piimentels

[piimentels]

Saw your prompt post! Please do Lunay + number 8 🤍

soltera / lunay

¡Epico!

You belonged to the party scene—and you knew it. You fit right in, and that fact pleased you. Nothing in the world felt better to you that letting that worn soul of yours loose, surrounded by the women you acted like you had known all your life. The bass of every song that they played in every club seemed to resonate within you, and it seemed as if you knew every lyric to every thirsty club song in existence. 

It was clear. You were a party girl and you were proud. 

...que andas suelta igual que yo...

You liked how the club reeked with vapidity—you could take your kill whenever you pleased, and it felt like every person was equally as desperate for fifteen minutes of what they wished was love. It was easy. The only thing you had to do was to never hesitate. Take that chance. As your friend had once said it, “ninguna vacilación, mami.”

Vacilar.

To hesitate. 

You never hesitated. You got what you wanted, and you fucked when you wanted. So why were you hesitating now?

“Ey?” You see a glimpse and eyebrow slit. A quirked mouth. Confusion. “Mami, tener cuidado.” Oh. A hand reaches out, tissues enclosed in them, in an attempt to removed the widening stain of a bitter whisky on your dress. 

You leaned back instinctively, your arms touching your chest.

“What, do I surprise you?”

“No, it’s just...”

“It’s just what?”“You don’t know how flustered you made me—and I don’t get flustered easily.”

“Is that so, mami?” He swayed slightly, and you didn't know if it was because he was drunk of if he was truly feeling the music; you liked it either way. There was something hypnotizing about the way he moved his hips, and it was enticing you like a snake charmer to it’s prey. “I’ll show you flustered.”

...las mano' contra la pare'...

“You ,papi—.”

“Come here, mami. don’t hide.”

“Te voy a follar bien. Muy-muy bien.”

-

( have y’all heard that tiktok sound that's like ‘i’m at the point where i don't really give a fuck now’ cause yeah. this sucked hot flaming ass but oh well, we move. i also only write these when I’m tired and about to go to bed which makes no fuckling sense but for that reason y’all not getting smut. but the way i produce these after like two weeks and expect y’all to eat it up is quite sick! enjoy though! )

[piimentels]

bitch eleanor this is u isn’t it

it is i, yes 🌚

[piimentels]

Hi Honey! About your prompts, would you mind doing Brandon + prompt 10? Thank you so much!

penny for your thoughts / brandon arreaga

( Thank you for sending this in, lovely! It’s 11 PM, but I’ve managed to fit you in for tonight because honestly this prompt with Brandon is so cute. I hope you enjoy! )

BRANDON IGNORES YOU momentarily as he places the talkbox in his mouth, grinning at you. His earring, glinting from the natural sunlight, brushes against the skin on his cheek as he he readjusts himself. You’re desperate to reach out and touch his soft, dark hair, and maybe wrap your finger around the streak he had dyed blond a few weeks earlier in a moment of misjudgment.

“A penny for your thoughts!” He says, beating you to it. You smile once again, touched by how eager her was to know about what was gracing your mind. He also sounds delightfully weird through the talkbox, which makes your smile even bigger.

Closing his eyes, he tilts his head, removing his glasses. You knew that he didn’t particularly like being seen without his glasses, so his solution was that if he closed his eyes, technically since he couldn’t see anyone else, no one could see him.

You had no idea how that even worked.

“I don’t know, really,” you say, resting your jaw on you hand. “I’m thinking about lots of things.”

Removing the talkbox from his mouth, he says, “Which is exactly why I said penny for your thoughts. As in plu-ral.” Staring at you expectantly, he adds “So, baby, what are your thoughts?”

“Well,” you huff, catching his eye. He eyes glitter at you as he seems to want to hear every word you say. His eyes, intense, stare you down as you stumble to think of words. “ I was just thinking about how you dyed your hair.”

“Oh?”

“You and too many beers don’t go well together and you know that, B.” He laughs at this statement, leaning back on his chair.

