changed something in him. He teased you less and quietly looked out for you more, the lack of bruises on you eases him. Damn it, even a smile from you now just makes him feel more at peace. Right now, his purpose had changed. It didn’t matter if you still aren’t fond of him, Haechan just wanted to protect you.

It was like deja vu, Haechan was always one to reach school early. It wasn’t like he loved attending lessons or anything. He simply enjoyed being the first to be in the empty classroom, having some time to himself before the school day officially starts. Moreover, he loved getting his breakfast from the canteen and indulging in it without his mother rushing him like she does at home. He just dropped his bag off at his seat and was even whistling on his way out to order his breakfast when he bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry I-” but he couldn’t even bring himself to finish his sentence when he looks down and is met with your teary eyes, your face adorning a bruise bigger than the previous one from a few weeks ago. Haechan wanted to say anything to break the silence but he couldn’t even bring himself to speak. What could he say to make you feel better? He was never one to be too kind with his words. You broke the silence first, “H-he hit me.” Haechan could hear his heart shatter. He has never seen you like this. Eyes filled with tears, lips quivering. Your arms wrapped across your chest, almost as if you’re trying to comfort yourself. Even now, he could tell you’re trying to hold back your tears. You might have been small in size but you were always feisty, strong, would not let anyone mess with you. Almost instinctively Haechan pulled you into a gentle hug, patting your shoulder, still thinking of what to say and having nothing else except, “I’m sorry.”

You finally allowed yourself to cry, with Haechan’s body shielding you, you let your emotions go. Haechan didn’t even mind if you were staining his uniform with your tears, he continued patting your shoulder, whispering things like “you’re okay”, “you’re safe” until you calmed down. After that Haechan ran to get his breakfast and even got a set for you as well.

“What do I do now?” you ask after a few moments of silence. Haechan replies with his mouth stuff with bread, “Just fucking leave him, what else do you want to do?” You glance up at him, “But I-” “No, y/n please… You know what’s the right thing to do.” “I’m scared…” Haechan reaches out to put his hand over yours, “You’ll be fine, and I’ll be here. Promise.”

So you did, both Renjun and Haechan sat by you while you broke up with your boyfriend over text that very afternoon. He didn’t take it very well but it doesn’t matter. He even had the audacity to reply, sending you nasty words and insults. Haechan wanted to call him and give him a piece of his mind but Renjun had to tell him not to make matters worse.

From that day on, you were terrified to walk home alone, fearing that your ex would come looking to confront you. So Haechan took it upon himself to accompany you. It was really strange at first since you two were never really close. But you were grateful for him. If he wasn’t so nosy, things might have gotten a lot worse. Haechan still pisses you off from time to time but it’s all just banter. The talks you have while Haechan walks you home made you realise that Haechan isn’t that big of an asshole. That he actually has a mature bone in him, that he cares a lot about those around him, he’s smart and witty. He never fails to make you laugh, even if it comes with teasing.

Eventually, it went from walking you home to watching dramas with you in your living room. Or hanging out and studying in your bedroom. After a couple of months, your mum even invited him to dinner. By then, Haechan whines whenever he has to leave you. “Come on, we’ll see each other tomorrow.” You tell him as he refuses to stop hugging you, “That’s like 10 hours away from you…” “Exactly, that’s less than a day, Haechan.” “Haechan? It’s baby to you, I don’t go by Haechan anymore.” “Stop, I’m not used to it yet…” Haechan finally pulls away just so he can look at you getting all shy.

At some point in time, it was obvious to the both of you that you two very quickly crossed from being enemies, to frenemies, to friends and over to something more. So after being invited to dinner, Haechan confessed to you that very night. And that was it. Nothing much changed really, he still teases you to no end. And you bite back at his comments just as quickly. But now, you two just hold hands and hug from time to time. You two never officially told your friends yet but you’re both sure Renjun already caught on.

Watching you get all shy from his previous comment has Haechan melting and he decides to let you off for now. “Alright, I’ll leave now… I’ll be back in exactly 10 hours!” You laugh at his cheeky expression and jokingly pretend to chase him out of your house. But deep down, you can’t wait to see him again the next morning. He is finally out your door and he gives you one last hug before he leaves, you wave him goodbye until you can’t see him anymore, reminding him to text you when he gets home safely.

[9:15pm] my super cool bf <3: i’m home baby

[9:15pm] my super cool bf <3: i’ll come pick you up again tmr, we can walk to school together!

[9:16pm] you: good, rest well baby

[9:16pm] you: i miss you already

[9:16pm] my super cool bf <3: now you call me baby… but i miss you too T-T

[9:17pm] you: shut up, this is me trying

[9:17pm] my super cool bf <3: i know you love me

[9:17pm] you: unfortunately, i do

#nct #nct dream #nct haechan #nct haechan fluff #nct haechan angst #j0hnj4ej3n

325 notes · View notes

antianakin · 1 year

Text

MY STANCES ON CONTROVERSIAL CHARACTERS ARE AS FOLLOWS

Anakin Skywalker: This one's fairly obvious, but I'm one of the people who doesn't see Anakin as redeemed by the end of ROTJ just because he saved one person he personally gives a damn about. My definition of redemption is about atoning and making amends, and Anakin has no possible way of actually DOING THAT for most of the things he's done, so there's no real way of acquiring redemption. He can be a better person, he can be forgiven by individual people for things he's done to them, he can keep choosing to be selfless instead of selfish, but none of that necessarily means he has to be considered redeemed. If you think he's redeemed at the end of ROTJ and that's what brings you joy in your interpretation of the story, great, I honestly don't care. But if you choose to come into my notes and get mad at me because I don't think the space fascist is redeemed just because he decides to save his own son, you will now be blocked on sight, I'm done having that conversation with people.

The Jedi As A Whole: Wonderful people with a beautiful culture that never did a single thing to deserve what was done to them. They were not corrupt, they didn't need to reform their culture in a single way. There was nothing more they could've done for Anakin or the Republic that would've stopped what happened. They don't steal children, they adopt them from parents who choose to let their children lead a better life, and become part of the large extended Jedi family. They are intergalactic therapists whose literal way of life IS therapy for those who choose to follow it. They were outplayed, but they did everything they could've possibly done. Sometimes, it is possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life. (Side note here: This is an incredibly pro Jedi blog, if you come on my blog and criticize the Jedi in any way, you will be immediately blocked, I am so done with this fandom's anti-Jedi sentiments, consider this your warning.)

Padme Amidala: Deserved better from the Prequels, has such potential and promise and I want so dearly to save her from her toxic ass marriage to a fascist MAGA manchild, but damn am I glad Luke and Leia didn't have to grow up with her as a mother some days.

Bo-Katan Kryze: I wish I could like her, but the writers are making it SO HARD. They don't seem to ever remember that she gleefully set an entire village on fire because they dared ask for their enslaved people back and to not be occupied anymore, but I do.

Satine Kryze: I wish I could like her, but I don't have enough nostalgia for her to overlook how bad the writing is for her. She treats Obi-Wan like garbage, brings out the worst in him, acts very arrogantly about just about everything and never has to take responsibility for her own mistakes so she gets to die a martyr.

Aleksander Kallus: Literally has to have his ENTIRE BACKSTORY retconned so he can be "redeemed" within the span of one episode. Also manages to "All Lives Matter" Zeb into thinking that judging Imperials for their fascist choices is the same as judging an ENTIRE SPECIES on the actions of one individual who was acting in self-defense anyway. Stop saying he's got the best redemption arc in Star Wars, it sucks fucking ass and he's not a fucking Fulcrum, he just stole the title from Ahsoka and didn't earn it and he was a shit spy anyway.

Crosshair: Bigoted dickhead who treats everyone like complete crap and then goes full fascist as a punishment for the world when no one wants to risk their lives to save him. His redemption arc was completely half-assed and he should've had to do a LOT more to gain people's forgiveness and absolutely no one should've been forced to apologize to HIM.

Bode Akuna: Basically just Anakin lite and we all know how I feel about Anakin. No sob story justifies anything he's done and I didn't find him all that interesting or sympathetic, personally.

Rafa and Trace Martez: I actually loved them, I thought they had an interesting relationship with each other and with Ahsoka, I appreciated how different they felt and the arc Ahsoka goes on with them. I don't mind that they used them to showcase the rising anti-Jedi sentiment among the citizens of Coruscant, I just wish their opinions hadn't been presented as though they were right. I love that we see they've joined a rebellion of sorts post-Order 66 and I wish we'd gotten to see more of Trace, Rafa, and Rex working together rather than the absolute trashfire that we're actually getting on TBB.

Ahsoka Tano: Relationship status: It's complicated. I DO like her, generally, but I REALLY dislike the way she's constantly written in later stuff to be better than everyone else and to have basically zero flaws so that she can end up like a messiah or a goddess of light reborn or something. It's boring, it's annoying, and it just isn't any good. I particularly don't care for how she consistently gets utilized to bash the Jedi Order and absolve Anakin for all of his sins. Ahsoka deserves better, but I'm also immensely frustrated with where her story's taken her and the way fandom tends to treat her. We also just straight-up need more main female Jedi characters and as long as Ahsoka's around it feels like it'll never happen. She's completely irrelevant to the story overall and I'm annoyed at how much Felony is trying to make her more significant than she is instead of just letting her stand on her own for once.

Sabine Wren: I love the Rebels version of her, but the Ahsoka show version sucks. I have decided it simply does not exist for Sabine. That isn't the real Sabine and it never will be. That's not Sabine's story, the real Sabine would never try to be a Jedi because quite simply she doesn't NEED to be. And the real Sabine would NEVER disrespect Ezra's sacrifice by undoing it and then leaving him to deal with the fallout. It's stupid, it's ugly, and Sabine deserved better.

