#felipe h

[tinta-y-cometas]

Espero te acuerdes de nosotros y quizá en otra vida nos volvamos a encontrar.

-Felipe H.

[thecatalogueofroyalfashion]

Queen Letizia  ||  H&M

[victoriademedici]

Who is the most handsome Royal and who’s the most beautiful Royal in your opinion?

I don’t have the same taste as everyone but I’ll just say everyone who I’ve had a crush on bc I can’t just pick one of both 😅

Crown Princess Victoria, Princess Sofia, Princess Catherine, a way younger Prince William, a younger Princess Anne, Autumn Kelly, a few more royals I don’t want to name 😇 King Felipe (the hottest king OF ALL TIME), Princess Ingrid Alexandra, Prince Gabriel (AKA Daddy Belgium), and young Prince Edward

[cparti-mkiki]

Prince Philip (IV) of Spain, 1613 - Bartolomé González

[sociedadnoticias]

Que no le digan… | Mario A Medina | Hamás, y el silencio cómplice

Que no le digan… | Mario A Medina | Hamás, y el silencio cómplice #PeriodismoParaTi #SociedadNoticias #Israel #Palestina #QueNoLeDigan @MarioA_Medina @lopezobrador_ #FAM

Sí, efectivamente, nada justifica la violencia contra civiles, venga de donde venga. La violencia nos horroriza. Por Mario A. Medina Sí, efectivamente, nada justifica la violencia contra civiles, venga de donde venga. La violencia nos horroriza. La humanidad la debemos de evitar pero “es imprescindible analizar las causas y las claves de los conflictos políticos y militares”, en este caso, del…

[meatonfork]

Fresh Faces

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pairing: platonic 141 x grim 

warnings: mission gone wrong, grim having a breakdown, death, child death, drugs, vomit, usual cod violence

summary: sometimes all you need is a fresh face to calm you down

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the mission had gone so, terribly wrong. no one had anticipated that the cartel had known you were here. 

your target had been the biggest cocaine distributor from san felipe to guadalajara. he was dangerous, killing civilians and even his own men. 

alejandro had contacted price for help in taking him down. without hesitation, you all flew down to your favorite spanish speaking friends. 

everyone knew this mission would be hard, seeing as alejandro and his men couldn’t do it without help, but you didn’t expect it to be this hard. this gruesome. 

your team had reached the warehouse you assumed him to be in, but all you saw was a row of bodies- civilians- laid out on the ground. blood pooling on the concrete. men, women, children.

it was a murder scene straight out of a horror movie. except this wasn’t a horror movie, this was real life.

the metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils, making you gag. your eyes watered from the smell, and the buzzing of flies echoed in your ears. 

turning to ghost, you make eye contact. he shakes his head and leaves the building. 

it took you three weeks to find him. and when you did, your team took him in.

infiltrating the base was hard. somehow, he knew you were coming. your breath was ragged as you took down one of his men off sight. you all had been split from each other, relying on your comms to keep in check and make sure everyone else was alive.

“grim, how copy?”

silence.

“grim. how copy.” ghost’s voice held a slight edge to it.

nothing.

“kid! are you alive?”

finally, a crackle buzzed in his ear before your heavy breathing came through. 

“yeah, yeah i’m good. got caught up with some bastard.” blood soaked your front from the slice in his neck. he had you pinned behind a counter of a bakery. your hand barely reaching your knife held on your thigh in time to slice his throat. the blood rained down on you, covering you face, neck, and chest. 

“are you hurt?” it was soap this time.

“nah. covered in blood, but it isn’t mine.” you held a small smile on your lips as you raced across the street, navigating your way through town. 

“atta, kid. livin’ up to the name, huh?” soap chuckled a bit.

“duh. i have a reputation to hold up to serg.”

“kid, we’re on the east side of town. think you can manage getting over here?” ghost’s voice no longer held as much edge to it, but he didn’t like that you were on the complete opposite end of town from them.

“yeah, i’ll be there. don’t wait up.”

walking through the alleyways and ransacked buildings, you stumble across a house.

someone’s home.

it was quite. so quite. you make your way through the home, sweeping rooms before heading to the back door.

a gruesome sight stopped you in your tacks.

children. three of them cowering in the corner next to, who you assumed to be, their dead parents. blood and bullets holes splattered the room and furniture. 

they looked at you with wide eyes, “h-hi, guys.”

they scoot further back.

“no no. it’s okay, i won’t hurt you.” your voice was soft as you slowly reach your hand to them, the other held your gun.

you slowly took a step forward when a shot rang out from behind you.

a sharp pain grazing your arm made you spin around with a hiss. one of his men stood behind you, and you rose your rifle to take aim. he was quicker and pulled the trigger before you could. but he didn’t aim for you.

no. 

why would he aim for you?

why would he when he could easily shoot the kids behind you? 

and that was exactly what he did. 

“NO!” your voice rang out as you jumped towards him. he sidestepped you and continued firing. you finally caught him and shot him through the eye. 

you were too late.

“fuck! FUCK!” your eyes immediately watered as you looked toward their lifeless bodies. deep sobs wracked your body, chest heaving. 

your mind went hazy, a fog settling over your conscience. 

“grim.”

you don’t even hear ghost’s voice flood into your comms.

“grim, how copy?”

“grim, how copy god damn it!”

“fine, sir.” your voice trembled, and huffs of air left your lips unevenly.

“what’s wrong?” can’t get anything passed them. you knew that.

“rough encounter, sir.”

“get over here as quick as you can manage. we got him.”

“copy.”

the rest of the trip over to your team went by too quickly for you to register. your mind raced a million miles a minute. the tears never left your eyes, and breath never evened out. 

it wasn’t hard to find your boys. the humvees crowding a warehouse seemed to do the trick in drawing your attention. 

the slamming of a car door captured their attention as you threw yourself in the backseat.

“creepin’ bloody jesus!” soap jumped at the sound and turned to see you running your hands through your hair in the widow. when your fist connected with the headrest in front of you, ghost decided it was time to head back to base.

your boys tried to get you to talk, but all they got in return was silence. tears cut through the blood covering your cheeks. every time you closed your eyes, flashes of the kids looking at you desperately flashed through your mind. when it got too quiet in the humvee, your mind would make you hear their screams. it was too much.

just as alejandro parked the car, you jumped out and threw up on the ground right outside the door. 

“fuck.” your throat was raw, small hands shaking. you straightened your back and quickly walked into base. 

the guys shared a glance at each other, silently asking, “what the fuck.”

locking yourself in the nearest bathroom, you threw up once more. 

it was too much.

your cries must have been loud enough for them to hear, because a knock sounded at the door.

“one minute, please.” your voice rang out, cracking mid-sentence. 

“just me, kid. let me in.” ghost’s gruff voice sounded through the locked door. you shifted over and unlocked the door.

the click must have been loud enough to let ghost know the coast is clear, because next you knew his large hand was on your shoulder and the door was locked again.

