#i don't know those words in spanish either

[poign-ant]

If you'd like, I have another suggestion/request - I would love to see your take on pouf's beelzebub form 👀 most people make him pretty simple, so I'm curious to see how he would look with your detailed art style 🙌

(First of all, i hope you're doing well and things get back to normal as soon as possible ❤)

This request really made me put some thought into it. Shaiapouf's Beelzebub form is a simplified version of his main form right? I took that as more bug-like and pixier. I had to decide between giving him more visible butterfly or ant traits, and i choose the butterfly's just for fun.

So, i drew him skinnier and bonier, with an unnatural large torso and limbs, butterfly antennae and what's supposed to be a retractable proboscis (does that makes sense?).

I kept the fly wings just as a reference to his ability's name.

[theghostofashton]

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[stellacendia]

I've been enjoying my Spanish lessons on Duolingo for so many reasons but one of them is definitely that my confidence in speaking it has gone way, way up from where it was back when I was taking classes in high school. And one of the reasons for this, I'm finding, is that in a lot of places Spanish is literally physically easier for me to speak than my native English. Like, the way my mouth needs to move to form the proper sounds is easier than my strongly American-accented English.

I have a really hard time pronouning words that have multiple r's or an r and a w. Rural, for example, is a word I absolutely hate because it's super hard for me to say. There are others I can never quite say right but I can't think of them right now.

But tonight's Spanish lesson? It included the word librería, which I looked at and thought 'oh man I'll never get that one right' because if that was an English word I was saying in my normal accent those two r's so close together would trip me up so badly. (Just for fun I tried saying it in the most American way and I actually couldn't.) But pronouncing it with the right accent and rolled r's? Super easy! Rolls right off the tongue, is even fun to say.

There are several reasons why I chose to learn Spanish but I think my choice to return to it after so many years out of high school is this, that it's so easy for me to speak.

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[lcriedlastnight]

Accidentally saying I love you with Lando

tysm for your request anon, i appreciate it so much! p.s lando deserved that win today. max verstappen i am inside your walls.

tw: fem!reader, short and sweet, swears, lmk if there's anything you want me to add.

w/c: 1k

you and were a newer thing. you weren't new new, but new enough that you have not said those three little words to each other yet. you knew you loved lando since the third date, when even though he didn't like seafood, literally couldn't even stand being near the stuff, he took you to a sushi restaurant because you had never tried sushi and you wanted to give it a go. turns out you didn't like it either.

there had been a few times where you had almost let the words slip out your mouth but you had managed to bite your tongue at the last second. you would tell him when you were ready and when the time felt right.

lando was currently in spain for the spanish grand prix and this one was difficult. it was only the first race out of the three in the triple header and yet here you were, laying in yours and lando's shared bed, on facetime to him, close to tears. just seeing his face made you miss him more.

"come on honey, don't cry. don't do this to me. i don't want to watch you cry." lando frowns from his own hotel bed, the sheets too white compared to his usual ones. the bed too empty without you. you were usually really good with the distance but this was your first triple header with lando. there were double headers but even with those you made it to the last race so it was even less time. this time around you can't even go to one.

you sniffle as you try to stop your tears. you wipe your eyes with the sleeves of lando's jumper. "i know. i'm sorry. it's not your fault. i just miss you a lot tonight, lan." you express.

you can see lando nodding along with your words as you speak, you know it's not easy on him either. you sigh.

"okay. sorry. we can talk about something else now." you try your best to shake off the sadness. you can always cry when lando hangs up the phone.

"don't apologise, my sweet girl. i know it's hard, i'll try speak to you as much as i can. and i know i'll be busy but i'm back in monaco for the next three tuesdays." lando tried to find a positive in all of this. it was difficult.

you nod, with a hum taking his word into account. "not gonna let go of you for the full night on the tuesdays." you insist with such determination it makes lando's heart melt.

"is that a threat or a promise?" he asks, cheekily. that stupid smirk on his face as he tries his best to make you laugh. it works, not because it's funny but because his smirk always made you laugh.

"promise." you say through giggles. lando laughs along with you until he checks the time on the top of his phone. he sighs as it reads two am.

"m' gonna have to go now, honey. it's gettin' a little late." lando frowns like the words actually hurt him physically to say. you frown too but you understand so you don't put up any fight.

"g'night lan. speak to you tomorrow. i'm not working so call whenever you can i'll keep my day free for you." you bid him goodnight and send him a kiss through the phone screen. lando smiles at your cute gesture.

"night, honey. i'll call you whenever i can. i love you." it is quick but you catch it. lando blows you a kiss then ends the call. you didn't get a chance to say anything back. you don't think he even realises he said it. well he will now he's laying thinking about it. you think to yourself as you settle down on lando's side of the bed and fall asleep.

it's not until he returns home that it's spoken about. you are happy he loves you too and you are even happier that you didn't say it first. you were scared that if you said it first and lando didn't feel the same then he would break up with you. you let your mind carry you away sometimes.

you wait on the couch in your living room for lando to come in. you hear his key in the lock and the rolling of the wheels on his suitcase through the doorway. it makes you giddy but instead of leaping off the couch you stay where you are. lando notices you there and makes his way to you. he doesn't give you time to think before he is wrapping you up in a hug.

your head resting in the crook of his neck as he picks you up in the hug. you laugh at his strength. when your giggles die down thats when you hear him. he's mutter a quiet stream of "i love you"'s into your ear. this is when the tears spring to your eyes again. you pull his head out of your neck to really look at him.

"i love you too. you didn't let me say it back last time." you try to slip the joke in but lando doesn't laugh. no, he just springs forward, lips locking with yours in the sweetest kiss you've had yet from the brit. he pulls away put sends a quick few pecks to your lips, because he can never get enough of you.

you both spend the rest of the day repeating those words to each other like you have just found out what they mean. lando literally feels the need to shout them to everyone he see's in the airport as you wave him goodbye the next again.

while lando is on the flight with no internet he spends his free time typing the words 'i love you' out individually, over and over again then sending it to you just before he lands so that when he does actually land and you get the message. you will be reminded that you are all he thinks about even when you aren't with him.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Your siblings are marrying in two weeks and as the best man and maid of honor, Miguel and you are dragged to the dance lessons for moral support despite disliking each other. There, you're forced to pretend to be a couple. Word Count: 3k Warnings: slightly suggestive comments from the dance instructor, so MDI; reader speaks and understands Spanish; unnamed sister for reader; reader and Miguel are grumpy with each other, so don't expect any smooching, but there's tension, hehe A/N: this was supposed to be a simple thought based on a movie scene (vid below the cut) that turned into something longer (a blessing and a curse). Thank you for reading! Masterlist

Source: The Wedding Date (2005)

Your little sister, or not so little since she’s all grown up, found love and is now getting married to Gabriel O’Hara. You’re elated about them marrying, truly. Ever since your sister met Gabriel, you could tell they were made for each other. They’re both so sweet and kind, sometimes they remind you of Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice, too good for their own good.

They’re truly made for each other and you have to admit, Gabriel squeezed his way into your heart fairly quickly with how great he treats your sister, so it didn’t take long before you started to see him as part of the family.

But of course, a rose comes with its thorns. Or, in your case, your sister’s now fiancé, comes with a brother.

Miguel O’Hara.

You cannot stand the man.

And he cannot stand you.

That’s the one thing you have in common, the mutual dislike.

You finally met him and Gabriel’s parents when the relationship between your siblings became serious. You expected to like Gabriel’s family, and you did, everyone except Miguel. The two of you simply didn’t click. It was dislike at first sight.

Of course, you try to be polite to each other for the sake of your siblings, but when they’re not in sight, keeping an eye on either of you, your dislike is shown through scowls and narrowed eyes.

You try to stay clear from each other as much as possible, something that has become harder to do as your siblings’ relationship has turned more and more serious.

And now, the proximity will be unavoidable. Gabriel popped the question a year ago and that’s how you find yourself parked outside a dance studio, two weeks before the big day.

With you being your sister’s maid of honor and Miguel the groom’s best man, that means you’ve both been in each other’s presence more than usual to support the couple as they’ve gone through the wedding planning.

And that includes the freaking dance lessons.

As soon as everyone arrives, all four of you enter the building. Of course, Miguel and you avoid each other as you both quickly scan the place before your gazes find your siblings’ sheepish smiles towards the two of you. The sight immediately makes Miguel and you tense.

Those sheepish smiles are no good, you both know that too well. Those are the smiles of younger siblings about to ask something from you. Something neither of you are probably going to like.

“So… we asked you to come along today for moral support,” you sister starts, fidgeting with her hands.

“Because we really do need it but there’s another reason…” Gabriel adds, trailing off.

“What is it, Gabriel?” Miguel asks, his tone low with a hint of impatience.

“So… the instructor is a well known one in the community. They’re really good at what they do! It’s why we wanted to get lessons from her, but she had a tight schedule and it was looking like we almost didn’t get a spot. She said she’d only do it if we brought along another couple, unmarried if possible, but one that might potentially marry in the future. You know, as a way to get more business in the future…” Gabriel replies, offering a nervous smile.

“So, Gabri and I figured that…” your sister trails off.

Both Gabriel and your sister stare at you and Miguel, with hope in their eyes as their little plan sinks in.

“No way,” you say immediately, declining anything related to Miguel.

“Aw, please. It’s just a dance lesson. Just for today! Two hours at the most,” your sister tries.

“No.”

“You guys just need to act nice with each other, that’s all. Easy,” Gabriel says, shrugging as if he’s never ran into someone he didn’t like, which might actually be true. “I mean - we’re family now. Not officially, yet,” Gabriel adds giving his future wife a smile that shows pure love. “Very soon, just two more weeks and finally.”

Miguel and you watch, your siblings forgetting for about five seconds about death glares they’re receiving as of right now.

Yes, they’re really too good for their own good. Or, maybe they’re just using their younger sibling privilege and the fact that they’re in love to get their older siblings to give in.

At last, Gabriel turns again as if he just now realizes - or feels - the glares.

“We’re basically family now. You’re going to see each other more often, unless you plan on not attending any family gatherings from here on now, or making some rotating schedule on who gets to go when. It’s just a dance practice, please,” Gabriel pleads, trying to reason with you.

“Gabriel, no,” Miguel says annoyed, exasperated that he and your sister would even think about this considering the fact that neither he nor you like each other.

“Please, if you don’t, she might cancel the session, or charge us double, or something.”

“She can’t do that,” you say. “Can she?”

“Please,” Gabriel and your sister say in unison, something they do a lot, which kind of annoys you sometimes, to be honest.

“It’s not like we’re asking you to kiss. Just - act like a couple,” you sister says. “Please, just for today.”

Miguel and you are both about to tell your siblings why this is inadequate, but you only manage to open your mouths before a woman comes in with a too cheerful smile on her face, stopping you from proceeding. Her presence in the room suddenly shuts all debating, leaving no room for Miguel and you to reiterate that neither of you wish to do this.