Hera Syndulla: Much like Sabine, I love the Rebels version of her, but the Ahsoka version sucks. The Ahsoka version deserves to be kicked out of the army or whatever, she's a terrible mother and an even worse General and quite honestly not that great of a friend. The real Hera would NEVER act like orders didn't matter just because she doesn't like them or refuse to see the logic in letting go of Ezra after he's been missing for 10 years so that those resources can go to people who they can confirm are still alive.

Shin Hati: She's so so so boring. She has the personality of cardboard, it basically consists of "crazy eyes" and that's about it. She is pretty literally just Darth Maul but a girl. Like every single part of her character so far is indistinguishable from Maul aside from the cosmetic stuff. I hope she dies in season 2 and never gets a redemption arc. I'd say Sabine deserves better, but honestly Ahsoka!Sabine deserves her.

Grey Jedi: Stop trying to make fetch happen. It's not going to happen. Let Grey Jedi stay in fanon where it belongs, none of your faves are Grey Jedi in canon and they never will be.

283 notes · View notes

graymanshoots · 7 months

Text

See you later

MW3 spoilers read at your own risk!!!!!

Warnings: Heavy Angst, possible military inaccuracies, mwIII spoilers, spoilers, no comfort, They have a son, mitski is the recommended artist to listen to when reading this which should be warning enough.

This is pretty short but I wanted to write something.

Another warning for spoilers just in case you missed the first 3.

"Just another job bonnie and then a’ll be back with ye and the wee one, yeah?" Johnny looked into your eyes, his heart aching at the pain he caused you from leaving.

"You promise?" Your voice shaky as your hands grip his shirt tightly.

Johnny's hands cupped your cheeks gently, wiping away any tears that escaped past your waterline.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. "Promise."

Despite his promise the night before, the tears wouldn't stop when it was finally time for him to go. Your toddler son gurgling absentmindedly, unknowing to why his mother was so tearful.

Standing by the door with your husband's coat in hand, you watch him say his goodbyes to his child.

The sight of him making silly animal noises while playing with the 2-year-old that already looked so much like him, making it hard to keep it together.

It was harder every time he left.

When the boy got tired of playing farm, he crawled off towards his blocks, leaving his father to play on his own.

Johnny lets out a chuckle before standing up and making his way over to you.

A lighthearted smile planted on his handsome face.

“Yer so, so gorgeous, Bonnie," he says, grabbing your hand, pulling you towards him.

You automatically wrap your arms around him, your damp face wetting the front of his shirt.

Johnny's arm comes around your waist while his other hand smooths over the nape of your neck.

"Am gunna miss ye so fuckin' much," he sighs, holding you tighter.

You feel yourself relax in his hold, but the moment is swiftly ruined by the beep of his watch.

"I really don't want you to go," you mutter, knowing that he had no choice in the matter.

"A ken," Johnny says, kissing the top of your head. "Am gunna be late." He finally pulls away, taking his jacket from your hand.

"Goodbye, Johnny, we'll be waiting," you say, already missing his embrace. "No' goodbye, a'll see ye later," Johnny gives you a last kiss before leaving.

If only it was "see you later."

Weeks later, you find yourself crumbling to the ground when a flag is presented to you.

The uniformed man at your door wasn't even audible past your cries.

There was a deep sickness you felt in your stomach, a nausea that bubbled in the back of your throat.

Feeling a hand on your back rubbing soothing circles, you felt yourself calm down. "I'm sorry for your loss…" his voice was soft and held a guilty undertone.

Nothing could have ever prepared you for the agony that was burning through your chest. You'd assume it was akin to a burning knife being pressed into your heart.

Your sadness never turned to anger.

There were never the 5 stages of grief.

It was just hurt, hurt everywhere.

A/N:

I actually cried for hours after playing the campaign.

COD is literally so shit and they literally made a horrible campaign Johnnys death aside.

Nothing made after MWII is canon for me I literally don’t fucking care.

What they did was not good for the story regardl of if it’s a remake.

They aren’t even following the original so them following ever characters death doesn’t matter.

I’m just pissed that they really just gave us bullshit with a shock factor death to take the fucking cake for worst game campaign ever.

Anyways I hoped you all enjoyed I’ll be writing fluff later on to compensate for this.

And if konigsblog is reading thank you for your post about writing a Scottish accent cause it really helped when I was writing this.

81 notes · View notes

turnstechgodhead · 3 months

Text

Le sign... speaking of the server,

dirk is encouraging me to be more firm on my own thoughts for my comfort

i've seen ppl talk about it in stream a lil which im always like I Don't Care when it pops up but i've had Enough and i want to talk about the topic bc it's itching at my brain follicles.

since we're pretty strider-oriented, this had to happen at some point: strider cest/strilonde cest/in cest wont be allowed in the main server. if other people don't care, i might make a separate server.

-"hey why is that ^ something you would allow? pretty insane." / "are you a pro shipper then??"

"so you're an anti?"

also no

i dislike this argument as a whole bc i don't 'get it' i guess because im audhd. neither side is fully correct nor fully wrong.

"fiction affects reality." and "fiction is not reality." are two different thought processes that can and should coexist in the same space.

look. fiction can affect reality, but it IS also possible to separate from it. you can para or whatever responsibly. tag it. try to make sure people who don't want to see it don't have to see it. and if minors are getting sent your shit, make sure its clear that this should NOT be happening in reality. if you're a child, keep that shit blocked. it's NOT for you and you should not be actively consuming it. (please listen to this advice bc i grew up on the internet barely supervised, from a very unhealthily early age [7-8] and then developed into a fucked up hypersexual.) (seeing something fucked up and being like AUGH my eyes! is normal because that just. happens. thats life. you deal with it afterwards in some way. talking to someone you trust etc. you do not go back for more i am begging.) (if someone is showing you these things on purpose then please read this website all the way through for me ok?)

you should not be looking at an adult exploring/enjoying fucked up shit

videogames are not going to make you or me more violent by having violence, gore, and murder in them. but videogames DO make some people violent. those people should not have access to these things. but we (you and i) cannot control that beyond making sure content is labelled and set aside. i like playing games where i assassinate people. i am not an assassin. someone could play the same game and get terrible ideas they act on. this is not my fault for playing the game.

and, if you're an adult who likes fucked up shit (me too) tag your shit or have it listed somewhere on your about that it's something you post about frequently there. and maybe reiterate that it's not real. its just toys. and should never be followed irl. yeah, it fuckin sucks that we gotta do this shit, but kids are unfortunately on the internet, with the inability to differentiate grey from black and white. your shit might be the first exposure. which sucks!! so it's our responsibility to try and mitigate harm on both sides unfortunately until we can convince parents to start parenting their children again. which sucks. i just wanna post shit in peace but the buzzing around from very loud teenagers makes me anxious. i get it.

it fucking sucks!!! but we can't control other people, especially if theyre malicious

but you control what YOU see on the internet. block anyone. (i blocked someone back in the day for disliking johndave. be free.) and help people do that (control what they see) by making it very clear. you aren't evil for not wanting to see it, and other people aren't evil for enjoying fucked up content.

also some of yall on BOTH SIDES do some truly vile shit in the name of this argument when your energy could be spent elsewhere doing shit you like or even doing things that are actually. Helpful.

so i don't like either label i dont want to be associated with either of the sides but if you want to call me one or the other then . Whatever i guess? thats your business, not mine. just know you are not a failure or a freak for not constantly reinforcing and reassuring everyone that you think adults doing their own thing in fictional spaces with little toy dolls (that theyve been doing since the 70s-80s) is gross. you can just think that like. in general and look away because the dolls are dolls. but don't go posting doll horn-knees untagged. that's rude as fuck.

#community infighting is NOT the way. everyone thinks we're ALL fucking weird. just IGNORE each other #timaeus posting #mumbling #dirk is holding me at gun point to post this because he's Tired tm

29 notes · View notes

inconspicious-random-thoughts · 3 months

Note

Honestly I don’t think people are making enough of how Vox got Alastor’s defeat on film: he was so rattled he couldn’t even block himself from the broadcast. I all but guarantee Vox will have Valentino have Angel star in a narrative pron film recreating the events of the finale through that lens, and the fandom will explode.

I really enjoyed Vox live reaction of the hotel preparing and fighting. I wasn't expecting it. I just thought the show would just focus on those in battle. But those cut scene really added so much and im glad it was included. Vox reactions similar to one who watching an intense sport game. Valentinos "Well, this just got more interesting." from Lucifer "I'm going to fuck you!". Velvette not really caring about Vox interest but there for support anyways, only to keep looking up with mild concern or annoyance at Vox overly excited behavior. Finishing with vox voicing the audience thought of "Hole-leee-shit" When Niffty stabbed Adam.

I agree with you Vox manage to film Alastor. I made a post of this early one.

How Alastor interference is an conscious effort. I originally thought before the last episode it was a passive ability he emitted by being the radio demon. We find out its actually its a power he releases purposely at all times. Given, Vox has a clear photograph of Alastor, was able to film Alastor battle since Alastor was too focus on the fight and needed his all his power for the battle.

I am assuming whatever caused Alastor and Vox fallout is partly caused by a recording Vox once had on Alastor that Alastor did not approve of. So Alastor just emitted an aura of static interfacing nonstop since then to prevent it from happening again. Or he just that spiteful regardless.

I don't think the Vees would normally go that far about porn in fear of retaliation but with Alastor clearly weaken, possible. I don't doubt that Vox hired Val workers for his own private collection with Alator likness, or created his own with AI.