“i’m not good at this, you know that. but, do you want to talk about what you saw out there?” his voice was significantly softer than usual.

he grabbed a small towel and ran it under warm water before crouching in front of you and wiping your face and grazed arm gently with it.

you looked a mess. hair wild, and pulling from your loose ponytail. tears streamed through the dried blood caking your face and neck. bruising was popping up on your skin, and your chest heaved with unfinished breaths. 

you finally made eye contact. 

it was still too much. 

you broke. sobbing hysterically. you couldn’t breathe.

through broken sentences and your blubbering, you finally got it out to him.

those kids needed your help, and yet they died. it was your fault. 

why couldn’t you do your job right?

it should’ve been you. 

you shouldn’t be here, breathing. 

they should. 

you must’ve almost passed out, because next thing you knew, two large hands were holding your face and ghost was crouched in front of you.

“hey. hey, that was not your fault.” he was whispering now. pulling you back down to earth. “there was nothing you could’ve done. you hear me? nothing.”

you didn’t say anything back, you just stared him in the eyes, trembling hands reaching up to wrap around his wrists. your small fingers were freezing against his warm skin.

“i want you to nod, or say something, to let me know you understand.” he was demanding, but he wasn’t rough. he was being gentle. 

you let a small nod slip, but your eyes were glazed over and not focusing on him anymore. 

he slowly let go of your face, but the sudden lack of warmth on your cheeks made you reach back out for him, a small whine leaving your lips.

“it’s okay. i’m just reaching for something.” he waited until you stilled to slowly reach for his mask and balaclava, pulling them off. 

the sudden reveal of his face made you gasp. although they were surrounded by black paint, his brown eyes seemed brighter without the mask now that you could properly see his blonde brows and lashes. his nose was crooked, like it had been broken but he set it back himself. it suit him perfectly. his blonde hair was messy, but fell close to his eyes. his lips were full, but not overly plump.

without thinking, you reach a hand out. your fingers brushed over his cheekbone, but you immediately pull it back. his hand quickly catches yours, running his thumb across your knuckles. his face is like a breath of fresh air.

you take a deep breath, “you’re pretty, ghost.”

a small smile tugs at his lips, his eyes crinkling.

“so are you, kid. so are you.”

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a/n: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3

[vctrvn-ls]

Hi babes! Could you write something about Filly and Reader being together and they're filming a video and he is like clinging to her? Just like he's with Nella, he's a touch starved boy hehe

General Knowledge | Filly |

warnings: language

wordcount: 2.1k

"Yeah maaaann!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"...." Filly looked at you with crossed eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," you snorted "I'm sorry that was just really funny to me." You covered your face.

"Gyal's laughing at my intro." Filly turned to the camera "She's laughing at my intro."

"No, no, no, no," you tried to protest but the laughter just kept coming "No, no, no." You grabbed onto his shoulder, throwing your head down in efforts to hide your face.

"Oh my god who did I bring?" Filly stated glancing down at you, who was dying for literally no reason.

"Anyway!" Filly continued as you sat up and cleared your throat "Todays guest as you can see is the one and only y/n!!" He grabs both of your shoulders from behind, presenting his guest, whilst shaking you aggressively.

You hold on for dear life, trying your best not to laugh again. Filly's excitement and joy was so contagious that even the saddest mood would lighten up in seconds.

"Thank you for having me." You wave to the lens "I'm really thrilled to be here. And I can't wait to destroy him with my big brain." You point to your head with both fingers.

"Now the last bit was so unnecessary." He poked you.

"No, no I think it was. I mean I don't want to spoil the whole video, but I definitely think I'm gonna win." You nodded confidently.

"Well," Filly said in a cheeky tone "What you don't know...IS THAT YOU'RE GOING AGAINST DARKEST MAN!" His voice rung at the last part followed by cheers and claps from him.

You turned around seeing Darkest running from behind a corner with his arms up and smiling, waving from side to side like a football player who had just scored a goal. Of course you saw him earlier today, but never would you have guessed that you would be playing against him.

"Love, love everyone." He sat down next to Filly "Nice to see you again Miss y/l/n." He stuck his hand out for you to shake.

"Nice to-" your words were cut of with your mouth dropping open in utter shock as Darkest dodged your handshake, pretending to fix this beanie.

"Oh man." Filly covered his mouth "Just the beginning and he's already violating you." Filly poked your chest.

"Tsk don't touch me, Felipe." You rolled your eyes and swatted away his finger, actually feeling a tiny bit annoyed.

"Felipe!" Filly repeated for the audience "She got so mad she used my govvy against me." He screwed his eyes shut throwing himself onto you and making you retract your serious face, breaking into a series of small giggles while try hug him back.

To be fair it was hard to be mad at anyone with the presence of Filly. He really was a ray of sunshine. A very loud ray of sunshine.

After the explaining of the rules and the forfeit being The World's Hottest Chip, you and Darkest went serious and in full focus.

"Alright hit me." Darkest said sharply, hyping himself up.

"First round!" Filly announced "Flags."

"Oh shit." You cursed.

"Not a good sign," Filly chuckled at your words "Flag number one...Darkest you go first." he held up the phone to his friend.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait. Wait." You held your finger up and leaned forward.

Filly blinked at you in confusion, not knowing what you were going at.

"Filly what's with the sexism?" You state in monotone, trying your best not to crack up. Filly did though "NAAAH!" He yelped, covering his face, falling onto your shoulder while howling from laughter.

Poor darkest didn't know if he could laugh at that joke or not.

You turned to the camera, shaking your head while tutting in disappointment "The disrespect."

Filly gripped onto you trying not to pass out from how much he was already tired of laughing. But it was only the beginning of the video.

"You know what?" He managed to squeeze out a couple of strained words "You know what?" He wiped his eyes "It's funnier because of her face- Like do ya'll see how serious she is?" Filly looks at you again.

"It's funny because you think I'm joking when I'm not." You shake your head.

"Really?" He asked naively.

"No of course not." You giggle, pushing his knee "You idiot."

"A-am I interrupting something?" Darkest leaned over to the two of you, waving his hands "Should I maybe leave?"

"Nah, nah." Filly breathed out "We're done, we're done."

"No actually maybe you should." You replied, again with your serious tone.

"Great." Darkest leaned back onto the couch, crossing his arms and staring right into the camera, whilst in the background Filly's chortling chimed through the room.

After the first round you were behind by two points, which wasn't looking good for you. You really didn't want to eat that spicy chip.

"Round numero dos." Filly declared, looking at his phone "Maths."

You nodded enthusiastically "Now this is my time to shine."

"Is it though?" Darkest asked in a sassy tone.

"Hey listen yeah," you leaned over Filly glaring  at Darkest "Just because your forehead is big, doesn't mean your brain is alright?" The irony was probably funnier than the actual joke, considering the fact that you were losing.

"Oh my god." Filly dropped his phone, hiding his open mouth with the palms of his hands while staring at darkest.