“Wonderful! Two couples. My name is Lyla,” she says turning to Miguel and you. “I’m your dance instructor. Let’s not waste any time, yes? The wedding is in two weeks! We need to start working immediately. Everybody, on the floor, please. Let’s go, you two as well, don’t be shy now.” Lyla walks over, immediately pushing Miguel and you forward. “You can be shy in each other’s arms, let’s go.”

You briefly wonder how this woman has so much strength to push the two of you into the floor but that’s quickly forgotten as she continues to speak.

“There. Ah - I see our engaged couple is ready to go,” she comments, making Miguel and you turn to find your siblings already in position, ready to dance. “Let me get these two going, they’re sooooo shy,” Lyla comments with a soft smirk, motioning to Miguel and you.

You both scowl when you hear your siblings laugh, something that cuts their laughter short and turn away.

“Sir, you need to place your hand right here. On your woman’s waist, come on, I’m sure you’ve held her before,” Lyla instructs, grabbing his wrist and placing it on your waist, making it so that Miguel’s hand grips you. Unused to his touch, you squirm when you feel Miguel’s warm hand on you. You try backing away but Lyla only pushes you forward, into Miguel’s touch.

“My, you two are really shy,” she says as she takes your hand and places it on Miguel’s shoulder, allowing you to feel his broad muscles beneath his top. “You need to learn to embrace each other. It’s intimacy.” She pushes you both together now, forcing Miguel to take more steps towards you. Again, you question how much strength Lyla has to move you like straw dolls, especially a man like Miguel. Maybe you’re both so dumbfounded by this situation, your bodies are just doing as she says, pushing you into this abnormal situation. The only sense of normalcy comes from the glares Miguel and you are shooting at each other. “Dancing is like - making love, I’m sure you two know what I’m talking about,” Lyla says before her eyebrows shoot up, thinking of something. “Unless you’re waiting for marriage then… that’s a tough one, but I think you might have an idea of what I mean.” At that, Lyla grins at the two of you.

Miguel and you silently groan at the thought of you two making love, meanwhile Gabriel and your sister are laughing in the back. You turn and give them a glare, same from Miguel, shutting them up.

“I can see you’re both tense. There’s so much - so much tension between you,” Lyla says, hand on her chin as if contemplating something deeply. “It’s that kind of tension only found in the bedroom, you know? Hm… Alright, you’’l be the leader. That means you lead the dance, sir,” she says patting Miguel’s arm.

You turn at that because why does he get to lead you?

“Why does he lead?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“Uhh - okay, I see it now,” Lyla says with a smile, as if everything makes sense now. “That’s why there’s so much tension. You’re both - very dominant. I suppose you’re both - you switch, right? You’re switches?”

“What?” Miguel says with knitted eyebrows and a slightly opened mouth due to the shock because there’s no way this lady just asked that, right?

“Excuse me?” you manage to say, equally appalled.

“You take turns,” Lyla explains. “On who is dominant In the bedroom. The question is who will be the dominant one on the dance floor.”

You turn to look at Miguel, brows knitted. Not only are you being forced to pretend to be his partner but now you’re apparently “switches” and fighting for who dominates who. It’s stupid, you know that, but this has turned into a competition of sorts, and there’s no way you’re letting Miguel O’Hara lead you, even if it’s pretend.

“I assure you, it’ll be me. Just like how it is in the bedroom,” you state which earns you a squeeze from Miguel’s hand on your waist.

“We both know that’s not the case, amor [love],” Miguel replies through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lyla pipes in between you, amused. “I love your energy, though. Alright, time to dance!”

You exhale heavily. Just why did your sister have to drag you into this? Oh right, you’re her maid of honor and the man with his hand on your waist right now is the best man.

You’re stuck in this situation now, whether you like it or not. So, Miguel and you stand like two stiff boards against each other, meanwhile your younger siblings are in another dimension of rainbows and love. They already forgot about their older siblings since they got away with their little plan.

You sigh again and turn to face Miguel, standing in front of each other, like two statues. As the minutes have ticked by with Lyla’s talk about intimacy and dominance, your fingers are now interlaced, though neither of you have noticed yet.

“Just dance, guys. I want to see what I’m working with here,” Lyla says, hands on her hips as she watches the scene in front of her, music playing in the background now.

Stiffly, Miguel and you begin to move, taking steps side by side for a good minute or so before you look up at him. Staring at hm, you notice he seems… tense. Despite yourself, you can’t help but poke fun at him.

“¿Qué pasa, Miguel? ¿Tienes dos pies izquierdos? [What's up, Miguel? You have two left feet?]” You ask mockingly, which earns yourself a half scowl because Lyla is watching you.

Miguel grips your fingers and waist as you continue to dance. You still have a soft smirk on your face, satisfied with Miguel’s annoyance when suddenly, you’re tripping over his foot. Your breath hitches as you feel yourself falling but before that happens, you feel Miguel’s wrapped arm around your waist tighten, catching you. To further annoy you, he expertly uses his other hand and maneuvers you so that your back is leaning on his arm now, with you looking up at him as he leans down. For about three or four seconds, his dark eyes bore into yours before he spins you back to face him correctly.

Annoyed, you return the gesture and slam your foot on his, causing him to grimace in pain. Holding your hand, he pushes you back with a scowl before pulling you back harshly.

“Para tu información, princesa, sé bailar [for your information, little princess, I know how to dance],” he murmurs, staring down at you.

“Hm, I wonder where from? You never dance at parties.”

“And you do? All you do is sit at the table like you’re too good to accept any man’s offer for a dance,” Miguel replies as you move across the dance floor.

Somewhere, your siblings are already receiving help from Lyla, who’s instructing them on proper hand placement.

“And you? You stand around with the other men, talking about God knows what.”

“Women, of course,” Miguel sarcastically replies as he spins you around before bringing you back to him. “We talk about the women dancing and the ones who don’t, either because they’re too shy to dance, or just snobs, como tu… comprenderas [like you... understand, comprehend].”

You scoff. “Is that them, or your personal opinion of me?” you ask, pulling back from him, hands still joined.

Miguel snickers and pulls you back, your chest slamming right into his. You scowl in response. “Quiero decirte algo [I want to tell you something].” He spins you around again. “We are going to make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“This,” Miguel says as he pulls you back in. He stares at you while you keep dancing. “I’m not going to miss out on my brother’s life. Gabriel and I are close, always have been. I have no intentions of stepping out and missing out on his life, him building a life with your sister.” He turns you around, pressing your back to his chest, his arms crossed over your body, as if keeping you locked in them to ensure you’ll listen clearly. “I’m going to be there, at every family gathering. If they have children, you better bet I’m going to be there at every birthday party, or soccer game. So, I want you to know that right now. We’re either going to make this work, or you’ll be missing out, because I’m not stepping out.”

You scoff again, and to his great annoyance and astonishment, free yourself from his arms to face him once more. You place a hand on his chest, leading him back.

“I have no intentions of missing out, O’Hara. Don’t even think about it. Being part of my sister’s life heavily outweighs the annoyance of seeing your unpleasant face.”

Miguel scoffs and wraps his large hand around your wrist before he pulls you forward, your faces mere inches from each other.

“Unpleasant face? You must be blind, princesita [little princess]. Maybe I ought to take you somewhere to get those pretty eyes checked if that’s how you see my face,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

You snort and pull back. “You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, O’Hara, but I digress. I’m going to be part of my sister’s life, too. So, get used to it.”

Miguel smirks, pulling you right back against his chest. “For better or worse, we'll tolerate each other. For them,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

“For them,” you agree, meeting his gaze.

For the first time, you really look into his eyes. You’ve never been quite this close to the man, not enough to appreciate their color - a deep brown with a slight maroon undertone. You see the gentle wrinkles under his eyes and forehead, probably from his job as the CEO from some company you've never bothered to learn the name of. A quick peek at his slightly parted mouth allows you to really notice the plump lips. You’ve never noticed it before, but one side of his upper lip is higher than the other, adding to the full lips. You even manage to notice a crooked tooth at the front of his teeth, something that makes you pause internally for some reason.

In a society worried all about looks, Miguel hasn't had that fixed. You glance back into Miguel's eyes but his are somewhere else, somewhere around your mouth. You don’t have enough time to question why his eyes are there though.

His eyes meet yours again, his throat showing a visible gulp as the image of your lips flashes in his head. Staring at your eyes, he once again takes notice of your eye color and the way your eyelashes frame your eyes, something he’s noticed before.

“That!”

Miguel and you instantly pull away, releasing each other. Lyla quickly approaches you, smiling.

“That's the look I was hoping for,” she says. “A look of pure passion, tension, sexiness… love” she says, giddily. “That’s the way to dance! Oh, I have no doubt you two will know exactly how to dance when your wedding date comes. I have seen enough. Take five while I revisit my initial plan, our engaged couple needs a little more help than you two,” Lyla says giving you both a wink. “There’s a lot of love there but they can’t dance to save their lives, unlike you two. If you want to take a seat and just talk, you lovebirds.” Lyla nods and heads off to your siblings, immediately laying out what needs work.

Miguel and you stand side by side, watching in silence for a few seconds before Miguel breaks the silence.

“I need to make - a work call. I’ll be outside while they get finished,” he says, pulling out his cell phone.

“Sure, you go and do that,” you reply, staring at the other three people, not sparing Miguel a glance.

He faces you, watching you for a few seconds as if expecting you to say anything else, or maybe waiting for you to face him, but you never do.

“Great,” he mutters before he walks away. A few seconds later you hear the studio’s door close.

You sigh heavily. You didn’t even know you were holding your breath. He’s so annoying, so - You do a little head shake, clearing your mind. You’ve both agreed to tolerate each other for the sake of your siblings - to be part of their lives.

“For better or worse,” you murmur to yourself.

A/N: Leaving it open-ended because this was only supposed to be a blurb and then I kept going! Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this!! <33

Alondra❤️

[alchemistc]

Oh, those prompts are so good! If you’re inspired, either 21. listening to someone’s heartbeat or 23. wearing someone’s clothes for Buck/Tommy? Thank you!

He's so fucking tired, is the thing. He's tired, and he's cranky, and this shift had taken ages to end, so when he sees the slash of bright bright blue bleeding out of his duffle and knows immediately what it is, something soft and achy blooms in his chest, and he ignores the subtle eyebrow from Lucy when he pulls it out.

The problem is she's seen Evan in this sweatshirt, less than a week ago when he'd dragged everyone out to trivia, when they'd all been well rested and happy to pepper Evan with stories about Tommy and the more sedate hijinks that Harbor station gets up to. Tommy ignores her look and shrugs it over his shoulders, dragging his head through the neck hole and not minding too much when the hood goes crooked, half stuck in his hair as he gets a wash of pleasant smells - Evan's aftershave, the detergent he uses, a hint of musk, Christ, he'd tucked it in to Tommy's bag unwashed like he knew exactly how much Tommy would want that.

Tommy does his level best not to look like he's huffing glue as he adjusts the hood around the back of his neck.

Donato bites her lip. Sighs, heavily. "Did you steal that, or are you guys in the part of the courting ritual where you do this exhausting shit on purpose just to point out how single the rest of us are?"