But Vox footage of Alastor battle will be brought up in season 2. Either Vox broadcasting it, or used as news clip informing Alastor missing whereabouts (is he dead, or missing for another 7 years or just too embarrassed to show his face?) as Alastor probably laying low from the injury. Or is Vox going to try to use the video as leverage against Alastor into a deal. Either way, it the clip will have some 5 minutes of fame in the next season.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin thoughts #hazbin theory #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vees #hazbin hotel vees #the vees

31 notes · View notes

mychlapci · 3 months

Note

y'know the third? ask i sent in on this blog. the one about sunstreaker getting passed around the air barrack after getting fucked by starscream. i've been thinking about that but from sideswipe's perspective.

i think the twins have the ability to somewhat block what comes through their spark bond, but only in regards to faint sensations/more regulated emotions.

so like, picture sideswipe minding his own business. he's a bit worried about sunny being captured by the decepticons but he knows that his twin will be alright, after all, no one could possibly get to sunstreaker without loosing a servo or having their throat cables torn out

but like, halfway through a shift he feels his panels start to heat up and his valve starts gushing slick. he gets all embarrassed, trying desperately to keep the bond shut bc he does not wanna feel his brother presumably getting assaulted by the enemy but he can't help but moan as he feels the phantom sensation of calipers stretching wide around a spike, his node getting pinched and pulled, and the slide of a glossa against his throat cables.

he staggers back to their habsuite panting and moaning and trying his best not to leak through his panels. he passes a few bots in the hall and they mock him for the slutty expression on his face plates and he weakly protests that it's not him, it's sunstreaker. that it's stupid brother's fault for getting captured and turned on by being fucked by a decepticon

when he finally makes it back to his room he collapses on the floor, panels snapping back and valve pressed against the cold floor as sideswipe rocks in time with the phantom sensations of sunny getting fragged

i have a thing for sunstreaker and sideswipe being unrelentingly horny without a single fucking care for what the other one is doing. like they don't wanna frag each other but neither of them are considerate enough of the other to warn them when they're about to feeling their spike or valve getting fucked.

twin bonds are so much fun for public interfacing, humiliation, and exhibitionism

also i have another idea regarding idw soundwave and rumble + frenzy so if you're interesting in that i'd be happy to sent it in :]

-burnt ice anon

I was recently thinking about the shit we’ve done to Sunstreaker… sighs dreamily. It was really great.

Sideswipe feeling his twin whoring himself out is a top notch fantasy. There is no stimulation yet he can feel the slide of a fat spike against his nodes. His valve flutters hotly around nothing as he stumbles to his hab-suite, trying to send some choice words through the bond. Sunstreaker is clearly enjoying himself in capture, Sideswipe can feel his twin's overloads rolling by, gasping with each because it’s not enough to make Sideswipe’s frame actually release charge, but his processor certainly pretends it is.

I can’t get enough of Sideswipe rubbing himself against the floor, against the edge of his berth, against the corner of his desk…. what if he didn’t make it to his hab-suite though? What if Sideswipe was forced to open his panels in the middle of a hallway, rubbing his valve frantically as he tries to match the phantom pace of those filthy decepticons debauching his brother.

His own humiliation mixes with the humiliation that Sunstreaker is sending through the bond. People walk by and jeer, but Sideswipe can barely just strain out that this is all Sunstreaker’s fault, stop staring.

#hmmm. do send the soundwave idea i would like to see it #valveplug #dubcon #spark bonds

27 notes · View notes

illegiblewords · 5 months

Text

Serious talk about meta under the cut.

I don't know who might need to hear it, but fwiw mental flexibility is a huge part of analysis (and interacting with other humans lol). You need to be able to account for multiple possibilities when examining a work, or understanding a social exchange. You need to be able to separate what is objective fact from your own subjective interpretation and judgment. The most negative interpretation is not automatically the most worthwhile or true. Someone throwing accusations around in-line with their own worst interpretations does not guarantee those accusations are warranted. You are not a bad or stupid person for disagreeing. Shit needs to withstand scrutiny. I don't always strike the right balance myself. I do the best I can but I'm definitely not perfect. Tbh I'm not beyond pettiness either--although I try to keep that out of actual analysis lol. There have been times I've griped to friends privately or blogged about how I felt (sans tags, with spoiler blocks so people can opt out). I've griped recently. I'm bound to gripe again in the future. Some level of griping is inevitable imo and I figure no one is 100% immune.

All that said, even if someone’s take isn't canon AND even if it's something I really dislike--I'd personally rather people follow their passions anyway. Hands down. I could be in the middle of a rant and my answer would still be that the subject of my frustration gets to exist. I'm not the boss and odds are we're going with different versions in our own heads. Discouraging another fan from creating due to my preferences or narrative approach would horrify me. I've seen fandoms where gatekeeping like that killed the creative community and it was fucking awful.

Not everyone is confident in their own judgment. Not everyone faced with a pissed off person trying to use lore and accusations like clubs will feel okay continuing with their own vision. Elitism and manipulation (especially through rhetoric) can be present within analysis. People are not being taught how to recognize those things properly. Analysts aren't always aware or invested enough to even be careful. It’s legit easy to get caught up in ideas or feelings to the point of forgetting about other people’s, and adjusting to account for alternate approaches takes some work. For me at least, I think having a 'no insults' policy and being super careful when it comes to absolute claims (assertions not qualified by 'I think' or 'it could be argued') helps.

Anyway. Just because a person calls something ‘meaningless’ doesn't make it meaningless. Someone pooh-poohing an observation you made doesn't make your observation less true or important. Employing a literary term doesn't mean that individual actually understands the term, how it works, or how to apply it. Which is to say nothing of romantic chemistry or whatever. I encourage readers to extrapolate on this. ‘Shallow’ could apply as much as ‘meaningless’. Denying parallels exist by itself doesn’t actually negate those parallels. Your version of a character may not be the same as the fan next to you’s and that difference doesn't have to detract. There's more I could say on the subject (I've edited out a lot) but basically--just because another fan isn't into what you're doing doesn't automatically make what you're doing wrong, immoral, shoddy, or otherwise less.

Seriously, vet shit. Question the entire premise an analyst tries to establish then decide for yourself if it holds water. Turn over word choices and assertions in your head before deciding if they're appropriate. Do it to me too. I don't care if someone is the holy goddamn emperor of analysts. Just because a person says something is good or bad, true or false, whatever the hell doesn't make it so. Just because a person uses a technical term doesn't mean they're discussing it effectively. Quality of argument matters beyond the packaging it’s wrapped in. It's important to protect yourself from people whose priority is enforcing their own preferences, including dismissing things they aren't partial to.

I just don't want anyone shamed silent man. Not even people whose takes drive me up the fucking wall. Neither I nor any other analyst is an authority here. And there are people who are absolutely ready to take advantage of other people’s insecurities to assert themselves. Might not even be malicious, just indifferent.

For me, analysis feels kind of like uncovering a dinosaur skeleton. I want to share the cool and exciting things I find with other people. Sometimes I might be sorting out what my own thoughts and feelings are. It's also possible to examine why you're uncomfortable with something, or why you love something another person hates, while making very clear what is YOUR READING and not THE READING. Offering a variety of possibilities is very different from presenting yourself as the only correct one. One note at the end when everything else was insulting and intolerant is like a band-aid over a wound.

EDIT: As a last point, that I'm throwing in just-in-case. If anyone reading this thinks they may have overreached and done stuff I've mentioned + feels shitty about it… that's still not the end of the world. It’s okay. This is hard stuff to learn and I really don't think anyone's perfect at it. Worth the effort though. Just gotta take a deep breath, acknowledge you're a fallible human same as everyone else, and do the best you can going forward. Life goes on.

#saw one that horrified me a bit recently #involved a combination of overreaching + insults + purity culture #I can totally imagine buying in and being seriously fucked up by it when I was younger #I don’t want that happening to anyone else #it's okay to talk about NOTPs man but there are more and less responsible ways to do that

31 notes · View notes

eriexplosion · 4 months

Text

REUNION! MY BOY IS COMING BACK HOME IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE!

It's the way that we start with Crosshair talking about his own squad and showing zero real interest in it, just the completely calm assessment that a scout team won't be enough to take them out. Later he's going to actually care that it's His Squad, right now he really does not. No reaction to orders to terminate them. Knowing how much Crosshair gives a shit in every other aspect despite trying SO HARD NOT TO, it just really stands out.

Wrecker's teaching skills.... TEN SECONDS TILL WE"RE BOTH GONERS. HONEY WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? What if we just do all our training by traumatizing the child forever with the possibility of imminent death. But he didn't let her train with a live explosive. He's not crazy!

"I failed my first disarming test too" great was that a smoke bomb or not because knowing the kaminoans and the state of your head I am considering that it was a live explosive.

I love their casual awareness that they're being watched, it's just very attractive when the batch is extremely competent.

"Wrecker says he has it under control" "That's not comforting" THANKS FOR THE VOTE OF CONFIDENCE TECH

This is one of my favorite shots of Echo I just think they look very attractive perched up there. Now on the question of HOW are they perched up there? We just don't know.

Echo still losing it over the mere concept of anything that might make them money because all of it is Crime.

Also I'm keeping a count on how long it takes for Tech's hair to spontaneously reappear, so far he still has his bald patch.

WRECKER CRAVES THE PROTON TORPEDO MORE THAN LIFE.