“You know what two things go together well?” He doesn’t wait for you to reply, just bursts with: “Me and you. Always.”

“I like the sound of that. Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m pretty sure Bazzi wrote every single love song about someone just like you,” He pauses, thinking. “But fuck that. I’ve written a few words about you, you pretty lady. All I need is for you to hear them and tell me that I’m doing it right.”

( I’m sorry this is short as fuck, but I hope you enjoy! Also it’s not fully proofread as I’m tired as fuck so goodnight ! )

[piimentels]

prompts!

Hi y’all, I’ve been inactive as fuck. I’m so so sorry about that ... it’s so yikes. To make it up to y’all, I’ve produced some prompts that I can whip up a blurb about.

THE RULES ↙︎

Tell me who you want it to be about, plus the the number. Remember to send it as an ask! (Example: Joel + number 1.)

Imagines can be about Lunay, CNCO or PRETTYMUCH.

Maximum THREE (different) people about each prompt. If I have done a prompt about X-PERSON with PROMPT-Y, I’m not going to do the same person and same prompt again. I’m kinda basic, OK! However, different people can be requested with the same prompt. 

Strikethroughs represent prompts that cannot be used. 

That’s all. Also please request or I’ll cry. 

THE PROMPTS ↙︎

ONE; “He’s just some hot-shot, Y/N. Ignore him.” he glowers, irritated by the presence of his own brother. Snaking round to press his lips next to your ear, he murmurs, “promise me you’ll never get involved with him, ever.”

TWO; “—and that, ladies, is why I vowed to never fall in love!”

THREE; “Take a picture, it lasts longer,”

FOUR; “Do you think she’s playing in the stars?” you sigh, the freshness of she country-side etched into your skin. He nods, a pained expression printed on his face. “I hope she’s happy, if she’s up there.”

FIVE; “Could you help me pick out your nicest clothes? I’d like to think my girlfriend dresses like you.”

SIX; “Shit, baby, you sure you’re not a model?”

SEVEN; “Stop telling me you love me just so you can see me hurting,”

EIGHT; “You don’t know how flustered you make me, baby — and I don’t get flustered easily.”

NINE; “I don’t know why I’m still working up the courage that tell you that I don’t love you anymore!”

TEN; “I’m pretty sure Bazzi wrote every single love song about someone just like you,”

ELEVEN; “I was going to write a song about how we fell in love, but since I’m a terrible liar, I, instead, wrote the the song of our demise.”

TWELVE; “I’m so sick of looking at you and not being able to remember who you really are!”

THIRTEEN; “Kiss me so gently that the lack of touch leaves me breathless,”

FOURTEEN; “She played me like I was the whole arcade,”

FIFTEEN; “But then I found you,” he grins, breathless, “so everything is more than OK now.”

SIXTEEN; “Your voice is music to my ears,”

SEVENTEEN; “Every time I close my eyes the thing I see behind them is you.”

EIGHTEEN; “I tell you dumb jokes just to see you smile,”

NINETEEN; “I hate rain,” you mutter under your breath as you watch a droplet duo down your nose and land on the grassy ground beneath you.

“But why?” a voice questions, “when rain is the indicator of growth?”

TWENTY; “I don’t love you anymore but I promise you that I’ll never stop loving her.”

[piimentels]

LAYLIE’S CORNER ⤵︎

i know i’ve not been writing anything recently but, no normani or anything, i’ve had no motivation to do so. school is literally curb-stomping me right now and i’m especially stressed about my lack of coursework, ha. i guess to make it up to y’all ... i’ll show y’all my latest zabdiel drawing. i don’t know if it’s complete yet.

ignore the lack of eyes or i’ll cry. 🖐🏽

[piimentels]

masterlist.

(UPDATED: 31/12/2019) 

CNCO

fair play / zdj

PRETTYMUCH

to be announced ;)

[piimentels]

masterlist? masterlist.

OK so I know I only have one fic out but I’m about to make a masterlist …  anyways, the first part of ‘tattooed heart / christopher velez’, comes out tomorrow (hopefully) because it’s set in the new year. does anyone want to be on a tag list or am I talking to the void again?