Tommy sends a half-hearted glare her way, gets another whiff of aftershave and tries his absolute hardest not to sigh like a lovelorn idiot. He's maybe half successful.

"You are choosing to be single. You have a great guy who'd absolutely love to lock you down, Donato." Tommy stuffs his hands into the front pocket and cocks a hip, and Donato frowns.

"He likes me too much. Don't trust it."

His huff of laughter cuts through the quiet of the locker room. "Hate to break it to you, Luce, but you kinda gotta open yourself up to the possibility of someone enjoying your company, if you want a glimpse at annoying, exhausting, stupid relationship shit."

"I'm trying to mock you, not get relationship advice from your domestically blissed ass."

It's not the first time someone has pointed out Tommy's supposed blissful status, but his body and his mind are so fucking tired and there are apparently, if Evan's last text is to be believed, a couple good cuts of steak seasoned and waiting for Tommy to fire up the grill at home. Which means there is also a man waiting for him there, too, a man with seemingly limitless energy and pockets of technically useless information, a man with silver-cast blue eyes and a birthmark over his brow that Tommy wants to bite every time he catches a glimpse of it out of the corner or his eye, a man he'd given his spare key months too soon just because he liked the idea of coming home to him, liked the idea of him creeping in while Tommy was passed out across his bed or shifting tools around in his garage or -

"Ugh. Gross. I'm leaving, now, tell Buck I said hi."

Tommy isn't actually sure he's going to do that, because he's just realized something that takes precedent, and no offense to Lucy, but she's already wormed her way into one of Evan's defining relationship moments and he's not giving her this one.

He waves her off and shoots Evan a text to let him know he's on his way.

Going home right away doesn't feel right, actually, now that he's thinking about it. He should get flowers, or - maybe learn a foreign language. How much Spanish have Christopher and Eddie taught Evan? Does Jee have some event he could crash?

(Tommy would like to point out that while he hasn't quite said it in words, he's not exactly upset about the way he and Evan are maybe a little batshit insane about each other. If Evan doesn't have any complaints, he's not going to put a damper on it, either.)

The drive home gives him enough time to talk himself down from hiring a skywriter, his cab awash in the scent of the armor-all Evan had spilled in it last week when he got distracted from 'helping' Tommy clean, the hints of scent from the hoodie that's maybe a little tight around the shoulders but still a perfect fit. For him. For Tommy.

Fuck. He should at least get the flowers.

Tommy makes himself keep driving. He's delirious with exhaustion, actually, that's why he keeps overthinking this, there's a steak dinner and a beautiful man waiting for him at home and Evan had probably gotten flowers at the market anyway. Because he does that, constantly, to the point that Tommy had run out of vases to keep them all in.

Tommy sits in the cab once he pulls in and tries hard not to romanticize the idea of Evan's Jeep looking right at home in the spot next to his.

Evan greets him at the door with a wide grin, a spoon in one hand, the other held under it to keep from spilling. "Taste," he says as a greeting, and Tommy opens his mouth more for the pleasure of seeing Evan's eyes light than any expectation for what's being put there.

Cucumber, vinegar, dill - he moans around the mouthful and barely chews before he swallows, suddenly intent to get his mouth on Evan's mouth. His duffle lands in the entryway with a thunk and he gets two hands into the hem of Evan's shirt, intent on tugging him in. "Hi," he says, and swallows whatever greeting Evan tries to return.

When they come up for air Tommy's pulse is racing, Evan is breathing heavily, and he's pretty sure there is a spoon tucked into his back pocket, left there when Evan slung his arm back to get a handful of Tommy's ass.

"Hi," he says, finally, eyes lingering on the neckline of the jacket he'd snuck into Tommy's bag.

The significance of the moment finally catches up to Tommy - the memory something Tommy sometimes falls back on when he gets too in his head about where this is going - stumbling through the emergency room doors with the leers of exhausted firefighters echoing in his ears, Evan a vision in blue (this blue) barely letting him get an apology out before trying to eat his face off in front of three amused nurses.

"Hey," Tommy says, feeling the day just slough off of him. His left hand has tucked itself neatly between Evan's impressive pectorals, and he contemplates, for a moment, just saying fuck it to the steaks and shoving him back until he can press Evan to his sheets, blanket himself atop him, press his cheek there instead of his hand and listen to the steady beat.

Evan blinks back at him, his eyes doing something unbearably sweet, and Tommy has to tell him, he really, absolutely does, only -

"I'm in love with you," Evan says, laughing a little breathlessly once the words are out, hands pressing in at Tommy's waist, a sort of wondrous expression leaking in around his smile lines.

Tommy should maybe feel like the wind has been ripped from his sails, but the fever-pitch beat of his heart won't let him.

"Y-you don't have to, like, say it back. I just. God I like you so much but I'm also - I love you," he repeats, or amends, or - there's something settled, in his expression, like just saying it was enough, like he doesn't expect Tommy to feel the same.

Tommy waits a beat. Slides the hand on his chest up over the rasp of his end-of-day stubble, thumbing the crook of his chin, fingers dancing over his cheekbone. "Evan," he says, sounding a little breathless, which should be embarrassing but Tommy doesn't care, and Evan's gaze catches and holds as he waits for whatever Tommy has to say next

[dedalvs]

How does gender(animate and inanimate) evolve typically, And I saw your video on vowel quality changes but I didn't quite see how certain diphthongs could change overtime, specifically:ai,ei,oi,əi,au,eu, and əu. Thank you so much if you can help me with these!

Usually animate vs. inanimate isn't marked in the way, say, masculine and feminine is (most of the time) in Spanish. Rather, animate and inanimate nouns are treated differently, and those differences end up getting codified.

As a sidetrack, consider mass and count nouns in English. These are definite noun classes of English that you have to understand to use the language well, but they're not marked, and generally not taught. The differences, though, are pronounced:

I'll have a hot dog. 🙂

I'll have hot dog. 😬

I'll have a rice. 😬

I'll have rice. 🙂

You can certainly invent contexts where the 😬 ones work, but they usually involve either (a) jokes, or (b) turning the noun into an opposite type via zero derivation. For example, imagine you're being served at a counter of improbable ice cream flavors, and after surveying them all (typewriter, Nintendo Wii Nunchuck buttons, forgetfulness, fig) you decide you want hot dog flavored ice cream, and so you ask for hot dog [flavored ice cream]. Now imagine a series of keychains with pictures of foods on them, and after looking at them all, you decide you want a rice [keychain]. In other words, the way to make the 😬 ones work is to take a naturally count noun and treat it like a mass noun and vice-versa.

The same logic that applies here applies to the development of animacy, but usually with different parameters. For example, inanimate nouns are more likely to be objects and less likely to be subjects. One very common phenomenon you'll see in language is the following (btw, @staff, if we could add tables to Tumblr, I would be so, so, so very happy):

Animate Subject: Noun

Animate Object: Modified Noun

Inanimate Subject: Noun

Inanimate Object Noun

The reason is the animate noun occurring as an object is a bit of a surprise, but is also common enough that it needs to be demarcated or set apart in some way. An inanimate noun is much less likely to be a subject so language users don't care enough to make an event of it.

But look at that! Suddenly there's an animacy distinction in the language. It's pretty minor, but it can keep going. For example, as in Dothraki, sometimes only animate nouns are allowed an explicit plural. Inanimate nouns aren't conisdered important enough to distinguish. That is, it doesn't matter how much rice, how many rocks, how many shirts there are (if it is, there's numbers), but it is important to know how many sisters, how many cats, how many grandparents, etc. there are without having to ask.

Now imagine that being applied to the above system with subjects and objects treated differently depending on animacy. Suddenly animate and inanimate nouns look very different.

And you can keep going in this fashion. Eventually you'll have some full on noun classes that need to be taught explicitly.

[waitingonher]

hiii!! I saw your Percy x Hecate reader and was wondering if you could do a percy x Aphrodite reader?? 🫶🏽🫶🏽

percy jackson dating a child of aphrodite

pairing: percy jackson x reader

content warning: coupley things

word count: 916

author's note: hi!! sorry this took so long (finals r around the corner) enjoy tho! i also put my own gas station order in this LOL

you and percy have got to be the most attractive couple on the planet. honestly, it’s an unspoken camp rite of passage to have a crush on at least one of you two. everyone literally has their own story about how they have/had a crush on either you or percy (or both) it’s crazy. 

percy is such a green flag!! 

HE FOLLOWS THE SIDEWALK RULE. no matter where you are, you WILL be walking on the inside. 

you could be on a super dangerous quest being chased by monsters and percy would still make sure he’s running on the outside. like i’m pretty sure being ran over is the least of your worries… but it’s still cute.

percy is actually so obsessed with the fact that you can speak french/other romance languages. he’d make up any excuse just to hear you speak them.

all of a sudden he’s paying attention in his spanish class and he needs your help pronouncing certain words!! 

or one day he’d randomly come up to you and would start speaking to you in french??? turns out he’s been secretly learning it without you knowing?? percy’s 387 day duolingo streak is all because he wanted to hear you speak your language more. he’s definitely dedicated!

sometimes when you’re talking, percy would suddenly be like “wow, she’s so pretty???” and he’d (accidentally) zone out, just completely admiring you. he knows that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, but sometimes he just has to take a moment to take it all in. 

shopping dates with percy!! 

you’d ask him which top looks the best on you and then he’d tell you all of them?? he really thinks you can afford all 10 shirts you showed him.

“perce, between those three pants, which one looked better on me?” you ask, holding one of the pairs against your body.  your boyfriend looks deep in thought before coming to a decision, “all of them,” he declares. “babe,” you groan, “you can’t choose them all, choose one.”  percy looks genuinely worried when he realizes he has to actually decide on one, because he thinks that you looked absolutely gorgeous in all of them. so he comes up with the only other idea that makes sense, “well i don’t mind buying them all for you. besides, you looked super great in them.”  you immediately shake your head, “percy, i’m not about to let you drop $150 on three pairs of pants. that’s actually insane.”  “but-”  “no percy.” 