"Hunter, we're soldiers. What other path is there?" I feel like the ultimate conclusion for the show is going to be a mix of these two's extremes. Hunter wants a path that is fully out of the danger, away from all of it, and that's clearly not going to be allowed to happen. Echo wants a path that they understand, and the soldier's life is safe and comfortable to them. Ultimately, they don't need to just be soldiers, but they also can't just walk away from it all, no one can. The Empire doesn't only come for soldiers.

STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THEY GAVE US THIS SHOT.

"It's most likely a short circuit" right before several ships fly overhead. It is DEFINITELY NOT A SHORT CIRCUIT.

Hunter basically saying 'Tech you know Crosshair's too stubborn to be put off by a blocked scanner'

GOD I AM ALL CAUGHT UP ON THIS ACTUALLY. It's Crosshair, it's his stubbornness, it's his ruthless battle tactics, it's his knowledge, he just doesn't Care about anything but the mission and his orders, when those were always down near the bottom of his priority list before. Now they're all that registers. It's all the things that make him dangerous and none of the things that make him belong with them.

Stop throwing your goddamn toothpicks you filthy littering bitch (affectionate)

Crosshair knowing they'd cut into the comms so he redirected them away from the hangar by saying to push them to the hangar... GENUINELY CHIPPED CROSSHAIR REMAINS THE MOST TERRIFYING THING IN THE SHOW. Cannot outsmart him he knows all the Moves. No wonder they couldn't keep him chipped outside of this, he'd have won eventually if he was still trying this hard.

"Why come after us" honey he doesn't have an OPTION. Hunter and Omega trying to talk him down is sweet but absolutely useless. But then, what other options do they have? The thing is even if they stunned him here, what then, the place is crawling with Imperials and it was the only place they had to remove their chips. If they HADN'T been found here, maybe things would have been different but...

Also I was right, Crosshair didn't learn about the chips until episode eight and it was just Hunter and Omega telling him they existed. Nothing about how they worked, nothing about how powerful they are, and he has no reason to believe them right off. And with only finding out MAYBE half an hour before it gets annihilated with radiation, of course he doesn't believe them. He doesn't really have a reference point to notice he's being controlled on any level.

Still amazed at the sheer coldness of 'aim for the kid though' like Brutal

I think this guy here might be Omega's first kill? She uses her bow several times in Decommissioned, but all of those were droids. I wonder if she's really realized the weight of that yet. Also that her first kill was another clone, which, Ow.

All of that and she's still so small that Tech has to help her jump off a step.

WRECKER I CARE ABOUT TECH'S ION ENGINE INFODUMP DON'T INTERRUPT HIM.

Tech nearly getting sniped here - I stand by my headcanon that the reason Crosshair misses them so often in particular is because the chip has major control but sniping requires SUCH PRECISION that the tiny little muscle twitches that might sneak through, small enough that they wouldn't change anything for any other weapon, are enough to throw his aim off.

TRY AGAIN HUNTER babe I don't know that he can hear you.

"Crosshair wouldn't do that, would he" Omega I cannot emphasize enough that it does not MATTER what Crosshair would do just like it didn't matter what WRECKER would do last episode.

I do really want to know what Plan 7 is

The ion engine coming on and the ring of explosions looks SO good, that's some good fucking animation.

And CROSSHAIR RUNS TOWARDS IT LIKE WHATTTT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO DO HERE?

I mean at least blasting him with radiation will take out the chip but goddamn. The burn scar is SO MUCH and then he fucking falls on that side of his face.

Do you think that the smell of his own flesh burning reminded him at all of the civilians he had killed?

Sorry I'm normal again, Crosshair carries the dark thoughts with him like a cloud.

The reveal of all the dead clones around their ship is so good for Bane's reveal. And this is still so much better having watched TCW because the first time I watched I LITERALLY HAD NO IDEA WHO THE HELL THIS WAS.

The way that he just drops Hunter and the music completely cuts out and then gets really fucking intense no wonder a few people thought for a hot second that they killed Hunter off just like that.

This is also why you can't take the musical cues for if a death is real or not because they WILL go intense whether they're dead or alive if the moment calls for it.

"Get me on the shuttle" what the fuck did the radiation do to the chip that it turned Crosshair completely feral for a hot second because he is barely breathing and he's like I AM GOING TO COMMIT MURDER RIGHT NOW.

GOD I LOVE THE POV SHOT FROM HUNTER'S HELMET. The way they do this with Omega too later (and honestly it would be amazing setup for doing the same thing with Tech's goggle recordings come on it is RIGHT THERE)

#the bad batch rewatch

20 notes · View notes

pagesfromthevoid · 1 year

Text

Traicionero | j.p.

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Word Count: 9.9k (Ahaha woops)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence. Oral (f receiving). P in V sex. Fingering. Dubious consent (Javi is drunk when he gets to her). Plot with smut basically. Poorly translated Spanish. Possibly OOC Javier?

Author’s Note: I don’t even know why I wrote this. More importantly I don’t know why I needed any sort of plot to fuck Javier Peña but alas. Here we are. Also, yes. I totally got the opening line from Teen Wolf. Don't fuckin' judge me.

Requests are OPEN

“Do you wanna hear it in Spanish, Peña?” She mocked, standing tall in front of the ambassador’s office door. He was glaring down at her, eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Fucking clever, princesa,” he countered, reaching out to move her. But she blocked his hands.

“Touch me, and I swear to God, Peña —Escobar will be the least of your concerns.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary,” he taunted, grabbing her upper arms to move her once more. With her heel, she slammed her foot into his boot and he cussed angrily and released her. “Jesus Christ. Just let me through.”

“I’m under strict orders to let no one in this office. Especially you.”

As the new assistant to the Ambassador of the US in Columbia, she wasn’t about to risk her job because of some pretty boy agent who thought he was the shit. Crosby had made himself very clear when she was hired: don’t let Peña boss her around; don’t let Murphy guilt trip her. She was the fourth assistant in three years, with the other three having quit due to pressure or been fired for not being able to follow orders.

Crosby blamed Javier Peña for the first two quitting; certain the agent didn’t call or hurt their feelings enough to make the women refuse to work with him. The third one was fired for leaking information to the press.

She would be different. She already was. Agent Peña wasn’t going to get her in bed, for one. He’d tried during her first week. Flirted up a goddamn storm. Complimented everything about her from her hair to her nails to her shoes. It was a fine daydream at first —he was pretty and polite as far as she could tell —until Crosby called her into his office and warned her.

So she stopped with that dangerous daydream, choosing to ignore Peña. Just because he was attractive didn’t give him the right to fuck around with everything that had a pulse. Besides, the whole better-than-you thing he had going on annoyed her after the second week. And the way he kept looking at her —like she was a piece of meat needing to be inspected —made her never want to wear a skirt again.

Which she hadn’t, by the way. She had taken to wearing slacks and flowy blouses that didn’t expose more skin than necessary. Was it inconvenient in the Colombian heat? Absolutely. But did it keep Agent Peña from staring at her? Not really at first, but he didn’t do it as much now. And that’s what she cared about.

“I will happily schedule you an appointment,” she offered, though she didn’t step away from the office door.

“Yeah, next fucking year.”

“Actually, I think he has an opening tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I needed him 10 minutes ago, sweetheart. Not gonna fly.”

She just shrugged, hands on her hips as they stared each other down. However, maybe Peña realized he had been beaten. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to fight with her anymore. Because finally, he threw his hands in the air and stormed off, bitching about wasting his time.

Fifteen minutes later, however, Steve Murphy tried his hand.

“I really recommend you walk away from me, Agent Murphy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

———

Four months into the job, and the war against Pablo Escobar, Ambassador Crosby ordered her to take up a desk at the base. She didn’t argue, given his reasoning was solid (“I need someone there to filter through the bullshit. They come to you, you call me.”). However, her new position meant a significant lifestyle change that was a bit more abrupt than she expected.

Turns out, living on a Colombian military base was awful. And even more so, if you were American. And a woman. And as if those two things didn’t make her question quitting her job almost daily (not that she would, but goddamn, she wanted to lately with the amount of bloodied soldiers and cops that came in) —it meant spending an annoying amount of time with Murphy and Peña, who had been sidelined.

Her desk was ten feet away from where the two DEA agents set up their space. Murphy offered to push her closer, joking that they could be the three musketeers, but she just returned to the paperwork she had already filled out, ignoring him.

“One of these days, you’re gonna be thankful it’s us here and not anyone else, hermosa,” Peña stated one evening, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from his lips.

“I’ll be thankful when you actually manage to catch Escobar instead of fucking up raids,” she countered, not looking up from the notes she was rewriting for Martinez.

Murphy laughed at that, and she glanced up as his chair creaked when he leaned back in it. “She’s got a point there, Javi.”

“Shut the fuck up. Whose side are you on?”

“The side that’s usually right,” Murphy continued, looking at her with a grin.

She almost made a comment regarding listening to his wife if that was the case, but she stopped herself. It had been a bad day when he stormed out of the base the afternoon that Connie left; she wasn’t that cruel.

“Flattery gets you nowhere with me.” She hummed a bit, setting her pen down and rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. The words were jumbling together, and translating from English to Spanish was difficult for someone who was not fluent in the language. And low on caffeine.

“Oh, we know,” Peña replied, sitting on his desk. “If it did, we’d have so much more intel —,”

“Agent Peña,” she interrupted, looking up at him with tired eyes. For a moment, she swore he looked concerned but she chalked it up to wishful thinking; thinking he could care about anyone but himself was a reckless path to put herself on. “As much as I just love listening to you bitch about me doing my job correctly —I can’t handle it right now. So either get me coffee, or shut the fuck up.”