"You see," Darkest shuffles in his position and moved forward, closer to the camera, as if talking to the audience "She's getting way too comfortable." He shook his head.

You bit onto your lip, trying not to laugh.

"I say one, ONE word to her and she just buries me." He sighs, dramatically dropping his head down, making you completely lose it and grab Filly's shoulder while biting onto your sleeve.

Now, words can't even describe how loud and high-pitched Filly's next howl was when he turned around and saw your hilarious face, eyes watering, eyebrows up and the fact that you were literally BITING down onto your hand so you wouldn't crack up.

The whole room instantly filled with the most outrageous forms of laughter. Darkest was swaying from side to side on the couch, holding onto his stomach, while Filly's friends behind the camera rolled around on the floor (the editor was also laughing after zooming onto your face).

Sounds dumb, but to witness your expression that you had pulled was really a sight to see.

Filly himself was back on you, vigorously clinging on and laughing right in your ear (you thought you were gonna go deaf).

"Oh my Christ!" You almost felt tears in your eyes "I-I-" you tried to speak, but another wave of Filly's hilarious laughter threw you off making you grab onto his sweater and pray to god that you weren't going to burst right there and then.

Few seconds later the atmosphere relaxed and you managed to say what you wanted to "I was gonna say, I don't know what I was laughing at more at the fact that you guys were literally on the floor," you pointed to Filly's friends "Or at your laughter that fucking almost made me lose my hearing." You looked at Filly and gave him a playful shove.

"Oh my days," he chuckled "This is on god the best video I have ever made."

"Maths." You stated.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, so," he read from his phone "nine times n-"

"EIGHTY ONE!" You shout, jumping up.

Darkest and Filly exchanged glances.

"Thank you, thank you very much," you shook Filly's hand as you sat down "And that's," you turned to the lens "That's how it's done."

And that is pretty much how the maths round went, Filly didn't even have a chance to finish the question because you were already yelling out the answer.

Thanks to your wonderful mathematics skills, you were beating darkest by three points, leaving him in utter shock as the third round came by.

"Round number threeeee. Music."

You and Darkest both let out a groan.

"What?" Filly asked "This is probably the easiest one."

"Yeah well if it's not Drake or fucking Lady Gaga then I probably don't know." Darkest admitted, aggressively shaking his head in the funny way he always does.

"Pfffttt-AHAHAAH" You fell back, pulling Filly after you by his shoulder completely on accident, making him crash into you.

"Oh I'm sorry!" He wheezed, worried that he might've hurt you, but you didn't feel anything except him holding onto your arm.

While the two of you were busy laughing, Darkest was talking to the audience "I feel like I've been third wheeling this entire video." He blinks "I'm sad." He says dramatically knitting his eyebrows and sniffing.

"Aye Darkest, man," Filly sat up, eyes all wet "We love you, I swear."

"Well he does," you mumble "Don't make it we."

"Alright I'm do-"

"No no no I'm kidding!" You exclaim, reaching over to Darkest "I'm just playing!" You pat his shoulder before sitting back down.

"Phew, alright. Let's start."

An unfamiliar melody started playing and you looked at Darkest who was just as clueless as you were.

"Are you serious?" Filly's eyebrows jumped up as he noticed the two of you.

You shook your head.

"Not a clue."

"Honest. Baby Keem?"

"Huh?" You leaned in to look at Filly's phone.

"You know the one that sang Orange Soda."

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Bitch sit on my face I attack that?" Filly hummed and tried to move his shoulders in a rhythm.

"Horror." Darkest said pointing at Filly's shoulders "Absolute horror."

Filly's mouth fell open in offense and he turned to you "You're not gonna back me here?"

You slowly shook your head "No he's right."

Filly theatrically threw his arms up and turned to the camera "Comment down below-"

"No honey don't embarrass yourself," you said in a California-girl accent while disappointingly shaking your head and putting one hand on Filly's shoulder in a sassy motion.

"What the-" Filly wheezed not even able to finish his sentence as his eyes screwed shut.

After a few minutes of calming down, you continued. Again.

"Next one. Now this is a friend test," he played the track.

A millie-second had passed, no not even a millie second, a quarter of a second. You had only managed to hear like three notes when you jumped up in your seat and roared out "100 BAGS!" You looked at Filly.

"Freestyle." You added, just in case.

"Ladies and gentlemen we have a winner..." Filly announced looking down "Y/N!!!!" He cheered, grabbing your hand and putting it up just like in boxing matches, while Darkest face planted the couch.

"She needs to understand that P's last quarter a hundred grand-" you had an imaginary microphone in your hand, handing it over to Filly who instantly caught on "Call me the runnin' man, chasing the next hundred grand...” “Rah, rah-”

To make a long story (or more like song) short, you both finished the entire track whilst doing questionable dance moves and Filly ended it with a tight and affectionate hug stating "This is what true friends look like."

But that wasn't the end. Definitely not. Darkest had a whole chip to eat.

The three of you stared at the red triangle that was in Darkest's hand.

You leaned over him while Filly peeped from behind you, hands on your shoulders as if "hiding" from the ghost chip.

"Can I- uh-"

"Say some last words?" You tried to guess Darkest's sentence.

"No."

Filly chuckled in your ear.

"I was gonna say can I have some milk?"

"He needs some milk." You called out, turning around to Filly, repeating the meme, feeling embarrassed straight away.

After another 15 minutes of fussing around over Darkest, he finally took a bite.

"How is it?" You ask almost instantly after he put it in his mouth (the chip, don’t be so dirty minded).

"Is it spicy?" Filly quizzed, still hiding behind you.

"How hot is it?"

"Does it hu-"

"Oh my god can you people wait!" He exclaimed, focusing on his chewing.

"Ah, oh my gohd-" He stuck his tongue out, now struggling to chew.

"You have to chew ten times blud. Otherwise it don't count!" Filly called him out.

"Nah, nah I can't," Darkest let out a shaky breathe before covering his mouth, getting up and aggressively pushing past the two of you, running for the sink.

"Oh my god-" You and Filly laughed at the series of spitting, finding it hilarious.

"Milk! MILK!" Darkest yelled. You grabbed the milk and shoved it into his hands, watching with both curiosity and horror as a sweaty Darkest finished half the bottle in seconds.

"I'm gonna be sick," he panted, wiping his mouth.

"Nasty." Filly commented from beside you.

"You didn't even like have any." You said in disappointment.

"Didn't have any!?" Darkest's voice went high pitched as he stared at you and Filly in disbelief "My mouth started melting just from smelling it!"

Filly hid his face in your arm as he tried to suppress his laughter from how funny this whole situation was: Darkest looking half-alive, while you and Filly witnessed his struggle and also mercilessly judging him.