HE KNOWS WHAT COLOR JEWELRY YOU WEAR. percy absolutely refuses to be one of those lousy boyfriends who don't even know what kind of jewelry their girlfriend wears. 

he’s been patiently waiting for the day when someone asks which color you prefer.  

this guy has your gas station order down to a tee! 

percy walks up to the passenger door with a plastic white bag in hand. he opens the door and begins to take out its contents, “thanks perce! you got my-”  “i got your arizona, the green tea flavor, and your hot fries. and yes, i made sure to shake all the bags to make sure i got the one that was optimally filled,” he responds, a smug expression spreading across his face.  with an impressed look, you nod your head in approval, “wow babe, you’ve really got my order down.”   percy nods his head pridefully, “i know.” 

dates where you two have to dress up are one of his favorites!! 

him seeing you all dolled up…whewww…someone call 911 for him. 

despite how much percy hates dressing up, he’d do it if it means he gets to see you all dressed up. 

percy makes you flower bouquets!! 

they’re always so unique and special every time?? you didn’t even know that camp had such a wide variety of flowers until he started making you bouquets. 

and he always makes sure to keep a flower in his cabin so he knows when it’s time to make you a new one jdfsklds

one of percy’s favorite things to do with you are little skincare nights! 

you’d come over to his cabin and you guys would light some candles and make tea. overall it’s a very calming ambience! 

even though it’s terrible for his skin, percy has an affinity for peel-off face masks. every single time, without fail, he’ll make some sort of joke about how he’s shedding. LMAO 

you look over in the bathroom mirror to see your boyfriend applying the very thing you hate, a peel-off face mask, “love, why can’t you be normal and use a sheet mask for once? or even a clay one like mine?” you point to your face.  percy takes a quick glance at you in the mirror and shrugs, continuing to apply the mask onto his skin, “those ones are lame, and it’s not fun if i can’t peel it off,” he responds, very concentrated on spreading the mask around. you cringe when he gets a glob of the mask onto his fluffy headband.  “well the formulas aren’t really good and it’s super irritating for your skin, babe,” you tell him, hoping that the thought of a damaged skin barrier scares him out of using peel-off masks.  “y/n, you can have the good skin. i’m fine with a damaged skin barrier or whatever,” percy replies, trying to remove the mask from his headband.  you roll your eyes, “whatever, lizard face.” 

you two are actually a match made in heaven <333 

[headcanonenthusiast]

Alejandro Vargas NSFW headcanons

This was made with gender-neutral readers in mind.

Ladies, gentleman and everyone in-between, it's him. It's forehead man.

Alejandro is so FINE tho 😍 I'm so excited to be doing headcanons for this man. I'd learn Spanish just for him tbh.

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His hands are absolutely glued to your hips the whole time.

-He gets the widest, most shit-eating grin whenever he manages to hit your g-spot.

-"Listen to those moans. Fuck, is that it? Is that the spot right there, amor?"

-Very confident in the fact that he can make you scream. In fact, he wants you to be loud.

-"Thats it, scream for me. Grita mi nombre. God, the neighbors must be so jealous of me because they aren't the ones making you scream."

-Edges you a lot tbh. Getting to cum immediately w/ him is kinda rare.

-If you make him jealous by talking to someone else, or if you guys just haven't been able to spend time together, he's more likely to edge you for longer.

-"Don't start whining, hermosa/o. You asked for this. Why were you talking to them anyways, hm? Why waste your time on someone like that when you have me?"

-Even if you were just talking to a friend innocently or something, chances of Alejandro's jealousy rising is high.

-He trusts you not to cheat on him, he knows you love him, but that doesn't stop him from being a tiny bit jealous anyway. And that jealously and possessiveness totally seeps into your sex life.

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard and yall already know it's thick af ( lord.have.mercy🙏🙏🙏🙏)

-The sex is either passionate and rougher or passionate and gentler depending on the mood. But, it's always super passionate. His attention is focused entirely on you, with much deeper strokes if it's gentler.

-Marks you up a lot and doesn't really care who sees them. He wants people to know that you're his.

-"There we go. Look at how pretty your neck is, covered with my hickeys."

-And if you try to wear something that covers the marks, he'll carefully pull it right off of you.

-"No, no. Don't hide the marks, cariño. Why would you be ashamed of showing off how good I make you feel?"

-Will not hesitant to spank you if he doesn't like how you're acting. Slaps your ass and even your pussy/cock with every word he says.

-"Don't use that fucking tone with me. Who do you think you are?"

-Makes you count every slap. If you lose count, he'll start right over and much more harshly. (My dyscalculic ass could never 💀)

-I just know that his ideal introduction to sex is very romantic. Like, candlelight dinner followed by slow dancing that escalates into him carrying you to bed kinda romantic.

-At the end of the day, Alejandro just wants to be close to you. He dislikes quickies for the fact that he wants to spend time and take his time with you. To Alejandro, there's no greater pleasure than the ability to make his partner feel good.

-Will totally worship your body if you're insecure about it. If you ever come to him with your insecurities, his mindset changes from fucking you until the bed breaks to making the sweetest, most tender love imaginable.

-"Aw, look at this body. This gorgeous fucking body. You're crazy for being insecure about all of this."

-"Do you have any idea how many times this body's made me cum? Dios, the thought of this body, the thought of your pussy/dick is enough to make me cum."

-Will also gently massage your thighs as they hug his hips while making love, no matter how big or small they are.

-"Dios mío, these thighs...tan jodidamente increíble."

-Demands that you tell him how amazing you are.

-"Say it, baby. Tell me how beautiful/handsome you are."

-And if you refuse? He'll just keep asking you to, threatening to pull out and not let you finish if you don't.

-"That's not what I asked, mi vida. Say it for me, say how amazing and sexy you are. No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces."

-But the best thing about sex w/ Alejandro if you're feeling insecure and do everything he says? He always let's you cum. Never edges you like he normally would. It's probably because he's not nearly as focused on himself and his own pleasure as he normally would be.

-Enjoys gently cumming inside of you during more gentle sex. Prefers cumming on your pussy/ass/dick or even your chest/belly if it's rougher, though.

-Often shuts his eyes as he finishes, fingers digging into your skin before his grip loosens and his eyes are glued to your face once more. He chuckles while showering your face in kisses, voice hushed and satisfied.

-"Dios mío, that was amazing. Can't believe I'm with someone as wonderful as you, mi amor."

-Almost always hopes you'll agree to taking a bath with him. Like I said, he's all about romantic intercourse, and there's nothing more romantic to Alejandro than getting to wash your body of the mess you've both created.

-And then you're gonna both fall asleep, Alejandro's strong arms wrapped tightly around you while he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, whispering praises and adoring words.

-Oh, and he usually tries to stay up later than you. Why? Because the look on your face after sex, all satisfied and at total peace, makes him feel accomplished and happy for making you feel good.

Translations: (apologies if anything is inaccurate, online translators can only get you so far :()

Cariño=sweetheart/honey

Amor=love

Hermosa/o=beautiful

Mi vida=my life

Dios/Dios mío=God/my God

Grito mi nombre=Yell out my name

Tan jodidamente increíble=So fucking incredible

No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces=I won't let you cum if you don't

Alejandro has my ❤. He's just so.. 😍

Really enjoyed doing headcanons for him! You can probably tell that I had way more ideas for Alejandro than I did for Gaz (I'm so sorry Gaz enjoyers 😭). I've also intended to do Alejandro for a while, before even Ghost or König. I just did those two first since ik how popular they are.

I'll be doing more headcanons soon, probably more SFW ones, too, because I only have like 2 SFW headcanons on my page 😔.

Feel free to give me suggestions for who to do next!

[glaciertea]

It's Our Paradise, and It's Our War Zone

Another Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

I wrote this as a very small collection of one-shots from my longfic (you don't need to read that to read this). I made some minor changes, but it's nothing too crazy. Also, if the Spanish is off, let me know~

Word count: 3.5K

Content Warning: 18+, Pwp, PinV, bondage, overstimulation, toy usage, he uses his webs (not just for tying things up), blindfold, cunnilingus, bad jokes :]

Summary: Miguel helps you out with a daydream you've been having for awhile.

For the past few days, you've been self-motivating yourself to finally tell Miguel about a fantasy that's been lingering on your mind from the moment you realized you held that attraction to him. Specifically, sexual attraction.

You wanted to dangle from his webs, completely exposed and restrained, bounded by trust and that gripping lust.

You would stand in front of the mirror, reciting how you would blurt it out or ease it into a conversation; however, when the time seemed permitted, you would chicken out the last second, pretending as if it was some other ‘important’ thing, such as ‘pancakes, waffles, or French toast?’ Or, ‘did you watch that one show as a kid?’

So far, the mission has been an obvious failure. But that wasn't going to deter you from it. Far from it. Tonight was the night you would finally megaphone your burning desires and sensations to him once and for all.

When he arrived (through the window, because he doesn't believe in the key or door), things went as normal. You made some homemade burgers and pre-cooked fries, watched random episodes from some show, and played a few rounds of your karting game. 

There was some chit-chatting in between, but the main topic refused to show itself on stage. Your palms were sweaty as you wiped them on your shorts for the umpteenth time in a row. You battled with how exactly you were going to say this; all that practicing you did began to clash, and it wasn't helping you one bit. You were scattered.

“Alright. Tell me what's on your mind before you blow a nerve over there, amor.”

You yelped at the sudden confrontation before nervously laughing louder than you expected. "Oh, it's nothing, Miggy. I'm just thinking about some funny jokes in my head.”

Miguel raised a brow. You weren't very vague; there was more to it, and he knew it, but he wanted to see if you could get it out with just a bit of a push from him.

“Okay then. Tell me a joke.”

“Wh-what?” You blinked, a bit stupefied.

“Tell me a joke. I want a good one. So go ahead and make me laugh.” His body was facing you fully. 

You were thrown into an unwarranted spotlight. All eyes were on you. You hated that you got yourself into this.

“A… a joke.” You gulped loudly.

“Si. Give me a joke.” Miguel's authoritative tone seeped out, and it wasn't helping you at all. 

A joke? That's a difficult thing to serve, especially when one is put on the spot, unless you're a professional. Witty one-liners and puns are easier, but having to come up with the starter, the execution, and the punchline is a whole process in itself.

You thought about stalling and beating around the bush.

“No stalling either.” 

At this point, you believed he was a mind-reader. There was no other explanation for it.

He was intently staring into your soul with those mesmerizing eyes, as you did your best to look at everything else besides him. 

“Right. So, here's my joke. It's coming up right now, right this seco-”

“You're stalling. Joke. Now.” 

You felt yourself straining in more ways than one.

“Okay, uh, let's see… How do you catch a squirrel? Climb a tree and act like a nut.” You drummed the air, tittering, before tightening your lips together.

The air was cumbersome, and Miguel's dead gaze wasn't helping.

“That was bad. Muy mal.”

“Hey! I don't think it was that bad. You asked for a joke, and I gave one.”

“Yes, but a joke that makes me laugh.” He leaned in, entrapping your body. “That didn't even get a chuckle, corazón.”

You squirmed on the sofa, his husky breath traveling through your veins. How you disliked, but loved the easy affects he had on you.

“So tell me, what's really running through there?” He skimmed his knuckle from your forehead to your chin, your breathing picking up.

He wanted you to speak your mind. He often reminds you not to be scared to do it, especially around him. He loves listening to your thoughts and observations. And one thing he also adores hearing is your wants and needs. He's always ready to care for and respect them.

“I-I…”

“Go on. What's going on in that brain? I know for a fact that it isn't just jokes.”

He had you cornered. Figuratively and literally. That stare wasn't going anywhere, and neither were you. He could do this all night if he really strived for it. He is a strong-willed man after all.

“Fine! Back when we were first getting to know each other and all, we knew each other, but we didn't have that ground of–”

“You're stalling!” He snarled out, pressing his body into yours. “To the point. Now!”

Your eyes widened at that domineering voice. You didn't even realize he could get that booming and demanding. He started to tense up when he recognized that change.