Neither he nor Murphy said another word, looking between each other for a moment before Murphy motioned for him to move. Peña was about to slide off his desk when the phone rang, and his attention snapped back to his actual task at hand as he answered it. She blinked a few times, shaking her head for a second to wake herself up, before she stood up.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she let out a quiet groan as her joints popped. When was the last time she stood up? It felt like it had been hours.

Peña looked at her curiously, phone still pressed to his ear. He paused for a moment, hand over the bottom of the receiver, and this time, she was sure there was concern evident in his tone. "You okay?"

She paused, surprised by the genuine concern in his tone. Dropping back into her chair, she ran a hand over her face, trying to think of something witty to say. But Peña's unexpected display of empathy caught her off guard. For a moment, she considered brushing it off with a dismissive remark, but the weariness in her body won over her usual defenses.

"You actually wanna know?” She asked, eying him closely as she wondered if he actually cared. But Peña nodded, kicking his feet up on his desk as he leaned back his chair, motioning for her to keep talking. She hesitated a moment before she finally spoke, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. "Long nights, endless paperwork…I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Understanding flickered in Peña's gaze, and he nodded sympathetically. "I get it," he replied, glancing at the phone for a moment before he let out a frustrated huff, though he motioned to the phone as if to say he was reacting to the caller. “Look, those notes are gonna be there when you get back. Martinez won’t be here for an hour or two anyway. Why don't you take a break, grab some fresh air –there’s a café down the street from the base that has the good shit.”

She opened her mouth to argue –to make some snide comment about his knowledge of the area –but stopped herself. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let her guard down. Peña may have shown a brief moment of concern, but she knew better than to trust his actions completely. She had learned from both experience and word of mouth that he had his own agenda. She wasn't about to let her guard down just because of a momentary lapse in his usual demeanor.

But…maybe she’d be a little nicer, if only because he was also being nice. The skepticism still lingered, but she couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps there was a genuine moment of connection between them, however fleeting it might be.

“Do you want anything?”

He looked back at her, his brow raised as he considered her offer. A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he snuffed out his cigarette and hung up the phone. "Finally offering to do a coffee run? Took ya long enough," he teased, his usual annoying self resurfacing. “Not today, cariño. Maybe tomorrow.”

Her momentary hope deflated, replaced by annoyance. So much for his newfound niceness.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and adjusting the strap on her shoulder. "Unlikely," she retorted, brushing past him as she walked out of the base.

When she returned an hour later, coffee in hand and the sun setting over the Colombian horizon, she found that her notes were typed up and translated, sitting in a neat pile on her desk. The aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the fading daylight, creating a sense of calm in the otherwise chaotic office. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the makeshift space they called an office, the empty chairs and silent surroundings indicating that Murphy and Peña were both long gone for the night.

A mix of surprise and intrigue washed over her. She hadn't expected anyone to take the initiative to organize her notes, especially not Peña. It was a small act, but it hinted at a flicker of unexpected consideration. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

With a curious smile tugging at her lips, she sat down at her desk, her fingers tracing the neatly typed pages. As she perused the translations, she couldn't help but appreciate the effort that had gone into it. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring its warmth as she leaned back in her chair, contemplating the possibilities. Tomorrow would only bring more chaos –such was the life they lived in Colombia –but for now, she would appreciate what felt like an olive branch being extended.

Maybe she would be a little nicer to Javier Peña.

———

“Come out with us,” Steve offered about two months later, leaning back in his chair.. “We finally gotta win –we’re all going out to celebrate.”

In the weeks that followed Peña’s random act of kindness, the three Americans found themselves on far friendlier terms than before. Sure, Javier was still narcissist of the year —but he was nicer about it. What she would have deemed snarky commentary before had become a back and forth banter that Murphy swore up and down was flirting. Each time he made that comment, she gave him a dirty look and rolled her eyes, always responding with something along the lines of In his fucking dreams.

To which Peña would always have a comeback, usually following suit of Always in my dreams, cariño or something equally as cheesy. It was always returned with a little smirk on her end, or a wink from him.

Okay so maybe it was flirting.

But it was friendly flirting. Nothing more. That path was reckless, even if she was starting to hate him a little less than before.

“And watch you get shit faced while Peña flirts with anyone with a pulse?” She countered, fanning herself with the folder in her hand. Summer had hit Colombia hard, and she was melting in her blouse and slacks. Even pulling her hair up didn’t stop her from feeling like her body was more liquid than skin. “I’d rather not.”

“Got better plans?”

“Maybe I booked a nice hotel for the night so I could pamper myself,” she mused, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at the blonde agent. “Maybe I have a date. Who knows? It’s not really your business, is it?”

“There’s not any nice hotels around here, so try again,” Steve teased back, moving to sit on her desk now as he looked down at her. “About the date…I mean, you could but do you actually?”

She gave him a pointed look, before glancing around the base. One of the soldiers was walking by with a box of files, and she called out his name –Andrés. He paused, leaning over the rail to give her his full attention, just as Peña stormed into the base. She didn’t pay him too much attention as she smiled up at the soldier, batting her lashes some as she asked him out. Peña, however, stopped and watched the interaction, brow furrowed.

“¿Salgamos esta noche?”

The soldier looked surprised for a moment but nodded rapidly, smiling brightly at her as he offered to get her at 7. “Absolutamente. ¿Siete?”

“Suena bien.”

The soldier nodded again and walked off to finish his work, clearly a little more pep in his step. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave Murphy a smug grin. “You were saying?”

Steve just rolled his eyes in exasperation as Peña abruptly yanked his chair out, carelessly tossing his jacket onto the desk. She observed the interaction between them, her brow raised in curiosity as Peña began rummaging through his drawers, seemingly searching for something.

"What's wrong, Javi?" Steve asked, pushing himself off her desk and approaching his partner, concern etched on his face.

"Nothing," Peña snapped, his tone sharp and dismissive. He retrieved a cigarette from the drawer and swiftly lit it, remaining tight-lipped and refusing to offer any further explanation.

She watched as Steve glanced back at her momentarily, a mixture of frustration and confusion evident on his face. Sensing that they were about to engage in a private conversation, they leaned in closer to each other, their voices dropping to hushed whispers that shielded their conversation from her ears.

Unable to catch their words, she watched Steve’s back with a deep frown. It was moments like this, where the two shielded themselves from her earshot, that reminded her that they weren’t properly friends. They didn’t trust her not to rat them out to Crosby. The secrecy between the two partners only reminded her that she was not part of this little team of theirs.

Peña abruptly stood again, frustration etched on his face, and snatched his jacket once more. Steve, mirroring his partner's actions, swiftly straightened up and retrieved his own coat. He cast a brief glance back at her, his eyes reflecting weariness but also attempting to offer a reassuring smile, before the two of them hastily exited the base. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed through the room, fading into the distance as they disappeared beyond the door.

Left behind, she remained seated for a moment, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and concern. She stared intently at the retreating backs of Javier and Steve, their forms gradually vanishing from view. Questions flooded her thoughts, demanding answers to what the hell just happened.

***

She ended up canceling her last minute date, having decided that whatever was going on with Peña and Murphy was probably far more important than proving a point to Murphy that she could get a date.

It had been nearly three hours since the two agents practically ran out of the base, and while she didn’t directly ask Crosby what was going on, she tried to dance around the question. The ambassador just told her that someone was leaking information to Los Pepes, allowing the vigilante group to take down another one of Pablo’s guys without the DEA or Colombian police being involved. Crosby told her to keep an ear and eye out for anything off and well…

Javier Peña was off that afternoon.

However, she didn’t mention that.

She just promised she would and hung up, running her hands through her hair as she considered what to do next. As she tried to focus on her work, she pushed thoughts of Javier Peña from her mind. If she even began to think that Peña was the one leaking intel, then she would panic around him and she knew that was no good. It wouldn’t end well for anyone involved, especially if he wasn’t.

Another half an hour passed before Peña’s phone rang again. For the first few rings, she ignored it. It rang all the time –usually tips and intel, or Messina calling to scold him. Usually, it would stop and go to his voicemail. Tonight, however, it stopped then rang again. After the third time, she huffed in annoyance and stood, picking up the receiver. Before she could say anything, however, a voice that she’d only heard through captured recordings, hissed in her ear: Don Berna.

“I thought we were meeting for coffee, Peña?”

Immediately, she hung up the phone and stepped away, her eyes wide. Silently, she cursed to herself as she hurried back to her desk and grabbed her bag and satellite phone then rushed out the doors of the base. Maybe it was just a cartel guy who wanted to turn a new leaf. There wasn’t a reason to think that Peña was working with Berna or feeding him information. She couldn’t just assume the worst.

Okay, so that wasn’t true.

She always assumed the worst in Javier Peña. She had since the moment she met him, and she had continued even after he proved he wasn’t necessarily the worst. But she couldn’t assume that he was actually helping Los Pepes kill innocent people just to get to Escobar. There was just…there was no way.

“Answer your phone, you jackass,” she hissed into her satellite phone, listening to it ring a few times before being hung up on. She dialed it again, getting into her car with it pressed to her ear. “Javier Peña, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you myself –,”

“What the fuck do you want?” He answered, voice clipped and laced in anger.

“I think we need to meet,” she replied, and she wondered if he could hear the trembling in her voice. “For coffee.”

There was a silence that hung between the lines, static being the only sound that filled the cracks. She was shaking, her heart threatening to break through her ribcage as she waited for him to speak. To own up, or lie, or anything.

“Agent Peña,” she hissed, trying to get him to say something back to her.

“I’ll be at the café in ten minutes.”

“Is that the same one you fucking meet –,”

“Shut your damn mouth,” he snapped at her, hanging up the phone.