[piimentels]

Cancel culture isn’t real.

It never has been, and never will be. It’s delusional to say that people who partake in ‘cancel culture’ have a negative impact on activism when it’s been proven time after that after the intial ‘call-out’, the general public usually go back to supporting famous racists. Look at Shane Dawson, Camila Cabello, James Charles. All have thriving careers yet you try to claim cancel people is ‘hurtful’. How is cancelling people hurtful when their careers take a dip for a week or two and then they get right back to where they were in their industry?

“Cancel culture is not activism.” You say that because you refuse to look beneath the first few tweets / reblogs / comments you see about said cancelled individual(s), which quite clearly highlights your lack of knowledge.

Let’s Camila Cabello’s racist comments as an example, since they’ve been brought to light quite recently.

The apology she gave was a deflection of the situation at hand. She, I quote, said “I used language I’m deeply ashamed of.” yet made no further attempts to recognise the extent of her actions. This wasn’t just her ‘saying the n word in a song’, it was her:

a.) calling Normani Kordei and Barack Obama n*ggers,

b.) invalidating r*pe victims with “It’s not r*pe if you like it.”

c.) repeatedly using derogatory slurs and stereotypes against people of color.

“...why not find a way to put more love out there? ... On education? On service?” Nobody owes you, or people being cancelled, anything. Ever. It is not up to the marginalised people to tell you where you went wrong and help you fix it. Growth is where said person who was prejudiced realises what their mistake is and shown themselves growing from it.

Marginalised groups don’t have to accept your apology either. Nobody cares how sincere you think it is.

“... as human beings, we all have the ability to learn. To grow.” Marginalised groups do allow growth. But it is growth on their terms, not yours.

It’s also clear that you out yourself as a potential former racist/homophobe when you say “If I had to continue answering on a daily basis for every mistake I’ve ever made in the past 29 years of life? ... I’d be fucking done for.” Lucky for you that you don’t. Neither does anyone who has been ‘cancelled’. Nobody sits down and asks a former racist every single day why they did racist actions. They talk once or twice about it and use a race/sexuality empowerment movement for clicks and then it’s done with.

It’s quite crazy that you’ve lived for nearly thirty years yet you still fail to recognise when you should sit back for once. You cannot be every marginalised party there is yet you still try to somehow speak for all of them.

It’s also come to my attention that you’re white, which means that you have no say, that’s right, none at all, about how people react to racism. It never impacted you, so you have no reason to care yet somehow you still do, but in all the wrong places.

It’s obvious that you care little about the emotions of others who have been on the receiving end of things like this, for you believe that people who react negatively to racism are just as bad as racists themselves. “If that’s all you’re doing, you’re no better than the person you’re cancelling.”

I hope you take time to re-evaluate your stance on cancel culture because, frankly, it shows little regard for people of colour and comes off as ignorant, if not slightly racist.

Let’s talk about Cancel Culture for a second.

I don’t care who you are or what communities you’re a part of, you’ve been prejudiced against someone in your lifetime. Whether it was based on race, sexuality, religion, gender identity, nationality, socioeconomic class, disability, whatever, you’re lying if you claim to never have harbored prejudice beliefs and spoken upon them. Maybe it wasn’t on social media. Maybe it was before social media (some of us did exist in those days). Regardless, we’ve all felt and said hurtful things towards other human beings in our lives. 

But here’s the thing - as human beings, we have the ability to learn. To grow. To make amends and become better people. If I had to continue answering on a daily basis for every mistake I’ve ever made in the past 29 years of life? I simply couldn’t. If every job I ever tried to do, if every person I ever tried to love, if every friend I tried to make cast me aside because of things I said or did in my teenage years? I’d be fucking done for. We all would. But the beauty of humanity is that hopefully, as we grow older and experience the world and meet people outside of the original bubble we were brought up in, we open up. We see other perspectives. We begin to understand people that have had experiences different than our own. We unlearn the misconceptions pushed upon us by our parents and communities. We reflect, we relearn, we become better. We do better. And it’s a lifelong journey. 