20 minutes later you filmed the outtro, singed out and finished filming, Darkest's tongue still swollen and barely moving. (legend says it's swollen till this day)

[idollete]

juju do tumblr lembrei de um smut que eu já li em que o fulano lá falou com a leitora que ele não gozaria de jeito nenhum com dry humping e ela prova o contrário pra ele e isso me fez pensar muitos pensamentos aqui 💭💭💭

pensei como seria com os meninos bem final de noite entrar no assunto: impossível gozar com boquete em menos de um minuto ou com dry humping. por favor, hable um pouco sobre a nossa loba provando eles o contrário 🎤🎤

é ÓBVIO que o pipe bateria muito na tecla de que isso é impossível de qualquer um desses dois acontecerem. diz que nem a mulher mais experiente do mundo consegue fazer isso, que é papo de só rolar com quem tem ejaculação precoce e o caralho a quatro. e pra ele é questão de honra o cara não gozar rápido, ele bate no peito pra dizer que nunca fez isso e que nunca faria, "nunca, impossível, amor, nem no meu dia mais tesudo". e ele te provoca sobre isso, percebe que você está irredutível em sua opinião, "e nem você conseguiria me fazer gozar tão rápido assim, pode ser gostosa desse jeito, mas não consegue, nena". é claro que você se sente AFRONTADA e DESAFIADA! por isso, que nem diz nada, só monta abruptamente no colo dele – e ele até se assusta na hora – e não perde tempo, ataca o pescoço branquinho pra deixar tudo vermelho, dá aquele beijo que chega a ser obsceno pra quem vê de fora, engancha as coxas ao redor dele e começa a se esfregar bem devagarinho a princípio, pra torturar mesmo. e se ele tenta te tocar você dá um tapa na mão dele, "não, não vai me tocar, não tá merecendo" e ele adora isso, tá? ele adora quando você fica mandona. não é só pelo dry humping que ele goza rápido, por conseguir sentir a sua calcinha ensopada na bermuda fina dele, não. é por toda sacanagem que você sussurra no pé do ouvido dele, como tá sentindo ele duro, prontinho pra te foder, "tá querendo me encher de porra, não tá? eu que sei que tá. tá pensando em como o seu pau me deixa cheinha. em como eu te aperto quando tô gozando", ele nem percebe quando começa a ficar mais desesperado, o rosto avermelhado e a cabeça tombada pra trás, faminto por você, chamando o seu nome, te pedindo "por favor, nena, me deixa te comer" e goza quando você diz que "não, hoje quem vai te dar sou eu, felipe". ele provavelmente tava tão 😵‍💫😵 que até assusta quando sente a bermuda melando, arregala os olhos e encara o local em que vocês se tocam como se não acreditasse, vai levar a mão até o próprio pau e voltar com os dedos cheios de porra. enlouquece quando você põe os dedinhos na boca, limpando tudo, "eu consigo tudo que eu quero quando o assunto é você e o seu pau, garoto".

com o simón já é mais como um papo casual mesmo, vocês são amigos (tão coloridos quanto as calças que o restart usava) e provavelmente estavam conversando sobre coisas inusitadas que já aconteceram na hora h e quando você comenta de um ex-rolo que gozou super rápido com um boquete teu. "tá bom, boca sagrada", super sarcástico ele vai dizer que é o maior caô que você já contou pra ele, "você mamou o cara e ele gozou em um minuto? para com isso". e por mais que vocês já tenham se pegado aqui e ali, nunca foram para as vias de fato mesmo, no máximo uma mão amiga. não dá pra negar que ele ficou intrigado com isso, tho. por isso, ele provoca. faz pirraça de moleque mesmo, até te irritar e te ter ajoelhada no chão da sala, mandando ele abaixar as calças. ele, que nem esperava tanta coisa assim, fica vidrado no jeito que a sua língua trabalha no pau dele, em como você o engole por completo, o barulhinho do engasgo, seus lábios ao redor. ele nem consegue descrever o que você tá fazendo com a boca naquele momento, porque é algo que ele nunca viu ou sentiu antes. "puta que p-", o palavrão morre no meio do caminho, ele não consegue completar, quando vê já tá enchendo a sua boquinha de porra e nem conseguiu avisar. você, formada na arte do oral, só levanta e limpa o cantinho da boca, dá de ombros, fingindo costume, e o simón só consegue ficar prostrado no sofá, sem reação por minutos. quando ele se recupera, a primeira coisa que diz é "tem como você fazer isso de novo qualquer dia desses?!".

o jerónimo é em um contexto onde ele está se gabando por todas as vezes que fez uma mulher gozar na velocidade da luz (palavras dele) muitas vezes. é verdade? é. mas ele aumenta um pouquinho também. você, formada na universidade das lobas de wall street™ (sério eu amo vocês por terem inventado essa pérola), pergunta muito casual, "e você? quantas mulheres já te fizeram gozar rápido também?". juro, o jerónimo é capaz até de se sentir ofendido com uma pergunta dessas. garante que ele nunca conseguiria gozar só de ter uma mulher se esfregando nele, nem se fosse a mais gostosa do mundo (que na opinião dele é você mwah) fazendo isso. você é quem propõe o desafio, mas ele banca. e ainda tem a pachorra de botar marra, "não, bebê, sem roupas. já sei que você não vai conseguir, então, o mínimo que posso fazer é te dar uma colher de chá". só que ele não move uma palha pra te ajudar, se escora na cabeceira da cama, abre os braços como quem diz sou todo seu e só te espera agir. o olhar que ele te dá é quase o suficiente para te fazer derreter ali no colo dele. quase. mesmo assim, você faz o que tem que fazer. começa provocando, beija o pescoço dele, morde, lambe, fica nesse joguinho até que ele esteja duro, "espero que não seja só com isso que você pretende me fazer gozar...", é claro que ele vai te encher o saco, ser um metido pretensioso, não sossega nem quando você o manda calar a boca. não, o jerónimo só para quando sente você melando todo o pau dele. joga uma provaçãozinha barata aqui e ali, te acusa de ser putinha demais, tão molhada assim só de se esfregar nele, mas os seus movimentos, os arranhões nas costas e as putarias sussurradas são demais pra ele. porque você faz o jerónimo fantasiar em meter em ti, diz que tá prontinha para recebê-lo, pra ficar cheia mesmo, e é pra isso que ele goza, pra vontade de se afundar em você, bruto, primitivo, te quer feito bonequinha na mão dele, mas é ele quem se derrete nos seus braços. a mente tá quase em um apagão, não consegue assimilar o que aconteceu, o pensamento ainda preso em todos aqueles cenários. o jerónimo não perde tempo, o fato de você ter feito com que ele gozasse daquele jeito é estímulo pra ele fazer o mesmo contigo. e no mesmo segundo (porque ele tem um pique fora do comum), você já está deitada na cama com a boca dele te devorando.