She stared at it blankly, taking a moment to calm her nerves before she threw it into the passenger seat and took off into town. Maybe it would have been better to walk, give her time to cool down and find a reason to justify why a cartel boss would be calling her, but she wanted a quick getaway if everything suddenly went south.

Not that she thought Peña would do anything to her –but she couldn’t be sure anymore.

She parked outside the café, sitting in her car for several minutes before she considered even getting out. What she should be doing is going back to the base, calling the ambassador, and telling him what she had learned. How could she be risking her goddamn job because of Javier fucking Peña? In what world did that make any sense, especially given how –

The passenger side of her car swung open abruptly, and a jolt of surprise shot through her body, causing her to let out a startled yelp. Instinctively, she pressed herself further into the door, her back firmly planted against it, as Peña climbed into the car. The sudden proximity between them made her acutely aware of his presence, and a mix of emotions washed over her like a tidal wave.

Her heart pounded in her chest, its rapid beats echoing in her ears, as she struggled to regain her composure. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, momentarily frozen by the intensity of the situation. The surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins made her briefly contemplate the idea of delivering a forceful blow to his face—a physical manifestation of the frustration and exasperation he had caused with his reckless actions.

As her mind raced, grappling with conflicting thoughts and emotions, his voice cut through the silence, jolting her back to reality.

"What did he say?" he demanded, his tone firm and unwavering.

She found herself gaping at him, caught off guard by the absence of denial in his response. The sheer audacity of his nonchalance left her momentarily speechless. A mix of anger and disbelief flickered in her eyes as she struggled to find her voice.

"You're not even going to deny it?" she managed to utter, her words laced with a blend of astonishment and accusation.

Peña met her gaze, his own eyes locking with hers, unflinching. "Why the fuck would I? You already know," he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're not an idiot."

His words struck a nerve, and she felt a surge of conflicting emotions within her—anger, disappointment, but also a lingering sense of understanding. But that understanding was being overtaken by the sheer anger she felt towards the agent. She watched as he briefly glanced out the back window, seemingly checking for any signs of surveillance, before returning his focus to her, leaning in closer.

"What did he say?" he repeated, this time his voice softer, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability amidst the tension that hung in the air.

Her initial impulse was to withhold the information, to maintain an element of control and power in this nightmare they were engaged in. But as she looked into his eyes, the walls she had built around herself began to crumble.

“He just…he said he thought you were meeting him for coffee,” she explained, looking up at him with a small frown and her brow furrowed.

Peña's eyes darted away, unable to meet her gaze directly. His usual confident demeanor wavered, revealing a hint of guilt that played across his features. A heavy silence filled the car, punctuated only by the sound of their collective breaths. She waited anxiously for his response, her heart pounding in her chest, hoping against hope that he would vehemently deny the accusation. But as the seconds stretched into an eternity, his admission hung in the air, weighted with a sense of betrayal.

A mix of disbelief and anguish washed over her, the realization hitting her like a brick through a window. Her voice trembled as she spoke again, her words laced with a mix of sorrow and desperation. "Peña...please, tell me it's not actually you that's leaking our intel to Los Pepes."

He sighed heavily, a mixture of regret and resignation etched on his face. "I wish I could say it's not true," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I've made some choices...choices that I thought were necessary, because things weren’t getting done.”

Her world seemed to crumble around her, the foundation of trust they had built eroded in an instant. A whirlwind of emotions raged within her—anger, hurt, and a profound sense of disappointment. She had trusted him, relied on him for months because she didn’t have a damn choice, actually managed to kind of like the bastard and now that trust lay shattered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Javier?” She demanded, pushing herself upright, scrambling to hit him anywhere she could. She wasn’t necessarily the strongest, and truthfully didn’t really know how to throw a punch, but she was angry. And he deserved to be fucking hit.

And he let her.

He sat there, stoic and unmoving, his face a mask of acceptance. He made no attempt to dodge or defend himself, allowing her fists to rain down upon him. Her poorly trained punches landed on his arms, her fists colliding with his solid form, but he didn’t flinch or retaliate. His passive response only fueled her anger further.

The sound of her strikes echoed in the air, each smack a cathartic release of frustration and disappointment. Her fists became a conduit for her emotions, as if the physical pain she inflicted upon him could somehow alleviate the emotional pain within her. But with each blow, she realized the uselessness of her actions.

As her punches gradually weakened, exhaustion and sadness began to replace her initial rage. The weight of the situation pressed upon her, and she felt the heaviness in her limbs. Her fists gradually dropped to her sides, her trembling hands a reflection of the turbulent storm of emotions raging within her.

She looked at him, searching for any sign of remorse or explanation in his eyes. But his gaze offered no explanation; nothing that he was able to say to make her feel better. He knew what he did, and she knew he didn’t regret it.

Breathing heavily, she fell back into her door, the intensity of the moment hanging between them. The anger that had fueled her actions now subsided, leaving a void filled with a mixture of disappointment and a longing for answers. The silence between them seemed to stretch on, punctuated only by the heavy silence of unspoken words.

“Get out of my car, Javier.”

He swallowed hard, she could hear it, before he pushed her door open. As he turned to get out, he paused, looking back at her. She stared forward, gripping her steering wheel tight enough that her knuckles were white.

“I…,” he took a breath, looking down for a moment before he shook his head and got out. “Can’t believe it took this long for you to call me by my first name.”

She let out a watery laugh, trying to keep herself from crying. He stared at her for several moments, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead opting to start her car and wipe her eyes. For just a little while, she really thought maybe he wasn’t that bad. That Javier Peña was actually a decent person, who she was begrudgingly attracted to. She knew that he and Steve did things a bit against the rules; it was hard not to see it. But this was too far, even by that standard.

She took a deep breath, swallowing down her tears again. “I was so close to not hating you —,”

“If you’re gonna tell Crosby —,”

They spoke over each other, and both stopped as they waited for the other to finish.

“I’m not,” she finally said, before she could stop herself. But she still refused to look at him. “I…I’m not gonna tell him, Peña. Consider it the only favor I’ll ever do for you.”

He let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head as he finally got out of her car. The door slammed against the frame, and she watched from the corner of her eye as he walked around the front to her side of the car. Hesitating, she rolled the window down, finally meeting his gaze as he rested his hand on the roof, leaning down.

“Thank you, hermosa,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned into the car further. “And for what it’s worth —I’ve never hated you.”

Truthfully, she didn’t hate him either. Looking up at him from her seat, she had the sudden urge to pull him into a tight hug; tell him it was okay. That she understood why he did it.

But she’d be lying if she did. Because she didn’t understand; not really.

———

He was drunk.

No, that wasn't accurate.

He was shit-faced.

Javier stumbled through the dimly lit bar, his movements unsteady and his mind clouded by a swirling haze of alcohol. The weight of his actions bore down on him, threatening to suffocate him with a potent mix of guilt and self-loathing. Each step he took was a struggle, as if the weight of his choices had multiplied tenfold.

He had watched her drive away, leaving an empty void in his chest. The taillights of her car faded into the distance, a visual representation of the fracture he had caused in the barely there friendship they had in the first place. She wasn’t supposed to find out; no one was.

Driven by a mix of remorse and self-loathing, he turned on his heel and sought solace in the numbing embrace of a bottle of whiskey. The nearest bar became his sanctuary, a place where he could drown his sorrows and temporarily escape the consequences of his actions. He slumped onto a barstool, his weary eyes scanning the array of bottles lining the shelves.

As the minutes turned into hours, the world around him became distorted. The sounds of laughter and chatter blended into white noise that didn’t make any sense, and the faces of the patrons merged into indistinguishable shapes. His vision blurred, mirroring the fog that clouded his mind.

Javier's drunken stupor was a feeble attempt to escape the weight of his actions, to find temporary solace in a realm of blurred lines and diminished responsibility. But as the alcohol seeped into his veins, it only served to deepen his self-disgust. The numbness it brought was merely a hollow facade, concealing the pain and regret that gnawed at his core.

As the night wore on and the effects of alcohol began to really make him think shitty ideas were good ones. With the memory of her face —disappointed, angry, teary eyed —front and center in his mind, Javier made a decision.

He needed to see her, even if it meant facing the wrath of her anger and disappointment. It didn't matter that it was late in the night or that his thoughts were still muddled from the alcohol. He couldn't let her think he was this bad man, trying to fuck up everything they were working towards.

And he didn’t want her to hate him. Jesus fucking Christ, Javier didn’t want to go back to her snapping at him every time he spoke. Or glaring at him over her paperwork whenever he asked her questions. He liked whatever they had going on —flirting, banter, whatever it was.

Javier wanted it to keep happening.

Javier just wanted her, however she would take him. And by her reaction tonight, in her car, his whiskey-addled brain saw something that he hadn’t seen before.

Driven by a mix of determination and a glimmer of hope, Javier left the confines of the bar and stumbled through the dimly lit streets. Every step was unsteady, but his movements were fueled by a desperate need to find her and see her again.

Minutes felt like hours as he walked down the streets towards the apartments she lived in. The weight of his actions sat heavily on his shoulders, and while he didn’t regret what he was doing —he needed to at least apologize to her.

Finally, he arrived at her doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he knocked on the door. As he waited, he rehearsed the words he wanted to say to her, hoping that they sounded at least somewhat coherent.

There was shuffling from behind her door, and Javier glanced at his watch with a frown —realizing it was well past midnight.

“Shit.”

Panicking, and suddenly feeling far more sober than he was when he was making the walk there, he turned on his heel to walk away. His hands ran through his hair as he started cursing himself for being so fucking stupid.