“I'm so sorry, mi corazón. I didn't mean to sound like that. I usually don't use that voice unless others refuse to listen. Wa-wait! I'm not saying you're not listening; I mean–”

“I had this fantasy of being fully tied up in your webs. A sense of trust and longing to be there.” You bumped your forehead into his, that burning passion glazing over.

Miguel's breathing became rapid. Was this what you really wanted? Or was it something that you would believe he would want? He couldn't lie that he also didn't have those lingering around his brain, but would you truly be okay with it?

“I- are you sure you want something like that?”

“Yes, this is what I want to try. This is something I want.” You were determined to do this, praying that he would accept your fiery cravings.

“Corazón, will you allow me to–”

“Yes, I will allow you to take control. To tie me in your webs.” You placed your wrists together, expressing that vulnerability. “Please, Miguel.”

Miguel nodded, knowing that no more words needed to be said. Everything was now on the table. He lowered his head until his lips were on yours. Folding your legs around his waist and your arms over his neck, Miguel picked you up, placing your body on a nearby wall.

“Mi hermosa amor, te adoraré ahora y siempre. Siempre me preguntaré cómo te conseguí.” Miguel whispered against your neck, causing you to moan and writhe. 

He nibbled the crook of your neck and collarbone, his tongue gliding over the delicate skin. His hands dragged down your shirt, lifting it over your head. 

He brushed his claws over your hardened nipples, tweaking them before bending forward and nibbling the nubs hungrily. You blissfully sighed out, when a sudden memory popped up in Miguel's head.

“That vibrator… It's in your left bottom drawer by your bed, right?”

You froze. “You… I… How did you know about that?!” You honestly assumed you swept that in the corner, hidden away from the naked eye.

“I found it when you told me to bring that bottle of lube.” He flicked his tongue over your cleavage, leaving hickies on your chest and the valley.

“How—but you had to really peek to have—”

“You were the one who told me to put it there, baby.” His claws made their way to your shorts and tugged them down, caressing your thighs. “It rolled out when I pulled the drawer out.”

You were flustered, stuttering, when Miguel planted a kiss to quiet you down. “Do you want me to get it? I will only do it if you want me to.”

It took you exactly one second before wholeheartedly agreeing. You wanted to know how far this fantasy of yours would go, and you were excited that there was an unexpected but welcome addition.

You slid out one of your dining room chairs and sat down. Miguel held that confidence in his walk, and you knew it. Strolling back out with your purple and white magic wand and the bottle, you gave a thumbs-up.

Retaking your earlier positions, he sat the items in the chair, pressing your body back into the wall, two fingers making their way in your panties, rubbing the folds, proud of how wet you were.

“Mm, I–ah–want to be gagged and blindfolded.”

“You really want to be tethered up, don't you?” His thumb rolled over your clit as he stared for any signs of displeasure.

“I have an eye mask in the same drawer, and the fantasy includes your webs in between my teeth.” 

Miguel made no hesitation; he was back with it in a blink of an eye. You could tell how roused he was by the throbbing bulge in his pajama pants, as you swore you could see some damp stains. 

“If I do this, you'll need to have a way to alert me if you start feeling uncomfortable. Safewords won't exactly work.”

You closed one eye, thinking for a few seconds, when you snapped your fingers. Propping your hands over your head, you gave a thumbs-up. 

“Thumbs-up means you can go; bunny ears mean slow down; and when I snap, stop.” You demonstrated each motion as Miguel nodded.

“Vale, vale, bien.” He brushed the side of your face and smiled. “You ready?”

You nodded, arms still above your head. He picked you up with ease as you examined him shooting his webs at the wall and the ceiling. Carefully sticking you to the netting, he bound you in a dragonfly shibari tie, thoroughly taking his time. 

“How many times have you done this?” You eyeballed his work as much as possible.

“A few.” He pressed a kiss on your stomach. “But that's all I'm going to say.”

You hummed out at the intriguing fact that'll now be stuck in your brain.

Putting the eye mask on, he waved his claw in front of you, happy that you didn't react to it.

“Okay. Ready to be muted?”

“I'm ready to be partially subdued.” You chuckled as he joined in.

“Okay, just let me know if you feel uncomfortable.” He shot out a long string, double roping it around your mouth and part of your head. “Bite down.”

You obeyed as you tried to get used to the thick organic webbing. It was like a rope, but not. A feeling that if someone asked you to describe, you wouldn't know where to begin.

He strummed over your curves, crooning at the beauty that was secured before him. His full lips and tongue were dragging and wetting your body as you felt two unsheathed fingers hook the bands of your underwear, drawing them down until they were on the floor.

His eyes were locked on your arousal. You exhaled out contentedly, knowing that you were in safe hands. Even if you weren't in control, you still felt like the leader of this.

He dropped to his knees, eye level with your clenching heat. You awaited him, electricity coursing through your veins, desperate to know when he would have his way with you. You could only groan, not being able to move any part of your body as you spread open like a buffet exclusively for him.

“Always a delightful sight.” He nipped your inner thighs, adding suction to leave markings. 

“Mine.” He trailed his tongue over your vulva, making sure to get every part.

A while escaped, your chest heaving from the sensual lick. You yearned for more as you tried, but no matter what you enunciated, only jumbled-up groans from your throat came out.

He pretended not to hear your neediness, teasing your folds with a flick here and there. He would quickly bury his head into your entrance, pumping his tongue for a couple of seconds before pulling out. He did it several times, and you weren't happy with the taunts.

“Mmm! Mm mmmph!” 

“Mmm, no puedo escucharte. All I hear is murmurs, amor.” 

You could envision his condescending smirk just from his voice. You growled, but stopped when you felt the familiar head on your clit.

On a low setting, Miguel settled the toy, knotting the web around your waist and hips so it could stay attached right to the fleshy bud.

“Now, you will cum when I tell you. Understand?” He slid two fingers into your core, scissoring to help with your urges. 

You hastily gave the thumbs-up, and your moans in his ears made him grunt. “Muy bueno, muy, muy bueno.”

He yanked his two fingers out, causing you to panic and request that he keep going as best as you could, when he suddenly upped the power.

“Mmmm—Mmph. Mmn!” 

He removed his clothes and sauntered over to the seat you left out. Cozily perching himself down, he squeezed some of the clear substance on his hands, pleasuring his throbbing cock.

You despised that you couldn't see a thing, but you loved the feeling that he was still providing, even if you didn't know what it could be. You listened to his praises, your ears picking up squishing noises. You couldn't tell if that was from you or if he was doing something to himself.

“Look at my gorgeous moon. She's doing so well, trying not to cum. You're such a good girl for following my rules.” 

He stroked himself faster as he eyed your messy, trembling figure. The vibrator went wild as your legs spasmed, but with the restraints, it barely seemed as though they were moving.

He licked his lips at your dripping pussy—a nice puddle formed on your wooden floorboards. A delicious view for only him to behold.

Your muffled screams and begs were music to his ears. Your face drenched in sweat, tears, and saliva, your mind ragged, knowing that he's observing every reaction and every moment. You knew he was enjoying himself way too much.

“Let's see if we can add a bit more, corazón.”

You shook your head; your faint pleas went unheard. The fact that he already denied you to orgasm, and now he wants more? He's torturing you at this point just because he can. And you adored it.

“Mmph! Mmm!” You wriggled as you sensed him getting closer to you.

“You doing okay?” He stroked your hair, and you gave the thumbs-up to have him keep going.

“Bueno.” 

You heard another buzzing sound. Did he have a second vibrator? Did you? You swore you only had one, so you had zero idea what it could be.

“Mmmm? Mmm?”

Miguel chuckled at your curiosity, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. “Remember, mi amor. No cumming unless I say.”

The sound was getting louder. You really wanted to see what it exactly was, so you snapped your finger, and Miguel immediately tore the silk from your mouth.

“Corazón? You okay?” He examined your face for any indication of uneasiness.

“I'm fine, Miggy. Just a bit interested if you had another vibrator.”

“No. It's my web.” 

You were a bit lost. His web? But the ones around you weren't humming or anything like that, so that probed the question: what type of web was this then? 

“But how is it buzz–” Your mouth was once again covered as you screeched when Miguel took hold of the toy, rubbing and pressing it harder on your clitoris.

“Laser web. Now remember. No. Releasing.” You gasped when something heated was pushed into your opening, convulsing and pulsating lightly.

Your toes curled at the overstimulation. You sobbed, your heart hammering at a treacherous tempo. You wanted to cum so badly; you wanted that sweet release of relief and satisfaction, but he wasn't going to allow it.

“There you go, such a good girl.” He pushed the web in and out in a rhythmic pattern. The drones from the objects, the squelching from your pussy, and those cute noises emitting from you made him twitch madly.

Your juices trickled down his claws, the other side wanting to escape as the nectar from your delectable pussy stickied his hand and web, as he knew you were doing everything in your power to not release.

He dropped the web when a raspy, guttural growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck, fuck—I want you, corazón. I need you. Please.” 

Miguel grasped the webs, his eyes lingering, waiting for that signal. You nodded, as he saw the thumb. He smiled and removed the mesh and blindfold, revealing that warmth and faith in your smile and gaze.

“You are beautiful, you know?”

“You mention it every chance you get.” You giggled out when he pushed his forehead on yours.

“Then I will continue to do it. You are very beautiful.”

He kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth, before shoving himself in one go. You threw your head back at the suddenness. A cry quickly turned into a shriek when you felt the familiar buzz on your clitoris once more.

Miguel began to thrust maniacally, your back rubbing against the wall from every pump he gave.

“You like that? Mmn, mmm, fuck, mi corazón, such a perfect little pussy for papi.” He grunted in your ear, licking the lobe.

“Mi-Miguel! Too… too much!” Your screams sprang out, your walls constricting with every deep impact.

“You can- fuck… You can take it—ah, mierda, so good…”

He released his firm hold on the netting to your hips. Pulling all the way out, he paused for a few seconds before ramming himself back to the hilt. He repeated this, prizing himself on the reactions.

Tears rolling down your chin, your shudders, and whimpers that merge into strangled moans. Your disheveled state as you took Miguel, feeling the tip brush against your cervix, as your belly bulged from every breach.

His hips grinding against yours, your brain foggy with white, and him in the center. The vibrator was whirring with every rock; you were losing your mind.

“Too sensitive- Miguel. Please!”

“I'm not stopping. Going to fuck–ah–going to fuck you until you can't walk.” 

“Miguel!” You wailed out as drool leaked down as he rubbed against your g-spot.

“That's right; let them know who's doing this. You're mine. I'm going to have you and everyone else remember.” He rasped out in that ragged, husky tone, making you quiver all over.

His name was the only thing leaving your lips as your soaking walls clenched. The sensation from his throbbing, heated shaft as he hit every point perfectly. You slowly began to garble out his name, slurring it into one incoherent sentence.

“Mig-Miguuel!”

“There you go, who owns this pussy?”

“You.”

Miguel snarled in your face, yanking your head back. “I don't like repeating myself. Who? Owns? This? Pussy?!”

His hip bones slammed into yours. You were aware you were going to be overtly sore and bruised in the morning, but it was all worth it in the moment.