o único que eu penso que não ficaria com a masculinidade ferida com a sua sugestão é o matías. ele pode até achar que não é possível gozar com um minuto de mamada, mas vai discordar da sua capacidade de fazer isso só por implicância mesmo. bota a maior banca pra te dizer que "cê nem sabia mamar direito quando a gente se conheceu, eu que te ensinei, daí cê virou minha cadelinha", então, é muito natural que no meio de uma tarde de uma terça-feira você acabe ajoelhada na sala enquanto o matías aperta um. é muito despretensioso o jeito que ele se coloca, as pernas abertas, a cabeça tombada enquanto bafora pra cima, quase como se não estivesse interessado. mas ele está muito interessado. você conhece o corpo desse garoto como a palma da sua mão, por isso que não poupa a saliva quando o envolve até as bolas, babando tudo, faminta. ele até se entala quando sente a cabecinha bater bem no fundo da sua garganta, é quando retesa no sofá, põe a mão nos seus cabelos, tira na mesma hora, perdido, não sabe nem o que fazer. ele vira uma bagunça de palavrões, o baseado largado em algum canto, o rostinho contorcido em puro prazer, cenho franzido e os lábios entreabertos. sente sua língua serpeteando por toda a extensão e as mãos apertando as bolas, são tantos estímulos que ele acaba gozando rápido, sim! a respiração ofegante entrega o quão afetado ele está naquele momento e tudo que você faz é dar um sorrisinho vitorioso, limpar o cantinho da boca e pegar o baseado, sem tirar a expressão convencida da cara, porque, afinal, você de fato aprendeu com o melhor.

[gothicwidowsworld]

Cold M.S

The late January Swedish sun had set, causing the already chilled daytime temperatures to plummet further. Despite January being cold in Switzerland, Y/N still hadn’t fully prepared herself for Pite Havsbad, the y/h/c girl found solace in the hotel's shower, the familiar scent of jasmine and patchouli slowly defrosting her aching joints. Once dried the oversized Race of Champions snow + ice dark blue hoodie Y/N had stolen from Mick added another layer of warmth. It smelled of him and It had become a welcomed temporary addition to her traveling wardrobe.

“Mick, are you ok?” the girl asked in concern, her e/y/c eyes falling on the unusually quiet German. Closing the bathroom door behind her Y/N couldn’t help but frown at the lack of response, she’d expected a tired hum in reply at the very least like most race weekends, but instead the young driver just nodded sniffling slightly “Think I’m getting a cold.” Mick added slowly, attempting to clear his throat when he realised how congested he sounded.

Shuffling closer to the silent man Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Mick’s forehead. He had no obvious signs of a  temperature but they couldn’t risk him deteriorating overnight especially with Mick proving the non-believers wrong by competing so well. Team Deutschland’s prowess had reassured Mick that he was good at racing. It was clear to the young couple that the German was still struggling with the loss of his Formula One seat, the position of reserve Driver for Mercedes doing nothing to stop the rumors that Mick was abusing his Father’s status in the racing community. Some people still thought Mick owed his entire career to sharing a last name with the legendary Michael Schumacher. The fact the young Driver had won races and championships on his own sheer ability seemingly irrelevant. 

“No temperature, but you sound like you're coming down with something.” the y/h/c woman agreed, shooting the driver a pitiful smile. Groaning in response Mick grumbled burrowing his head against the pillow, it was just his luck. “Right hot shower to try and help steam clear your sinuses, drink some water and I know you hate it but Tiger balm.” Y/N listed quickly hoping her authoritative tone would get Mick to ignore the last suggestion. Getting up to search one of the suitcases for the incriminating herbal balm, Y/N paused sensing the German was yet to move. “What?” the y/h/c young woman asked, turning back to face the man. He still looked slightly peaky, but this time a dopey smile was sat on his face. 

“You're turning into a race mum” the German Driver exclaimed in admiration, watching his girlfriend who’d returned to the task in hand. Mick couldn’t help but love when Y/N was protective of him, even if it was over something as simple as him getting sick. She’d accepted the hectic racing lifestyle and all the things that came with it, he could never thank her enough for that. 

“What?! No I’m not?” the y/s/c girl mumbled defensively, walking back towards the bed, placing the pot of tiger balm on the bedside table distracting herself from Mick’s denby orbs. “You so are Schatz. Look at you all concerned over my health.” Mick replied in a teasing sing-song tone. “All this concern over little old me.” the German added a throaty chuckle erupting from his chest. Scoffing Y/N pulled a face “What do you mean over “little old you.” You're nothing special Schumacher. I thought I'd go and check on some of the other drivers this evening… who knows maybe Felipe’s coming down with a cold too… after all the temperature difference between here and Brazil….” the girl trailed off taking a sharp breath. “He didn't even have a snow jacket until the other day the poor guy.” Y/N added in faux serious.  

“No… I’m not sharing.” the German explained playing along, gently wrapping his pale arms around the girls waist before falling back against the headboard dragging Y/N with him who squealed aloud in surprise. “Spoil sport!” Y/N mumbled, placing a kiss just below the Driver’s ear, it being the only piece of skin accessible in her comfortable position tucked under his chin. “Still need to try and clear those sinuses though Micky.” the y/h/c girl added her mind still on the mission of trying to not let the youngest Schumacher get sick , gently removing herself from the German’s comforting hold. 

Inspired by Will Buxton sharing the fact Mick had a cold today at ROC

[tinta-y-cometas]

Nunca te supere, en realidad solo te estoy olvidando y me acostumbro a estar sin ti.

- Felipe H.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 2

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; gun violence, gang violence, offensive terminology for gang members and daryl, salty language

Chapter 2 - The Deal

The kid led them to a warehouse further into the city, and Iris was fidgeting with her knives. They waited at a wall further outside the building, a broken window between them and their friend. The bandana was back over her face, the bag of guns slung over T-Dog's shoulder. Rick rattled a shotgun shell next to his ear before loading it into the gun.

The group of warehouses was old enough to be made of brick and mortar, broken windows and doorframes unaccompanied by a roof. All except for the main building at the back, where the rest of the gang was presumably waiting. The kid wasn't smart enough to set them up, hopefully.

"You sure you're up for this?" Rick asked T-Dog.

"Yeah." He assured. Daryl gripped his crossbow tightly, keeping an eye on the kid as Iris peered through the broken barred window to the gate on the other side. Wasn't anything to write home about, but looks could be deceiving. 

"One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know." Daryl grunted.

"G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know." The kid retorted.

"G?" Rick asked.

"Guillermo. He's the man here."

"Okay then." Rick continued, cocking the gun. "Let's go see Guillermo." He gestured for Iris to go first and she scoffed, ducking through the bars and wire fence. T-Dog took up a sniper position on the wall to give them an edge. Rick pushed the kid forward and they followed him to the gate.

They slid open with a loud creak, a group of guards standing in the doorway. One man stepped forward, a cross chain hanging from his neck. He was shorter than the kid, and young. Didn't look like much of a threat, but there were more Iris couldn't see. She gripped the handle of her knife tighter.

"You okay, little man?" Guillermo asked, his hands in his pockets as he regarded them carefully.