As Javier turned to leave, his heart pounding in his chest, he heard her voice calling out to him, stopping him in his tracks. He slowly turned back, his eyes meeting hers. She clearly had been woken up by him, her hair braided but messy from sleep.

She stood in her doorway, arms crossed over her chest, in her pajamas. Just a thin tank top that revealed the curve of her shoulders and shorts that showcased her slender legs and a look of confusion and frustration on her pretty face.

Unable to tear his gaze away from her, Javier felt his resolve crumble. The urge to be close to her, to reach out and hold her, consumed him. He took a hesitant step towards her, his heart pounding in his chest. His voice was a mere whisper as he spoke, filled with a mixture of longing and guilt.

She stepped back, frowning. “Are you drunk?”

He stopped short, recognizing her concern. But he nodded slowly, swallowing hard as he did so. “Just, uh. Just a bit, yeah.”

“Go home, Javier.”

“I can’t, cariño,” he admitted, running his hands over his face then up through his hair. “I…I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

He considered his options –both, neither. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave (though he definitely couldn’t), but he knew why he wouldn’t.

They stood there in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of their complicated relationship hanging in the air. Javier struggled to find the right words, to express the turmoil churning within him. He was not accustomed to vulnerability, especially not with someone like her. They weren’t friends. They didn’t even like each other most days.

That wasn’t exactly true, though. In recent weeks, they had gotten on better than before. Closer, friendlier. He liked having that in his life, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“You hate me,” he finally managed to say, leaning against her door frame to look down at her. “And that’s fine. I deserve that.”

Her eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of something that he couldn’t pinpoint flashing over her face. She glanced down either end of the hallway, Javier following her movements, before she pushed her door open fully and motioned for him to come inside. There was clear hesitation on his end, standing stiff there for a moment as he considered what she wanted.

“If you can’t leave, Javier, then you need to come inside before I shut the door in your face.”

Decision made for him, he stepped through into the threshold of her apartment, breath stuck in his throat. As she stepped back into her apartment, shutting and locking the door, the atmosphere shifted from the tension-filled hallway to a space that bore the traces of familiarity and comfort.

He couldn’t help but look around her home –something he truthfully thought he’d never see, because let’s face it: she didn’t want him there. Even if they were friends.

The living area was tastefully decorated, and the walls were adorned with framed photographs capturing cherished memories and moments of laughter. In the corner, a small bookshelf stood on the opposite side of the couch, covered in various books and pieces of her that pulled it all together. The couch was the same couch as his –one provided by the embassy to ensure their agents and workers were at least somewhat comfortable. But throw pillows were stacked haphazardly on each end, with a blanket tossed back as if that was where she was asleep.

It must have been, because the bottle of open wine and empty wine glass sat on her coffee table. Javier stared at it blankly, considering the things he’d done to cause her to want to drink her problems away like he had that night.

She pushed him some, towards the couch, before she yanked the blanket into her arms and sat down. Javier hesitated again –where was the confidence he used to radiate when a woman let him into their home? He should feel cocksure and horny; the one unobtainable woman he’d been pining for since she arrived in Colombia was pushing him onto her couch while she barely wore clothing.

But that wasn’t why he was there. And that wasn’t what she was doing. He wasn’t there to seduce her, or fuck her. He was there to beg for her forgiveness; to have her be his fucking friend again.

"I don’t hate you,” she finally sighed, running her hands over her face. “Not anymore, I mean. I did, at least a couple months ago.”

“What changed that?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the couch, looking down at his hands.

“You finished my notes for me. The ones for Martinez, when we first got set up at the base.”

He blinked a few times, trying to pull up the memory of doing that for her. She never asked him for anything; either out of spite or because she didn’t want to rely on him. But then he nodded some, huffing out a weak laugh as he did.

“You looked like you were going to fall asleep at your desk,” he explained, looking up at her finally. “I just…I felt bad; figured I’d give you a break.”

“That’s when I decided I didn’t actually hate you,” she admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest as she looked at him. “I don’t know if I liked you, per se –that took a little longer to accept; that I liked you. That I thought we were friends –but I didn’t dislike you. And I…still don’t hate you.”

Hearing that she thought they were friends made Javier’s heart absolutely ache. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. It was in that moment that he realized his feelings ran deeper than he had ever admitted to himself. She looked at him as a friend, and Javier was suddenly realizing he wanted her more than that.

“Probably should.”

“I should,” she agreed, but then she shrugged some, taking a deep breath as she tried to fight back a yawn. “I don’t though. I’m just…I’m disappointed, Javier. Angry, because now I have to lie to the fucking ambassador of the United States. Risk my job. Pretend that I don’t know you’re actually a moron who makes shitty decisions.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” he told her, shaking his head. “You should be covering your own ass, not mine. I told Murphy the same thing –,”

“Good to know that Steve is also a fucking idiot –,”

“Listen to me,” he cut off, turning to face her properly, suddenly serious as he stared her down. “If anyone asks –if someone even so much as hints at you knowing whose working with Los Pepes –you fucking tell them the truth. Do you understand me?”

He watched her closely, his heart pounding in his chest as she contemplated his words. Her exhaustion was evident, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for adding to her burden. But he needed her to understand, to protect herself and let go of any association with him. He didn't deserve her loyalty, especially after what he had done.

“I’d be smart to walk away," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "It would be the right thing, the safe thing. Kick you out, call the embassy. But..." She paused, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper as she continued, "I care about you, for some stupid ass reason. So, maybe I won't tell anyone anything. Maybe I'll protect you."

Her response, however, caught him off guard. Her voice, tinged with weariness and vulnerability, carried a sense of tenderness that he didn't expect. He listened intently, his eyes locked on hers, as she admitted her conflicted feelings. Javier's breath hitched as she revealed her concern; how she felt about him. His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude, disbelief, and a touch of apprehension. How could she still care after all of this? After everything he’d done to her, how he’d treated her, and what he was putting her through now?

He wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, to thank her for her unexpected act of compassion. But a mix of emotions churned inside him, leaving him at a loss for words. Instead, he simply nodded, his throat tight with a gratitude that was choking him.

In that moment, he knew that her decision carried its own risks. He knew that he didn't deserve her protection or her care. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through his chest, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of what he was doing.

As they sat there, something shifted between the two. There was a thread –a thin, barely there thread that tied them together now. And in that fragile thread, Javier found some sort of comfort.

“I’m going to bed, Javier,” she sighed, standing up from the couch with a yawn. “You can stay here, if you want –on the couch.” The last part was added quickly, as if she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn’t offering up her bed to him in any way.

He shook his head though, standing up as well. She looked up at him, and Javier couldn’t help but notice just how close the two of them were suddenly. They stood just inches apart, tired eyes gazing at one another. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, his heart pounding in his chest, but he looked away quickly.

“I appreciate it, but I should go,” Javier replied, his voice slightly hoarse. He tried to ignore the sudden urge of longing that coursed through him; ignore the desire to bridge the distance between them and pull her into his arms. But he couldn't act on those feelings, not now, not after everything.

She nodded, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. He could tell she was wrestling with her own conflicting emotions, just as he was. They both knew the boundaries they had set, the unspoken rules that controlled their actions. As they stood there, their gazes locked, Javier's resolve wavered. He wanted to kiss her suddenly. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her lips. He wanted to lose himself in her.

He was about to pull away; leave her alone for the night so they could pretend nothing happened when they got to work later. But then he felt her hand gently cup his cheek. Her touch was soft, her eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and a longing of her own. In that moment, she was the one that tore down the boundaries she had put up.

Deciding that he couldn’t take it anymore —gravity was too much and he couldn’t escape the pull of her touch against his skin —he closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands as he pressed his mouth to hers. Months –he’d spent months wanting to kiss her to shut her up. Use the action to get her to be quiet, to stop scolding him. But now, she wasn’t yelling at him or arguing with him. She was pulling him into her touch, biting at his lip, returning the kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling herself closer as returned the kiss –biting his bottom lip as she responded with equal fervor. It was unexpected, her immediate response, but Javier wasn’t going to push her away now that he had what he wanted.

Tracing his tongue along the seam of her lip, he coaxed her lips open and licked into her mouth. A quiet whimper escaped her, and Javier swore he could feel it in his very bones as he pushed her back towards the couch again. One of his hands dropped to her hip, holding her against him tight, as the other tangled into her hair. She mimicked his motions, her hand finding its way down his chest to the exposed skin under his collar as the other tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

As he pushed her into the couch, refusing to break the kiss, she pulled him down on top of her. He rested on his knees, caging her beneath him as her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt. His hands rested above her head, nipping at her bottom lip again while she finally pushed his shirt open and ran her nails down his chest. He hummed into the kiss, rolling his hips into hers involuntarily before finally breaking away to rest his forehead against hers.

They both breathed heavily, staring at each other with lust blown eyes. Her eyes darted from his face down, then back up at him and Javier wondered, momentarily, what she was thinking. Because all he could think about was slipping his hand under her shirt and feeling her skin against his.

“I can’t just be one of your hook ups,” she whispered, grabbing his wrist to stop him from moving further up. “I won’t be, Javier.”

He stared down at her, catching his breath as he slowly nodded. He understood the weight of her words, the depth of her desire for something more meaningful. He pulled his hand back, trailing his fingers over the skin of her stomach gently until his hand wasn’t under her shirt anymore. Instead, he rested it against the fabric of her top, looking down at her.

“You won’t be,” he assured her, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised even him. “I…I haven’t — this won’t be —I’ve wanted for months….I want you, cariño.”