“Miguel! Miguel owns this pussy!” 

“¡Sí, joder! ¡Buena chica, qué buena chica! ¡Papi es dueño de este coño, papi es dueño de este hermosa coño!” 

You were far gone; the sounds of your wet, erotic bodies covered every square centimeter of your living room and kitchen, and maybe even out of the door.

Your feverish sobs and his primal growls sent you into a frenzy. A strong yearning began to creep itself into your stomach as Miguel's brutal pace refused to let up.

“I feel—ah—Miggy! I'm going to—I'm going to—”

“Cum, cum, my love. Yes, yes, cum on my cock. Do it. Cum!”

His hand reached between you two as he pressed the overwhelming toy more on your sensitive bud, jerking it back and forth like a joycon.

Your mouth opened wide, and your eyes rolled all the way into the back of your head when you snapped.

“Miguel!” 

The bubble burst. You squirted out on his abs, your thighs, the floor, and who knows what else. Your body quaked as if someone were trying to perform an exorcism. But whatever was possessing you, you didn't want it to leave.

He growled out, pushing your legs up to change the angle. He propelled sporadically as he was close to his own climax.

“Sí, sí, sí, joder, joder, joder—corazón!”

He roared out, his talons pricking your hips, as he emptied his entire soul into you. 

His chest heaved, your bodies glistening in sweat, as he pressed his forehead into yours, a shaky breath released.

“Ah… ah- ha…. Fuck. Baby? Corazón? You… you okay?”

“I…”

“Yes? You okay?” He wiped some moisture off your face.

“I- if the dove is the bird of peace, what is the bird of true love? It’s the swallow.” You gave a goofy and sleepy grin.

Miguel froze before he snickered and began to laugh. 

“I did it! I made you laugh.”

“Ay, yes… Yes, you did. What am I going to do with you?”

You both smiled into the kiss, happily swirling your tongues in a messy dance.

“Did I fulfill your fantasy, amor?”

“Mhmm, but let's go another round, just to be sure it was completely satisfactory.”

“Dios mío, me estás matando, luna mía. Pero maldita sea, si no es de la mejor manera posible.”

You didn't understand, but your eyes were right back covered, and that was enough for you to know.

[caineinthecorner]

Language (The Demon Brothers)

★ Based on my language general hcs. Part 2 is here.

Hi. Today we have the demon brothers language hcs, brought to you by a single dumbass bilingual. :D

I include mentions of bilingual/multilingual MC, but I use the term MC and you interchangeably in the bullet points. It's the same thing who cares (you can also add whatever languages you think fit I am just going off vibes tbh)

★ Lucifer.

Since he was the strongest and highest ranked out of the brothers, his innate abilities were muddled the least.

This is to say that he remembers a lot from his innate knowledge as an angel, and can actually fare incredibly well on his own if you leave him in the human realm.

(the language he preferred back in his angel days was Archaic Latin, which is also Simeon's preferred language)

When Diavolo brought up the idea of the human exchange program he was like "(: ok" and binged human language for like two months straight like a total psychopath

He's like one of those fancy 10+ languages fluent polyglots (how)

Despite his fluency, it is rare to ever see him speak them. He has better things to do and prefers demon tongue.

Or if he does, the Loquar Ad Vos that was applied to you once you arrived in Devildom doesn't allow you to hear it.

You try to swear in your native language around him and oh boy it backfires

That is how you learn he's fluent in everything under the sun (exaggeration)

Frustrated, you grumble that you will learn demon tongue just to one up him

He takes it like a challenge. Enjoy reading a million books on the demonic language and having double the homework for your little joke.

(he gives you hard material to learn on purpose to see you fail. Enjoy hell buckoo. Double hell? Hell²)

You kept misspelling good morning in demon tongue as a demonic death threat and that somehow turned into an inside joke between the two of you.

He has to keep himself from chuckling whenever MC screws up words

Your accent is lovely though. Keep it up

★ Mammon.

Spanish and English.

Ok I actually can't justify myself further than "Mams would absolutely fucking go to Vegas" and the fact that USA has a large Latino population but hear me out

You cannot tell me that he would not watch telenovelas. Like. C'mon.

he has the vibes of a Spanish speaker is what I am saying

he was SO frustrated about having to learn human languages you have no idea

In fact he probably still struggles a bit and that makes him really mad

Why is it so complicated all of the sudden?! It wasn't complicated Before!

He unconsciously associates human languages with the trauma of the fall, and the stress and hurt and turbulent emotions it conveys

So learning new languages besides the two he knows is a touchy subject for him

(but like, he will learn MC's native language despite this. Whining to hell about it, but he will. Everything for MC)

You are actually very lucky that you have Loquar Ad Vos with you, bcs he actually switches from demon tongue to either English or Spanish mid sentence sometimes.

Not that you notice with your crusty translator (Loquar also works for human languages it supports), of course.

"Ayo can you [Spanish phrase], oh and give me a [English word], for a [spanglish nonsense]" <- Mammon's dumbass not functioning in trilingual

Also he has an accent but he's trying

The others are used to it so they don't question it anymore, but they deadass could not understand Mammon at some point because trilingual was not computing

It was frustrating to say the least

You two play charades with each other when the other forgets a word in your respective languages

"MC WHAT'S THE NAME OF THE ANIMAL FUCK THAT CHANGES HOME" "... Hermit crab?" "THATS THE BITCH"

★ Leviathan.

Japanese (very decent) and English (bad) are musts.

You cannot tell me for a second this fuck watches anime subbed OR dubbed. He's too weeb for that. He will watch the original dub version for the full emotional impact

He wanted to know what happens in the weeb world of the west (and internet discourse), so he learned English through shitty 2000s anime forums and Duolingo

Probably plays Duolingo competitively and/or cries if he loses his streak

His hearing and speaking English is okay, his writing is literally so so shit

Tried to learn a romantic language to be corny but failed miserably.

(He steered clear of languages his brothers know so he isn't self conscious)

It was probably Portuguese or something since Mammon kept talking about being good at figuring it out as a Spanish speaker (due to it being a romantic language)

The diacritical marks killed him on the spot

Meu português não é bom... (crying)

Victim of the you're* corrections

Runs his several-paragraphs-long rants about weeb stuff through Satan so the grammar is legit

Actually thinking about it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if he knew russian just for funsies. Yeah add Russian to the list

He sends you crusty Russian memes at unholy hours in the morning. Calls that bonding

Would absolutely swear in loud ass Russian while playing Valorant or smt

"ПИЗДЕЦ" "LEVI IT'S 2AM SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Ah + he knows Morse code (obviously). He was really excited when he discovered it and proceeded to obsess over it for like three weeks straight.

Although by the time he learned about it humans had already moved on from its wide-spead use at sea (post-1999), the Devildom Navy adapted Morse code for their own use as per Levi's command.

He teaches MC how to use Morse code (bashfully) and they send lil' messages to each other for fun

★ Satan.

He inherited a good chunk of Lucifer’s angel-knows-all-languages innate talents.

He doesn't have the angel knowledge of every language, of course, but he definitely has a really high count since birth; Unlike his brothers who had to relearn their languages of interest.

However, he can tell™ that the topic of languages is kinda taboo-y, as it signifies the traumatic fall he himself was not there to witness, and kept quiet about it.

The others (mostly) think he just learned languages in his free time.

He is the designated google translate person. When the other brothers need translations, they ask him.

He gets very frustrated when he has to translate something on the spot

Absolutely knows Chinese and Latin just to read fancy old human books and be a menace about it

He has a copy of the Art Of War in Chinese I will fight you on that

Actually he probably owns every important human book in its native language

Culprit of the you're* corrections

If he has to read another thesis-length essay abt weeb shit by leviathan he will actually lose his shit

You know the Voynich manuscript? He's probably trying to decode it for funsies.

If you and him (unfortunately) share a language, he will absolutely correct the living shit out of you when you speak it

Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't "erm ACtuAllY" MC. You can't.

His ass does not understand slang. At all. You tell him See You Later Alligator and he'll be like "tf you smoking ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ?"

★ Asmodeus.

French. And Korean. Maybe very mid English.

Ok so french is the language of lOVe and whatever + Korea is known for their heavy beauty-focused culture

I can see Asmo definitely picking up Korean just for makeup and self care brands purposes.

Like it is easier to browse for products he wants if he can actually browse the original places/websites himself

It's just more convenient and he's actually very good at language learning

+ Korean it is a "cutesy" language so it fits his vibe.

Like he absolutely would go "안녕 teehee (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)" to look disarming is what I am saying

He flirts to hell with Solomon in French. It is a language they both know and isn't supported by Loquar for translation so nobody can snoop their conversations

If you have the misfortune of knowing French I am so sorry for you bcs they are NASTY

Solomon is teaching him English. Asmo fakes being bad at it on purpose

★ Beelzebub.

He knows a decent amount of English.

What does he use it for? Order food. Obviously.

In fact everyone kinda assumes he just knows a few food orders and that's it but no he's actually very decent at English (borderline fluent)

He learned through clunky conversation with small restaurant owners

Beel actually makes a great effort to enunciate every word clearly, so he doesn't like speaking long sentences

"Would you like Salsa with that, sweetheart?" "... Yes," <- Beel has no fucking clue wtf salsa is but it tastes good so who is he to defy food gods (a nice Mexican grandma with a killer Pozole) whom have blessed him

I also think he would probably know some kind of sign language

Fingerspelling maybe, solely because it allows him to talk while having his mouth full or bcs his games are loud and he can't hear words very well

That and, like, the Devildom equivalent of sign language. DSL or something.

Look at him. Absolute sweetheart. He would absolutely want to include deaf or hard of hearing ppl.

★ Belphegor.

Ok so

I am going to be very fr with you

I believe Belphie would be the only monolingual (demon tongue "native") of the brothers

at most he would remember a few phrases of a few languages from back when he was an angel, but not any specifics

Like this dude has ZERO interest in human culture I cannot think he would sit down to (re)learn anything

he would fall asleep trying to learn human verbs actually

He only knows how to tell you to fuck off on 4 languages (/hj)

None which you speak. So that's kinda awkward

He doesn't know how to cast Loquar (nor has any interest in learning how)

Beel casts it for him if he needs it

He can and will deadass just remove the translator spell from you if you try to annoy/interact with him (except if Beel is who casts it on you).

(so Beel now also casts Loquar for you)

Begone >:(

[doodler-jpeg]

Thinking about self aware! MW characters (plus Roach) who absolutely adore your laugh.

CW// gender neutral, unfunny men deserve to be slandered, favoritism is seen, badly translated Scottish and Spanish, this is based off of my interpretation (you can find the main fic link on my account)

Feedback and criticism are highly encouraged! Please tell me if anything is badly translated, out of character, or something else!

Ghost actively makes jokes that are guaranteed to make you at least giggle. Even through this weird mental barrier (for him) and your monitor's screen, it's so invigorating to hear some form of joy out on the field, especially when it's from you. It just makes that fuzzy feeling in his heart multiply.

"Thank you, thank you - I'll be here all night."