"They're gonna cut off my feet, carnal." The kid replied, twitching. Clearly he'd never been a hostage before. That being said, most days consisted of things Iris had never done before.

"Cops do that?" Guillermo asked, his scrunched brow directed at Rick.

"Not him. This redneck puto, here. He cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed it to me." The kid whined. Iris glanced between Daryl and the kid.

"Shut up." Daryl snapped.

"Hey, that's that vato right there, homes." One of the men from before stepped, or limped, forward, one hand pointing at Daryl with a very small revolver, the other firmly pressing a rag to his ass. "He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What's up, homes, huh?"

"Chill, ese, chill. Chill." Guillermo said, holding out his arms to keep him back. He levelled his gaze back at them. "This true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion." Rick countered, shotgun still pointing at Miguel. 

"That hillbilly jumps on Felipe's cousin. Beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion?" Guillermo recounted, frowning. He licked his lips. "You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment." Rick explained. "Mistakes were made. On both sides."

"Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related." He asked, nodding to Daryl.

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him."

"You got my brother in there?" Daryl asked abruptly. 

"Sorry, we're fresh out of white boys." Guillermo replied, equally as fast. "But I got Asian. You interested?"

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine." Rick said evenly. "Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me." Guillermo grunted.

"G..." Miguel protested. "Come on, man."

"My people got attacked." Guillermo continued, unfazed. "Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns?" Rick asked.

"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken." Rick replied.

"I don't think so."

"About it being yours." He continued. "It's my bag of guns." Guillermo shrugged, leaning back with a frown.

"The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" He asked. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now and I take what's mine?" Felipe cocked his tiny gun once more, Jorge flanking Guillermo from the other side. Daryl raised his crossbow, clicking echoes coming from inside as more guns found their targets, men raised pipes and crowbars.

"You could do that." Rick shrugged, turning to where T-Dog had a rifle levelled at Guillermo's face. "Or not."

"Oye!" Guillermo called, looking up to the roof of the warehouse. Two guys walked to the edge, a third wrestling between them, a soiled bag tucked over his head. They ripped the bag off, Glenn whimpering with a piece of duct tape over his mouth. "I see two options." Guillermo continued. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, we'll see which side spills more blood."

Guillermo shrugged again, raising an eyebrow at them before turning and retreating into the warehouse. Jorge and Felipe followed, the doors sliding shut. Rick put the shotgun down, sighing as Glenn and the two guards disappeared back onto the roof. Iris blew out a breath.

- "Them guns are worth more than gold." Daryl said pointedly. "Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table."

He was pacing back and forth in front of the desk Rick stood at, the bag of guns set atop it in consideration. Rick was checking them one by one under Iris' watchful eye. They'd come back to their cleared building, T-Dog watching over Miguel as they decided what to do. Guillermo was right, there were two ways this could go, and neither of them were ideal.

"You willing to give that up for that kid?" Daryl asked. Iris raised an eyebrow at him. The whole reason they were here was for their friend. Though, it seemed all he cared about was finding his hand-less brother. He still didn't trust her, that much was obvious, especially by the looks he gave her every few minutes. 

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree. But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?" T-Dog asked.

"You calling G a liar?" Miguel asked.

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl snapped, slapping the kid across the face. "You want to hold onto your teeth?"

"You willing to risk it on Guillermo's word?" Iris asked, turning back to the sheriff. Rick sighed in exasperation.

"Could be risking more than them guns. Could be your life." Daryl added, making a face at Rick. "Glenn worth that to you?"

"What life I have I owe to him." Rick answered firmly. "I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hand the guns over." Daryl concluded.

"I didn't say that." Rick reasoned. "Look, there's nothing keeping you three here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog asked, rubbing his temple.

"I'm not going anywhere without my guns." Iris replied, shaking her head. Rick looked to the three of them, nodding conclusively. T-Dog stepped forward, him and Daryl taking a shotgun each.

"Oh, come on. This is nuts!" Miguel protested, siting right back down as Daryl pointed a stern finger at him. "Just do like G says." They loaded them up, each taking an additional hand gun. Iris loaded up her 22, slinging a rifle over her back. 

With a towel tied into his mouth and hands bound, Miguel was escorted by the four of them back to the warehouse and the makeshift courtyard. Iris was trying to ignore the anxiety pulsing in her stomach.

Daryl had his gun pressing into Miguel's spine as they walked, armed and dangerous, through the gate and into the warehouse. Iris carried the bag of guns over her shoulder as they passed through the hoard of guards. Guillermo met them halfway through the warehouse, guns pointed in all directions.

"I see my guns," He mused, "but they're not all in the bag."

"That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that." Rick replied simply.

"Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese." Filipe urged. Daryl pressed the muzzle of the gun into the back of Miguel's head. "Alright? Unload on their asses, ese."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation." Guillermo said sharply.

"No, I'm pretty clear." Rick assured. He nodded to Iris, who cut the duct tape binding Miguel's wrists and shoved him forward. "You have your man. I want mine."

"I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs." Guillermo murmured. "They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?"

"No, my hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded." He stated, cocking the shotgun. It echoed as everyone around took aim, Guillermo staring down the barrel. "Okay then, we're here."

There was a pregnant pause of baited silence as they all waited for someone to make a move, to say something. They stared down one another, waiting for the triggers to be pulled. The silence was filled with a small shuffling, and a woman's voice carrying through the warehouse.

"Felipe! Felipe!" She called, tone wavering with age. Iris watched as an old woman walked through the warehouse of gangbangers with no fear.

"Abuela, go back with the others-- now." Felipe urged, keeping his gaze and gun pointed on them, though fear laced his words.

"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" Daryl chastised. Guillermo huffed, turning to her.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay?" He instructed softly. "This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr Gilbert is having trouble breathing." She pleaded, looking to her grandson and tugging on his shirt. "He needs his asthma stuff. Carlito didn't find it. He needs his medicine." Guillermo glanced nervously between them and the old woman.

"Felipe, go take care of it, okay?" He snapped. "And take your grandmother with you." Felipe took her gently, pleading with her to walk with him, but she brushed past him toward Guillermo, frowning at Rick.

"Who are those men?" She asked. "Don't you take him--"

"Ma'am--"

"Felipe is a good boy." She assured. "He has his trouble but he'll pull himself together. We need him here."

"Ma'am, I'm not here to arrest your grandson." Rick replied calmly, putting the gun down.

"Then what do you want him for?" She asked.

"He's... helping us find a missing person. A fella named Glenn." Rick answered.

"The Asian boy? He's with Mr. Gilbert. Come, come." She urged, waving him along. "I show you. He needs his medicine."

Iris hid her small smile behind her bandana as she followed Rick, Felipe and the old woman through the warehouse. Daryl and T-Dog stayed on their tail, watching the others carefully, even though Guillermo ordered to let them pass. 

The old woman held Rick's hand as she led them out of the warehouse and through a neat garden, and through the doors to another building. It was a hospice center, or a retirement home of some sort. Felipe asked his grandmother to take him to Mr. Gilbert, while the others glanced around.