She searched his eyes, searching for any sign of deception or doubt, but all she found was a sincerity that mirrored her own. Wanting to find comfort in her touch again, Javier leaned in and pressed his lips to her chin –light, barely there. But enough to cause her to suck in a breath as if he had bit her. His hand slipped back under her stop, grasping at the hem of the thin fabric, so he could pull it up carefully. It was easily pulled over her head and tossed to the floor with his shirt –leaving them both bare from the waist up and pressed against one another.

Her hands, somehow impossibly soft, traced down his arms, nails barely grazing his skin. It was a careful gesture, but it was all he needed to continue. Taking to her wandering hands, Javier wrapped them back around his neck before his hands trailed down her sides until they settled at her waist. She sighed at the touch, tugging him closer to her as he gently clasped her waist, drawing her nearer, their bodies pressed together. His fingers pressed into her skin, no doubt leaving marks where his nails dug in. A gasp escaped her, mingling vulnerability with desire, as his tongue slipped into her mouth again.

Enthusiastically, she pulled him even closer, pressing her body against his like he had dreamed of so many times before. At any moment, he expected to awaken in his bed, painfully alone –painfully hard –left with nothing but fantasies of her consuming his mind. But the feeling of her biting his lip, of her hands fumbling with the button of his jeans reminded him that this was real. She was there, under him, touching him back just as desperately as he was touching her.

“Gonna take care of you, hermosa…,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her mouth down her jaw, to her throat. His hands deftly tugged at her shorts, trying to push them down her hips.

Her hips rose to meet his touch, helping him get rid of the last two pieces of her clothing that kept her from him. Once her shorts were tossed to the growing mess of clothes on her floor, his fingers trailed between her thighs, pressing just barely into her. Her head fell back into the arm of the couch as she whispered his name, as if trying to beg for more. He grinned into the skin of her throat before pressing a kiss there.

“Tell me what you want,” he continued, nipping at her collarbone as his other hand reached up to palm at her breast.

“Take off your pants,” she ordered –though she was breathless and arching into his touch.

Javier chuckled almost darkly into her skin, pinching her nipple as he squeezed her chest. Then he pulled back, sitting up above her. His eyes roamed over her figure hungrily, taking the chance to appreciate each curve of her body as he pushed his jeans and boxers off, kicking them to the side. Most of the women he slept with would try to cover themselves up under his gaze –turn red with sheepish grins. But she just rested her hand behind her head, meeting his eyes for a moment before taking in his naked self as well. Just as hungry for him as he was for her –it made his cock twitch.

“Still so bossy, even when I have you naked under me.”

“Someone needs to make sure you follow directions.”

Her laugh was airy and light, and Javier grinned down at her as he took his cock in his hand, stroking himself slowly. The way she practically glowed under him, radiating something he wanted to bask in forever, made him want her even more. His other hand slipped between her legs again, where he ran his fingers over her clit and through her wet folds. Her eyes closed in response, arching into the touch with a hum, and Javier savored how wet she was for him.

Javier adjusted, half kneeling between her legs and pressed wet kisses over her thighs as he spread her open before him. She gasped at the sensation, thighs instinctively closing around his head but Javier tsk’ed, pushing her legs open to continue peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of her thighs until his nose brushed just barely against her clit. Her reaction was to shoot her hands down and tangle her fingers in his hair, pleading with him to hurry up.

He made a satisfied noise, grinning into the skin of her thighs, before finally giving her what she wanted —what they both wanted —and started to lick and kiss at her clit as if it was the last meal he’d ever eat. She gasped, her legs jerking up only for her heels to rest on his back. The sounds she was making —begging, soft and breathless gasps —egged him on, involuntarily causing him to buck his hips into the couch to relieve his own ache.

“Fuck, Javi,” she moaned, arching up as his tongue delved deep into her core.

Her reaction only spurred him on, replacing his tongue inside her with a finger —then two, with ease. His tongue circled her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, setting a steady pace as she clenched around him. She was tight, deliciously so, and the thought of her clenching around his cock was driving him wild.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her skin, pulling away from her clit just enough to admire her. Watching her chest heave from her ragged breathing, pretty face contorted by pleasure as his fingers continued to disappear in and out of her —she was close, he could feel it as she yanked his hair harder. “Come for me, hermosa.”

His mouth captured her clit one more time, his fingers curling just enough to hit the sensitive spot inside her. She cried out, squeezing his fingers with her pussy while trying to close her legs around him. But he didn’t let her, free hand holding her leg down as he nipped and licked at her clit, speeding up the thrusts of his fingers inside her.

She cried out suddenly, body trembling, as her orgasm washed over her. He slowed down, but didn’t remove his fingers from her, working her through her climax. She pushed him away from her clit, overstimulated and breathing heavily. He didn’t stay away long before he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue once more, lapping up the juices that soaked her pussy.

“Javi,” she gasped, hands shaking as she pried him from between her legs.

She pulled him up by his chin, only able because he let her, and kissed him hungrily. This kiss was sloppier, all teeth and tongues, allowing her to taste herself. Javier groaned into her mouth, pulling himself back onto the couch properly, only to yank her by her hips into his lap. Straddling him now, she looked down at him with hazy, lust filled eyes as she grinded against cock.

He hummed, leaning his head back as his hands slid up her waist, gripping the flesh there tight and guiding her movements as he did so. Her hips rolled against him, coating him in the remnants of her climax, and the head of his cock caught against her clit, causing her to hiss in response. Javier grinned, unable to help himself, as his eyes opened to look up at her again. Releasing his grip on her waist, one hand reached up to the back of her head to bring their mouths together again. His other hand groped her chest, pinching and twisting at her nipples as he bit at her bottom lip.

“Javi, please,” she sighed, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe over his lips. She was reaching between their bodies now to grasp his hard cock in her hands. “I need you, Javi, I need –,”

“What do you need, cariño?” He teased, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. “Take what you want, baby. C’mon…”

She nodded frantically, rising up onto her knees above him. Javier’s gaze dropped to her hand around him, where she was guiding his cock into her soaked pussy. As she slowly eased him into her, one of her hands shot up to grip his arm, digging her nails into the skin to distract from the stretch. Javier’s head fell back again as she sunk down on him, his hands dropping to her ass just to hold something. Because if he didn’t –shit, he would lose any semblance of control he had.

Her grip on his arm tightened as their hips met again, sinking him entirely inside her as she tried to adjust to his size. Javier groaned as her walls clenched around him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up –causing her to cry out in surprise and lurch forward, her hands gripping the back of the couch. With her tits in his face, and his hands grasping her ass, Javier was done for –fuck control, he needed to ruin her.

Javier trails his fingers down her arms before wrapping them back around her hips, holding her tight against him as he pistons up into her. She hadn’t been expecting it, a surprised cry leaving her lips as he slapped her ass in the process of fucking her. He pulled her up, and she got the hint as she rose to meet his thrusts, bouncing on his cock to bring herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Been thinking about this since the first time you yelled at me.” He punctuated his last word with a hard thrust up that had the tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it made her drop her face into his neck, crying out his name.

“Fuck, Javi –you feel so good– Please, God– please, please–” Her words died in her throat when he yanked her down particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in slow, hard grind. She let out a choked sob of his name, pussy clenching hard around him and stealing a low moan from the back of his throat.

“Knew you fuckin’ liked me, princesa.”

She moaned again, and Javier jolted up some as he felt her tongue trailing over the vein in his neck and over his jaw. Her mouth was on his again, and he could feel her tightening around him as her wetness started to smear between their bodies. The sound of their skin slapping against skin only urged him forward, each thrust becoming messier and harder. It was almost too much when his one hand dipped between their bodies, fingers fluently toying with her clit.

Between the touch on her clit and the thrusts up into her, Javier could tell she was close and he’d be damned if he came before her. Kissing her harder –all tongue, and teeth, and spit –he sped up his thrusts in time with his fingers on her clit. She bit his lip for a moment before she gasped, closing her eyes tight as her body tensed up under him, only to spasm around him as she came. The only sound she made were airy gasps of his name, begging him to keep going. Javier wasn’t far behind as he thrusted up into her a few more times before his hips stuttered to a stop.

She dropped against him, breathing heavily as she slowly came down from her high. Javier’s hand dropped away from her clit, and while his grip on her hip loosened, he didn’t release her from his hold. Her forehead pressed against his neck, tucked just under his chin as she tried to catch her breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath himself, as he savored the moment of her skin against his, holding her close to his chest.

Eventually, however, she adjusted and pulled away from him –pulling his softened cock from her with a wince. He stayed there, however, looking over at her through half squinted eyes. She didn’t move far –having simply slid onto the couch to lean down and rifle through their clothes on the floor. When she came back up, she leaned back against the armrest of the couch, skin slick with sweat and glowing from their post-sex haze. In her one hand was a cigarette, that she lit with a lazy grin, before holding it out to him.

Javier watched her for a few moments before he took the cigarette and snuffed it out, pulling her back down the couch by her ankles. She yelped in surprise, but it devolved into a laugh as he leaned over her and grabbed her chin, kissing her lazily. Her arms wrapped around his neck, returning the kiss eagerly. When he pulled back, Javier melodramatically collapsed onto her, laying between her legs with his head on her chest. Her hand ran through his sweat-drenched curls.

“This doesn’t mean you get special treatment at work,” she murmured, and Javier could just hear the grin in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes to recover, and I bet I can change your mind,” he challenged, though he closed his eyes as she ran her hand through his hair.

“You can try to change my mind by staying, and taking me out tonight,” she countered, and Javier chuckled into her skin, nodding.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #narcos #narcos fic

145 notes · View notes