Gaz takes absolute advantage of this. He makes a few jokes here and there, but keeps it to interesting stories. In some instances, he just starts laughing out of nowhere and you can't help but join in. It's very clear he gets bitches on the daily.

"Didn't know I was that funny, but I'll take what I can get."

Price uses all of his past experiences with courting to get, at the very least, a giggle or two out of you. He doesn't have millenium of experience (contrary to your belief), but he's certain that his "old-man" charisma and his weird way with words. But he still tells some older jokes, so your assumption that he's older isn't completely wrong (he was totally raised by his grandparents).

"Would you like to hear a story?" *Tells one of the pointless joke stories that lasts for 10 minutes and has the stupidest punchline*

Roach can't really come up with ways to make you laugh. His preference of keeping quiet and faceless doesn't really help, either. Instead, he tries to point out some enemy on the field, signing insults to them that you're sure to understand.

'His head looks like a donkey, and he acts like one, too.'

Soap physically cannot keep you from laughing. He doesn't even have to make a joke, you just start laughing. He believes it's because he's just an immediately funny dude, but you're not going to tell him that he looks stupid with that hairstyle. If he does tell any jokes, they're not even funny.

"Dinnae ken how come ye'r laughing, bit keep daein' it."

Alejandro tries, he really does, and it doesn't work most of the time. It's kind of funny seeing this overly-confident dude absolutely fumble because of his lack of realization that your personality and humor aren't really the same as the people he usually catches. On occasion, though, he does get a rise out of you and can't stop smirking about it for the rest of the day.

Valeria has subtle jokes that rely mainly on her tone, but those aren't her priority. She doesn't mean to be rude (lies usually, but with you?), but she does impressions of your laugh and then comments on it. Usually they're not bad, but it does feel demeaning sometimes.

"Me gusta esa risa. Jejejejeje."

"You know why Mexicans call Americans 'gringos'? ... Would you like to?"

Rodolfo doesn't always try to make you laugh - he still gets a bit disoriented that you're no physically there (which means he can't see your face, but what is he gonna do about it?). His humbleness and large range of jokes really comes through, especially since he'd been the family entertainer at parties. If you can understand simple jokes in Spanish? You're practically set to be unable to keep a straight face, and he loves it. (Even if he doesn't understand it, he'll turn it into a mini lesson so you do)

"¿Qué dijo el gato cuando chocó su carro? 'Miau-to.'"

Nikolai has a handful of Russian jokes at his disposal. Are you completely guaranteed to understand? No, and he doesn't expect you to. If you do understand Russian, boy howdy is he gonna have the time of his life! You won't be able to breathe properly until he's out of sight!

"You see, it's funny because-" *explains joke if you don't understand*

Laswell is a huge fan of subtle jokes. She often makes small, funny comments that get light-hearted chuckles out of her. However, she also has older humor, which means you're less likely to understand unless you, too, are old (which isn't likely, but it's still a possibility). She likes hearing you laugh and really does try to get some sort of connection with you, even if it doesn't work.

"What did the chicken say when it crossed the road? 'Damn it, I missed the bus.'"

Alex is a funny man. He's aware of his effect on people and uses it to his full advantage. As a people-pleaser, he makes it his duty to get you to laugh as much as possible. If he doesn't make you laugh, he'll make himself laugh, and then you laugh. He's totally not putting all his effort into jokes just to get you to laugh or anything. He's just that guy.

"Me? A tryhard? Whaaaat? Psh- as if."

Farah has no business with nonchalant jokes, but she makes them work. While she does like the sound of your voice, she doesn't want to force it. She believes that intentionally funny words can diminish any genuine laughter, so she sticks to half-assing it in hopes you at least giggle. That's not to say she doesn't try to get you to laugh - she just does it far less, since she can't see your face (but she can just imagine the glee on your face if you get the giggles because of her).

"What is your type of humor? Asking for a friend."

Graves is unintentionally funny. When he tries, he fails miserably. He says a southern phrase that might not be super known? You're cracking up. He doesn't get it, but at least you're going 'teehee'.

"What's so funny 'bout me sayin' cattywampus? It fits the situation!"

[ivystoryweaver]

im so interested in what u think the moon boys would be like as dads???

Ohhhhh, this is gonna hurt my heart. In a good way. I have a lot of feelings about Moon Dads and I've not yet written fics about it so yeah...

I'm gonna jump right in with Marc.

I think if Marc had a child, he would be all in: attentive, tender, affectionate.

I don't actually believe Marc would be afraid of parenting. I know that can be a popular hc/fic plot and I totally understand why, and love reading those.

But I think Marc would be one of those people that would try to do the opposite of what was done to him. Example: his parents were married and that went well... (sarcasm)

Yet Marc got married. He and Layla were together for years and, according to her, had "adventures together", meaning they worked as a (likely successful) team. Marc bailed on Layla once his mom passed and he could no longer control or hide his disassociations (plus Khonshu's threats for Layla to be his next avatar).

Point being: Marc did get married and seemed pretty successful at it, for the most part.

Marc is in charge of bath time. This includes little toy boats, fish that squirt water, bubbles. He's going to wash their hair, or whatever hair needs they have, depending on race and hair types. If it is a hair type he isn't as familiar with, he is going to be talking to his partner, looking up vids, whatever it takes. Touch is going to be so important to him. He is the dad who will know how to do french braids or styles for textured hair.

He's never going to react in anger. If he is angry, he's going to hand the reins to Steven or sometimes Jake (if he is able, it's obviously not a parlor trick), or he will just say to his little one, "Daddy is going to take a time out. I'll be back in a minute and we can have a talk." The idea of putting himself in time out is so endearing to his child that they end up calming from whatever misbehavior they were attempting, wanting to join him in the corner for time out, touching a plushie or reading a book in his lap.

They learn very young that their father's expressions can be stern but his hands are safe. They will not want to disappoint him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven can converse naturally with children, this we see in the first episode. Steven's open, engaging nature is great for children. His own childlike wonder will shine in fatherhood. He was also able to quickly redirect the behavior of the girl who was littering at the museum. So a spunky child in a doctor's office waiting room will be easily wrangled by a distracting toy, quick game or wonderful story.

Steven is your go-to guy for bedtime stories. With a young child, Steven will share how wondrous the world around them is. He'll always have a anecdote or a fun fact for tweens or teens.

He will offer choices. "Do you want to put on 'jammies now or after a story?" "Do you want to help Dad set the table or feed the cat?" Steven has lacked agency in his life, so he is going to give it to his child. He will teach them to speak up for their needs.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake is going to be such a little shit as a dad. I'm sorry but there is no nicer way to say it lol. Jake's used to operating in the background and he's a night owl. He's the fun dad. He's the "don't tell mom" dad (or don't tell dad, dad). Kid wants stay up 15 extra minutes? It's Jake that's gonna sneak them some of the popcorn he popped after they were supposed to be asleep. As a partner, you'd find your little one on Jake's knee in the most comfy chair, watching the Yankees play baseball.

You give them The Look™ and they know they are busted. They exchange guilty glances and then Jake starts repeating words in Spanish. Baseball, Popcorn, very good! If you are already all Spanish speakers then Jake pretends to be practicing in both Spanish and English.

Either way, he and his little twin, with their adorable curls, give you shit eating grins.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[roronoacherries]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro

913 words

content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.

notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!

zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.

sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.

there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.

she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).

he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.

you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.

you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.

"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.

"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.

"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.

but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."

you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.

"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.

"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.

"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.

"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.

you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."

and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.

"you won't."

it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will. 

"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like. 

"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips. 

"‘m going to love you for a long, long time…"

zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it. 

“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears. 

"da-ddy yan-keh..."

and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway. 

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

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[delreykenn-punk]

i want your daddy too

(dilf!miguel o'hara x fem babysitter!reader)

warnings: porn with plot, filth, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), fluff?, miguel speaking Spanish IS a WARNING, soft miguel, age agap implied, many petnames, aftercare. This is an AU, the events of the movie do not exist, miguel is not spiderman, he has the life he deserves.

summary: you are so slutty for the dad of the little girl you take care of, he does something about it.

words: 3k

You had been working for Miguel O'Hara for some months, looking after his daughter in the evenings when he went to work and came back late at night. He had no one else to leave her with and couldn't take her with him either. He came into your life or rather you came into his when he contacted you through your ad on the internet offering babysitting services, you were at university and needed to pay for some things, so you started babysitting.

You weren't complaining, you never liked kids but you enjoyed your job. Miguel's daughter Gaby had won your heart completely. She loved you very much, she always waited for you to come home with her, she loved spending time with you. And you loved her too, but you also wanted her dad…

Fuck… the man was screaming DILF all over the place, just thinking about the burly man made your pussy clench, you could feel your panties getting wet and you unconsciously clenched your legs. You bit your lower lip every time you saw his muscular arms flex at the slightest movement, his thighs were huge and you constantly fantasised about riding them.

Sometimes you just wanted the man to slam you against the wall, whip you and fuck you hard and hard, or eat your pussy as if his life depended on it. But you also expected him to love you the way you loved him.

You wanted everything with him, it was impossible not to fall in love with the man, you just had to see how wonderful he was with his daughter, there was also the fact that he treated you so beautifully and how much he cared about you, all those things made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

But of course, first, he was your boss. And second, you didn't know if he was on the same page as you, you couldn't risk ruining everything, just not.

But you were still a slut for him and you weren't ashamed of it.

One night, you were finishing some last chores, Gaby had already gone to sleep, so you took the opportunity to wash a few dishes in the laundry room. It was almost 11 p.m. when Miguel arrived home, he sighed tiredly and went to the kitchen. "Good evening sir" you smiled kindly at him, turned off the tap and took your hands off.

"Please, I told you to call me Miguel" he laughed and set his briefcase on the kitchen counter, loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons, exposing a part of his skin. You weren't discreet about seeing his chest, and he noticed this, but he was still amused by the situation.

He walked over to where you were standing with a look you couldn't quite decipher. You became nervous and swallowed as he stood next to you. "W-would you like me to get you something? Shall I make you something to eat?" you asked as best you could, the man was making you flinch just by his presence.

"No, don't worry, I've already eaten at work and you're not here to serve me chiquita" he laughed and you felt almost faint from the petname, you felt hot and wanted to fan yourself a little. "But, I'd really appreciate it if you could pour me some of that whiskey from the cupboard. I know you know where it is," he winked at you before going to sit on the kitchen stool.

Your cheeks blushed and you were so embarrassed, your boss knew you were drinking from the whiskey, you almost wanted to cover your face in shame. You only drank it when you had a stressful day and you always drank it at night, when Gabi had already gone to sleep and you were waiting for her father to arrive. Miguel let out a loud laugh when he saw your condition. "That's ok, I'm glad you at least like what I buy" he said playfully and winked at you again.

You laughed nervously and headed to the cabinets to get out the bottle of whisky. You grabbed a glass and added a couple of ice cubes, poured the liquid and walked over to the small table to hand it to Miguel "Here you go si- Miguel" you corrected yourself and laughed a little.