There were doctor's offices and hospital beds, everything occupied by elderly people. Iris was quick to sheath her knives, following Rick into an old auditorium, tables and chairs set up for a common area. A man in a wheelchair at the back was coughing and wheezing, deeply inhaling as Felipe helped him with his inhaler. Glenn stood beside the, watching to make sure he'd be okay.

"What the hell is this?" Rick said softly.

"An asthma attack." Glenn replied worriedly. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."

"I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man." T-Dog hissed. A small bark sounded from the corner, a trio of chihuahuas sitting in a leopard print bed. 

"Could I have a word with you?" Rick asked, taking Guillermo to the side. "You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met..." He hissed, Iris' attention taken away by Felipe's grandma approaching her.

"Young lady, why do you hide your face? Do you have a scar?" She asked, gesturing to her own face.

"No." Iris replied with a small smile, pulling the bandana down to show her face.

"Oh, que linda eres." She cooed, patting Iris' face. "I should introduce you to my grandson. There are no more pretty young girls around here." Iris laughed nervously as she toddled over to Felipe, prodding him in her direction. He flushed, swatting her hand away as he continued to help Mr. Gilbert.

"So you're the girl with the guns." Glenn said, folding his arms as he walked over. Iris turned to him, nodding.

"Iris." She said, holding out her hand.

"Glenn." He replied with a slight frown, shaking it politely. Rick and Guillermo finished their little chat, the former beckoning them into a small room where Guillermo could speak to them quietly.

"What about the rest of your crew?" Rick asked, gesturing to Iris. She handed him the bag of guns, eyeing the interaction closely.

"The vatos trickle in, to check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay." Guillermo explained. "It's a good thing, too. We need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart? The worst kind. Plunderers, the kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are." Rick assured.

"How was I to know?" He defended. "My people got attacked, and you show up with Miguel hostage-- appearances."

"Guess the world changed." T-Dog mused.

"No." Guillermo disagreed. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can't even get to the bathrooms by themselves, so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that's worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here? They all look to me now. I don't even know why."

"Because they can." Rick replied honestly. He handed the shotgun to Guillermo, and began to sort the guns from the bag. 

Iris turned from the room, walking back out into the auditorium. The vatos kept an eye on her, but she walked over to the closest.

"Hey, Felipe?" She asked. He turned from the table of elderly people, frowning at her sudden appearance. Iris took a map from her coat pocket and a pencil from an abandoned crossword puzzle, circling a place on the map. "I don't know who's in charge of the runs, but just outside the city here, there's an auto shop. If you can make it, there's a van out back full of parts, more cars in the shop. Take whatever you need. No one's gonna come back for it."

"Why?" He asked, taking the map and frowning. Iris shrugged, trying to offer him a comforting smile.

"Gesture of good faith?"

[docpiplup]

Period dramas- El Mestre Que Va Prometre El Mar (The teacher who promised the sea) (2023)

7,7/10 ⭐ on IMDB

The film focuses on the life of Antoni Benaiges , a teacher from Mont-roig del Camp, in the Baix Camp, in Tarragona, Catalunya, who in 1935 was sent to the public school in Bañuelos de Bureba, a small town in the province of Burgos, Castilla la Vieja (Castilla y León). Little by little, and thanks to a pioneering and revolutionary teaching methodology for the time, he will begin to transform the lives of his students, but also that of the town, which is not always to everyone's taste.

It's based on the book of the same name by Francesc Escribano and has been adapted for the big screen by Albert Val, and its director is Patrícia Font.

To tell the story of Antoni Benaiges (Enric Auquer), the film interweaves past and present and the master's story will be known through the eyes of Ariadna (Laia Costa), a woman looking for her great-grandfather who disappeared during the Civil War.

The producers of the film wanted to emphasize the essence of this exciting story: " 'El mestre que va prometre el mar'  is a great story that has been unfairly forgotten for many years. With this film we are repairing an oblivion and at the same time valuing the work of the republican teachers and recognizing the struggle of so many people who still continue to search for their relatives buried anonymously in mass graves. An exciting and fully valid story.

Part of the technical team is made up of David Valldepérez, director of photography; Josep Rosell, art director; Dani Arregui, editor, and Natasha Arizu, composer, among other professionals.  

The film is shot for six weeks in various locations in the demarcation of Barcelona, in Mura, and in Briviesca (Burgos). It is a production of Minoria Absoluta, Lastor Media, Filmax and Mestres Films AIE. 

RTVE and TV3 participate and it has the support of the ICAA and the ICEC . Filmax is in charge of distribution to cinemas.

Length: 1 h 45 min

Premiere: November 10th 2023

Cast

Enric Auquer: Antoni Benaiges

Laia Costa: Ariadna

Luisa Gavasa: Charo

Ramón Agirre: Adult Ramón

Gael Aparicio: Carlos

Alba Hermoso: Josefina

Nicolás Calvo: Emilio

Antonio Mora: Mayor

Milo Taboada: Priest Primitivo

Jorge Da Rocha: Camilo

Eduardo Ferrés: Rodríguez

Alba Guilera: Laura

Laura Conejero: Rosa

Xavi Francés: Education inspector

David Climent: Falangist Chief

Felipe García Vélez: Adult Carlos

Elisa Crehuet: Adult Josefina

Padi Padilla: Encarna

Alicia Reyero: Ángeles

Gema Sala: Jacinta

Alía Torres: Ariadna's daughter

Carlos Troya: Bernardo Ramírez

Arnau Casanovas: Portraitist

Laura Gaja: Elvira

María Escoda: Juana

Chus Gutiérrez: Archivist

Joan Scufesis: Sergio

Cristina Murillo: Residency nurse

Sara Madrid: Hiker

Pep Linares: Falangist waiter

Albert Malla: Radio announcer

Izan Barragán: Leandro (School boy)

Didac Cano: Casimiro (School boy)

Hernán Gracia: Eulogio (School boy)

Noa Guillén: Asunción (School girl)

Ona Macía: Saturnina (School girl)

Elena Moreno: Dionisia (School girl)

Gal-La Petit: Hilaria (School girl)

Genís Lama: Falangist

[formulawrite]

NSFW ALPHABET - Felipe Drugovich

Summary: pretty self explanatory ;)

Warnings: Smut 

Notes: Felipe and a camera is my weak spot

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loves to praise you saying how good you did for him while giving sweet kisses on your face, also always keeps a towel and a water bottle next to the bed to clean you up and make sure you're hydrated.

b = body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

your butt, he loves grabbing on it when making out on the couch or spanking when taking you from behind

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

your mouth, seeing you on your knees for him, eyes watery, mouth agape and a mix of spit and his cum dropping down your lips is a glimpse of heaven

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not so secret because you notice his stares, but he loves when you don't wear too many clothes on a night out, he loves when every person in the club is looking at you with desire as you walk to the bar or the restroom, when you come back he makes sure to put you on his lap so everyone knows who gets to take you home that night

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

a little, he had a few flings in the past, but it's different with you since you've been together longest

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

all fours that he gets to watch you moan his name and grab the sheets while wiggling your ass on his dick, but he also doesn't hate missionary with your legs pushed to his shoulders, looking deep into your eyes with a hand around your throat

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he always tries a cheesy pick up line to make you laugh but as soon you pull on his hair during the kiss is 100% serious

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he trims enough not to bother

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's 0 or 100, either super romantic love making kissing every inch on your body and treating you like a goddess, or he throws you on your bed calling you the filthiest things and making you scream his name to a point that you can't barely walk after

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

you're not always together due to your own job/college and he's pretty controlled so he can keep it in his pants most of the times, he does keeps a little secret folder of dirty photos he took of you with his camera that he uses on lonely nights

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

slight chocking, nothing to rough but he loves watching the ring on his finger around your neck while fucking into you

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

the bed, where you have more space and privacy. 