Cancel Culture is not activism. It’s an excuse to focus on someone else’s wrongs and typically, people stop there. They use social media to spout off and judge the mistakes of others but seldom do any real work to support and uplift the marginalized group that’s been impacted. In a lot of cases, the cancelling is being done most vehemently by someone who either already hated that person or who knows nothing little to nothing about them. Inciting hatred towards another person, especially when they’ve acknowledged their mistakes and apologized, isn’t helping anyone. All it’s really doing is adding more hate to a world that has more than enough of it as it is. Instead of putting all of that negativity into the world, why not find a way to put more love out there? Why not use your time to shower other people with encouragement and respect? Why not focus on outreach? On education? On service? If all you’re doing as part of “cancel culture” is tweeting and reblogging…you aren’t helping. You aren’t doing anything of substance. Especially if the sentiments you’re promoting are hateful. If that’s all you’re doing, you’re no better than the person you’re cancelling. 

[piimentels]

i literally went to sleep yesterday after making the ‘zabdiel i’m free—’ and the ‘how do i make friends?’ post. today i woke up with 60+ notifications on my three posts. this fandom is so nice i’m literally shocked, like, my initial reaction was ‘what?’ because i thought that tumblr was malfunctioning. i’m gonna reply to everyone who replied. thank you all for that :)

[piimentels]

welcome to tumblr love !! 🤍 you're gonna love it here i promise, feel free to message me anytime xx

this is my first ‘ask’! thank you so much, and i will be messaging you when i need to! thank you, thank you!

[piimentels]

i’m not used to this tumblr life ... how do i even make friends on here? does anyone wanna be friends or do i just have to talk in into the void for the rest of my time here? x also here’s a zabdiel picture for y’all :)

[piimentels]

zabdiel if you read this i'm free on thursday night and would like to hang out. please respond to this and then hang out with me on thursday night when i'm free.

[piimentels]

in this house we only stan zabdiel

[piimentels]

im just out here existing and richards just like ‘🥺’ like fuck it you want me to die for you? fuck yeah ill do it for you and you alone baby i wont even hesitate

[piimentels]

fair play / zabdiel de jesús.

warning(s); shitty, school level spanish. (phrases only, no full sentences.) tiny amounts of vulgar language. also! read the a/n at the end, please. 

recommendation(s); imagine this zabdiel as a mix between the de cero and pretend video. 

1K words.

[PART 1/?] 

You’re eyeing him inconspicuously — well, you hope so. Your eyes are dancing from the sudden influx of late-ish lunchtime customers, the break room, and then, finally, him. You know it’d be better for you both if you just decide to retreat to the break room to realign your sanity, but after performing the routine of looking to the customers and him, once, twice, three times, you decide to follow him instead.

“Y/N.” You can tell he is exasperated, due to the fact that his right hand is twitching at his side where the box rests, but you also know that he’s going to be nice. Well, as nice as he can be when he’s desperate to fit in a cigarette in his fifteen minute break.

“Zabdiel.” You don’t flinch or cough the way you used to when you say his name, instead your tone matches the one he gave you. Flat, but not that uninviting.

 Zabdiel, however, ignores you calling out his name, instead flicking open the box to retrieve a cigarette. He curses under his breath as he realises there’s so little left, but withdraws one from the box anyway. Placing the cigarette between his stereotypically coloured bubblegum-pink mouth, his lips are pressing the stick into place as his hands cup the space around it.

 An ember of a flame appears at the end of the cigarette, causing him to inhale, his eyes closed in relief. The stress from the day seems to ebb away as his eyes scrunch up, reddening the skin around them. His long, delicate lashes peek out from his closed eyes, and a genuine smile is curving up on his face.