He thanked you with a nod and took a sip of the drink. "Oh, I needed this. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome" you smiled kindly. "W-well I was just about to leave, do you need anything else before I go?" you asked as you grabbed your bag from the couch and slung it over your shoulder.

"No, wait, don't go" he almost choked on his whiskey to tell you that. "Pour yourself a drink and drink with me, I'm sure you deserve it. Besides, it's too late for you to go alone, I'll gladly drive you home later" he offered and you couldn't refuse. You left your bag on the couch and headed back to the kitchen with him, grabbed a glass and poured some ice cubes and then poured yourself some whiskey. You sat down on the other stool next to him.

After taking a sip of the whisky, you started talking and laughing together. Sharing random stories of the two of you, getting to know each other better, and the flirting was never lacking. You felt happy and comfortable around him, he was a very kind and gentle man, you also discovered that he was actually very soft and sensitive, another reason to fall in love with him.

As the night progressed, the conversations became even more flirtatious, glances here and there, a lustful atmosphere began to fill the room.

There was a moment when it was just you talking and Miguel simply couldn't pay attention to you, too focused on the movement of your lips and how soft and kissable they looked. "Miguel, are you okay?" he snapped out of his trance and looked up at you, a little embarrassed that he wasn't paying attention to you, but mostly at the thought of the fact that you caught him looking at your lips.

"Sorry, I think I got disconnected for a second, lo siento chiquita" he chuckled softly and his cheeks turned a nice red, you couldn't smile at that.

“Don't worry, no problem” you smiled sweetly at him.

Miguel doesn't know if it was the result of alcohol, most probably it was, because sober he would never have had the courage to say what he thought. “I want to kiss you so much chiquita” he said and looked at your lips again and then looked into your eyes.

You opened your eyes in surprise and swallowed saliva at his words. But, like him, the alcohol was giving you courage and confidence. You weren't drunk, you were aware of what was happening, but you could still feel that the liquid was giving you the guts. “What's stopping you?” you replied with a mischievous grin on your face, you were eager to know what would happen.

If Miguel was surprised by your answer he didn't show it, instead he decided to break the tension once and for all. Finally he leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, taking your face in his hands. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him much closer to you. You felt his tongue against yours, and you shamelessly sucked on his, earning a growl from him. You smiled into the kiss and continued kissing him.

A few seconds later you broke apart for lack of air. You opened your eyes slowly and sighed when he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “I wanted to do this for a long time…” he caressed your cheek and you placed your hand on his, “I wanted it too” you giggled softly.

He caressed you some more before kissing you again. This time, without breaking the kiss, he stood up from his place and made you do the same. He cornered you against the kitchen counter and continued kissing you, this time gently caressing your body in the process, running his hands up your thighs to your chest, caressing your breasts over your blouse. When you felt things were intensifying you broke the connection of their mouths.

You caught your breath before you spoke “Are you sure about this? I don't want you to-” you cut yourself off for a moment, thinking about your words and swallowing before speaking “-I don't want you to regret it later. I-I really want you” you averted your gaze from him in embarrassment, you were somehow exposing your feelings for him.

“Hey look at me” he said in a hard voice, with his fingers he turned your chin to look at him “I'm not kidding, I've wanted this for a long time, I like you a lot chiquita, you're so beautiful and you drive me so crazy” you smiled shyly at his words, you felt your cheeks burning and your heart racing with excitement. “And if you're really sure, we can see where it all goes, ok?” his face was serious and reflected security in his words, but you could still see the softness in his eyes.

“I really like you too Miguel” you pulled him to you, kissing him again.

He moaned into the kiss, grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you up onto the table. “Ay chiquita, you are so lovely” he said between kisses as he began to unbutton your trousers, you moaned and trembled at his movements and words.

“Miguel, please…”you closed your eyes and sighed as he slipped his hand into your jeans, his fingers were close to your centre, you could already feel it throbbing for attention.

“Hmm, tell me what you want baby,” he whispered against your ear and bit the lobe of your ear gently. You flinched and squealed as he rubbed your clit over the fabric of your panties, you squeezed his shoulders and buried your nails in them. “Come on, tell me what you want or I won't do anything” he stopped his movements on your clit and you despaired, he was determined not to give you what you wanted if you didn't speak.

“I-I want your fingers” you begged and took his hand to bring it back to your centre, but he wouldn't let you. “Tell me exactly where you want them…” you moaned in frustration and stirred in place. “Fuck, I want your fingers in my pussy!” you squealed loudly and he laughed smugly.

He slipped his hand back into your jeans and touched above the fabric, stealing moans and sighs from you. “Buena chica…” he said against your mouth, kissing you as you gasped.

You squeezed your breasts above the fabric to increase your pleasure. Quickly, Miguel with his other hand helped you remove your blouse, exposing your naked tits to his gaze, his eyes glistening with lust. “Mierda chiquita, the most beautiful tits I've ever seen” he crooned before leaning down and taking one nipple into his mouth, biting the nipple and sucking on it, then doing the same with the other.

“Oh Miguel!” you moaned louder as you felt his tongue circle the nipple. "I-I need your fingers inside me, please…" without coimplaining, he pulled away from your tits, pulled his hand out of your trousers and removed them, exposing the pink lace panties you were wearing. You were inwardly thankful that you had worn them today, as Miguel seemed to really like them, it made you blush.

Fuck babygirl, you're trying to kill me” he moved closer to you and started kissing your neck, leaving trails of wetness as he went. You arched your body as you felt his hands slowly pull down your panties, your pussy becoming exposed, as did your whole body.

He pulled away from you to look at you completely naked, hissing under his breath at the sight of you looking so beautiful. “Eres tan preciosa bebé.” you bit your lip shyly and spread your legs a little wider.

He laughed at that. “You're a desperate one, can't wait to have my fingers in you again huh?” he brought his hand to your cunt, which by that time was already too wet, and started stroking your clit slowly and gently.

You moaned with satisfaction as you felt his fingers in your pussy again, sighing and rolling your eyes back in pleasure. Without warning, he slipped a finger inside your cavity, making your eyes open and squeal. His fingers were so long and thick, and they hit all the right spots in your cunt. You felt a little embarrassed as you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't care in the end, you just wanted him to keep finger fucking you.

“You're such a slutty princess…you think I don't notice everything you do to get my attention?” he slipped another finger into your cunt and you closed your legs in reaction, but he quickly pulled them apart. “Stay fucking still, or I won't let you cum.” you moaned softly and said nothing anymore.

“You have such a nice tight pussy baby” he caressed your clit with his thumb as he continued to penetrate you with his fingers. You could hear the wet splash he created and that only made you that much more excited, the noise made you wetter.

“D-daddy, don't stop please.” you moaned louder, completely forgetting that the girl was already asleep in her room and could hear them if you kept it up. But Miguel wasn't helping to keep you quiet, it seemed like he was doing it on purpose, just to challenge you. “Hmm, so I'm your daddy? begging to finger fuck you, pequeña zorra” you clenched around his fingers at the words he was saying. You didn't understand what he was saying, but it excited you anyway.

Miguel takes his fingers out of you, you moaned frustrated at the lack of them, you were almost about to reach your orgasm. She brought both fingers to her lips, sucking one by one and savoring your juices with a moan.

“You taste so good babydoll,” he growled before falling to her knees in front of you. He spread your legs and placed them on his shoulders, "this pretty little pussy deserves to be taken care of, don't you think?" He took a deep breath before delving into your slippery folds with his tongue, licking your clit and tickling the sensitive flesh. You arched his body, leaning fully back against the kitchen counter and digging your heels into his back, running your hands through his hair and pulling the soft strands, pulling him even closer to your dripping cunt.

“Oh yes daddy, just like that” You moaned as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. He moved his hands to your chest to grab your tits, squeezed and pinched your nipples, twisting them between his fingers.

Miguel pulled away slightly to spit on your pussy, watching the droplet of saliva slide from your swollen clit to your puckered hole and then fall to the floor beneath you “You're so fucking hot, you drive me so crazy chiquita.” He moaned and continued to eat you like a hungry animal.

You could feel his saliva dripping down to the floor, your body trembled from so much pleasure he was giving you. You began to fuck his face, moving your hips into him and smothering him with your pussy. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer against him, squeezing the plump flesh as he grunted and moaned, alternating his movements in sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue into you. By this time you were a mess, drooling and mumbling incoherently as you felt his tongue in all the right places in your pussy, mewling as he gently bit down on your swollen clit.

Your body began to tighten, and you began to jerk like crazy, you were about to cum. Quickly, you closed your legs around Miguel, smothering him with your cunt, your head snapped back, and you could hear Miguel's grunts. He held your legs next to his face, as he continued to penetrate you with his tongue and suck on your clit.

You arched your back, your toes curled, and with a scream, you finally cum. You felt your juices splash on Miguel's face, and you were about to pull away but he wouldn't let you, continuing to grind his face into you, soaking up every last drop you had expelled, moaning at the sweet taste of your juices.

He continued to lick your center, this time more gently and sweetly, knowing you were numb from your recent orgasm, and when he was satisfied and you were clean he placed a tender kiss on your clitoris and pulled away from you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss.

You kiss him back with the same intensity, savoring your taste in his mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You stick your tongue in his mouth, sucking on it and hear him growl during the kiss. You pull away from him with a snap and a trickle of saliva still binds them together, he looks at you for a few seconds and you let out a giggle.

“Such a pretty baby… ”, he strokes your cheek, you blush and sink your face into his neck. You heard him chuckle softly, still wrapping his arms around you and gently caressing your hips, squeezing the soft flesh lovingly. You rested your head on his shoulder and yawned, your body had relaxed and you were already sleepy. You were trying your best not to fall asleep because you still wanted to fuck him, but you were already tired. He seemed to notice.

“As much as I want to fuck you, we'll have to leave it for another day, sí corazón?” he said and you felt happy and excited, with your face still in his neck you nodded quickly and enthusiastically, that made him laugh a little, he gave you a kiss on the top of your head and lifted you off the table.

You felt him carry you up the stairs and he hurried to take you to his room, he didn't want his daughter to suddenly find them. He closed the door behind him and locked the key, went to his bed and laid you gently on it. In your drowsy state, you snuggled into the pillows, burying your face in them, your hair tousled over your face. Miguel smiled tenderly at how effortlessly you were falling asleep and how beautiful you looked in that state. He took the opportunity to wipe you with a damp flannel, careful not to touch your sensitive clit and disturb you.

When he finished he lay down next to you, covering you both with his sheet, he pulled you to his chest and stroked your hair softly, he could feel your relaxed breathing and the light snores you let out. “Duerme bien chiquita” He kissed you on the forehead, hugged you and fell asleep

He was sure this was how he wanted his life to be from now on.

Translations:

chiquita (petite), lo siento (i'm sorry), mierda (shit), buena chica (good girl😮‍💨), pequeña zorra (you little slut), corazón (the literal translation is “heart” but I'll leave it as “sweetheart”), duerme bien chiquita (sleep well petite), eres tan preciosa bebé (you are so precious baby) aaaand I think that's all (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)