 Exhaling, he squints at you, with one warm honey brown eye lightened by the sun. A lightly ringed hand goes up to cover his face from the harsh November sun. Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, he says after some time, “Y/N.” his pronunciation of your name is precarious. He pauses again, as if considering his words. Finally, he removes the cigarette and speaks. “What do you want?”

 “Can we share?” you nod your head to the cigarette. He blinks, unmoving, before bursting into short unbelieving laughter. He only laughs twice or so, but your edges are frayed. So, even though you’d never smoked a cigarette in your life, you reach for the one resting in his hand.

 “¿Qué haces, chica?” An amused smile rests on his face as he sort of almost holds the cigarette out to you, seemingly tempting you. His expression is daring, and he’s waiting to see if you’ll take it. His singular eyebrow raised, he seems to almost whisper, ‘go on and take it – if you’re needy enough.’

 You frown, yet still reach to take it. However, his hand jerks backwards, the knowing smile still lingering yet dampened by surprise. It’s obvious that he’d never thought you’d try take it, so he tuts, saying, “Ah, ah, ah,” as he shakes his head. “Don’t you know that cigarettes are bad?” Laughing, he mutters something under his breath, something in his native language that you fail to catch.

 “Then … then why are you smoking one?” you fire back, and eyebrow raised to mock the expression he gave you before. “Hm?”

 “Well you see, it’s much harder to stop after you start. You haven’t started yet. ¿Ya tu sabes?” He nods after choosing his words carefully, please with the answer he presented you with. He seems to suddenly remember the cigarette between his long, slender fingers, and places it between his lips again, drawing in a breath through his rosy kisser.

“And how do you know that I don’t smoke?”

Wheezing slightly, he tilts his head as if saying, ‘really?’ You see the tiniest peek on an image – a dragon? a snake? – inked on his neck as he does so.  “You never smell of smoke, and you never, ever, ask anyone for one. Why today?” He looks away for a second as he taps the ash from the end of the cigarette.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Well, I guess I play fair. Here. Tomala.” His tattooed wrist flicks the cigarette easily and lazily to you.

“Thank you.” you take the cigarette from his surprisingly cold fingers, you swear you’ve only been out here for less than ten minutes and Zabdiel is an assigned dishwasher today. How you know that, though, is lost to you. The cigarette is warmer in comparison to his fingers, and you place it next to your lips, drawing in a breath. You hold in a cough disguised as a hiccup, and try to blow the smoke out the same way he did. Well, as best as you could. “Fuck.”

“Y/N ...” he drags out the last syllable from your name, shaking his head and grinning as he reaches for the cigarette. “Give it to me.”

You oblige, letting out the cough you desperately needed to. You hold back a second cough, however, because you don’t want to make it seem like you’re suddenly fighting for your life. “Jesus ... that was, uh, tough.”

“Um, you know you can call me by my first name, right? Also, it isn't even pronounced like that.”

“I know!” You protest, swatting him away. “I wasn't even using the word like that.” But it’s no use, he’s under your skin like a splinter, again, making you feel the heat under his glinting stare. You remember how he used to make you burn from something as simple as a hand on your however back when he was passing by, or even a fleeting glance.  

“Ah,” he checks his watch, sighing as he stubs out his cigarette, only half used. “Well. I won’t catch you out, dulzura. I’m all about fair play.”

Zabdiel squeezes past you through the glass door leading to the restaurant, and you feel you back tingle as he places his hand on your back as he passes through the narrow deck. Just like the way he always used to. You stiffen, though he only touches you for what, a second?

He turns slightly, and his coral pink lips are by your ear. You smell the smoke on him more intensely now, and his breath is warm and fanning your face. 

“But are you, princesa?”

And he’s gone.

author’s note; hey, hi i guess. this is the first time iv’e ever posted on tumblr so idk what i’m doing but! if anyone sees this i hope you enjoyed it, its slightly edited but will be revised again later on. also, i’m unsure if there will be a second part because as you can tell, this sucks. it sucks a lot. if you want to be friends message me please i’m literally begging please please please

imagine if you wanted to be on a taglist or whatever, (message me) ... haha, jk ...unless?