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

pressing you butt against him, even if you're just standing in front of him, the vibrations you send when laughing at something or actually grinding on him makes you want to drag you out from whatever you are to the bedroom.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no embarrassing you, or degrading you (too much ;)

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving, this man is sucker for face sitting, he would kill to have you sitting and rubbing yourself on his lips while sucking on your clit, it gets him even harder if you pull on his locks and makes him even eager to look up at you and watch you come with just his tongue.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough (Felipe soca forte e ninguém me convence o contrário)

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

when he wins a race he loves a quickie inside the MP bathroom, usually he prefers taking his time with you

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

no,  you're both very private people and would hate to have anything leaked or invaded

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

call me crazy but this man has a Taurus Venus he can go all night and last quite long

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he knows you have a vibrator because you sensed a video using it while moaning his name a few times. but he likes to be the one making you feel good

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

a bit of a tease, whispering dirty things in your ear in public is one of his favorites. for people on the outside he's just being sweet boyfriend hugging you from behind, but only you can hear how much he wants to lift up your skirt and do you then and there

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

low moans against your ear telling you how good he feels inside you

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

"a little bit closer to the corner" he kept pulling you to the edge of the bed

"are you sure about this? what if someone sees it?" your nerves started to get the best of you

ever since he got his new camera he's been shooting every sight his eyes can reach. the idea of getting stills while he's going down on you came as joke that turned to reality a little to fast.

"don't worry you know i keep my pictures of you very safe, plus i really want to see how my princesa looks while i eat her pussy" you can't say no to him while he kisses your neck while rubbing his fingers between your thighs

you just nod as he stands up to start the video function of the camera, he turns to you kneeling looking up to make sure your still on board with it, you just grab his hair and open you legs further more.

he quickly take your panties off leaving you just in your bra and starts to work on you,he starts to lick your folds before giving a deep suck on your clit, you moan throwing your head back as he keeps licking where you want him most

"look at the camera for me love" he whispers against your pussy before working on it again.

the sight of your boyfriend eating you out while filming, the feel of his mouth, his eyes looking up while hooking a leg on his shoulder made you come on the spot, everything was so hot and erotic you just exploded with pleasure.

he got up to turn off the camera and turned to you with glistening lips, pulling him down to clean the mess you made.

"you did so good for me princesa, but i'm not done making you come just now yet" that's going to be a long night

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

not too thick, but long enough to hit the right place.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

again this man can go all night with maybe 2 bathroom breaks, a water bottle and maybe a cracker 

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

not that quickly, he chats a lot, you probably sleeps before him.

[sociedadnoticias]

Que no le digan… | Mario A Medina | Clara, Omar, Sandra, Lucía

Que no le digan… | Mario A Medina | Clara, Omar, Sandra, Lucía #PeriodismoParaTi #SociedadNoticias #AdelaMicha #Televisa #QueNoLeDigan @MarioA_Medina @lopezobrador_ #FAM #Clara #Omar #Sandra #Lucía @ClaraBrugadaM @OHarfuch @SandraCuevas_ @LucyMezaGzm

Interesante está siendo la lucha para contender por la jefatura de Gobierno de la ciudad de México. Por Mario A. Medina Interesante está siendo la lucha para contender por la jefatura de gobierno de la ciudad de México. Al menos encontramos dos frentes. Uno, en el que participan para ser el coordinador de Comités de Defensa de la “4t”. En el otro, como diría aquel temido cacique y gobernador…

[miracleintheandes]

The Survivors (Part 2)

check out part 1 here!

Born on December 9th 1949, Nando’s first days in the mountains were arguably more traumatic than everyone else’s. He was in a coma for three days and the others put him to sleep near the entrance of the fuselage on the first night.

Because it was the coldest spot available, the injured with a lesser chance of survival were left there. Next to him were his sister Susy and his best friend Francisco “Panchito” Abal. 

Ironically, sleeping in the cold saved Nando’s life. His head was half-buried in snow, which prevented it from swelling and hemorrhaging. He was eventually moved to a warmer spot when Diego Storm noticed his condition wasn’t that bad.

Nando woke up only to find out that his mother Eugenia had died instantly in the crash, while Panchito perished within the first 24 hours. Susy, on the other hand, was in critical condition. As soon as he woke up, Nando dedicated himself entirely to taking care of his sister, until she sadly passed away in his arms eight days after the crash, on October 21st 1972.

From then on, Nando was relentless in his determination to get himself out of the mountains. When the authorities failed to locate the wreckage in the first few days, he knew they were doomed. The others had to persuade him to wait for a rescue they were sure to come or at least for the weather conditions to improve.

With Roberto Canessa, Nando would eventually walk for 10 days and 61 kilometers (38 miles) in search of help. He never quarreled with anyone and was beloved by the other survivors for his selflessness and resilience.

Born on May 13th 1953, Gustavo was a Stella Maris alumnus and played rugby for the Old Christians. He was a first-year medical student and tended to the injured with Roberto Canessa, as well as aiding the cousins in the process of cutting the meat off the bodies.

In an early expedition with Numa Turcati and Daniel Maspons, Gustavo located some of the bodies that were sucked out of the plane when it lost its tail and wings. During said expedition, the trio had to sleep out in the open and miraculously did not freeze overnight. Upon descent, so bright was the sunlight reflected by the snow that Gustavo was left blind for a few days.

He also collected and kept the belongings of the deceased, intending to return the items to their families. When the group was rescued, he identified the human remains to the authorities and was the very last to board the helicopters.

Born on December 11th 1935, Javier was the oldest survivor. He and his wife Liliana had been invited on the trip by his cousin Francisco “Panchito” Abal, an Old Christians player and Nando Parrado’s best friend.

He suffered from severe altitude sickness, which prevented him from helping around the fuselage.

Javier and Liliana had four children and intended to celebrate their wedding anniversary in Chile. Though she survived the crash, Liliana unfortunately did not make it out of the Andes (more details to come). Javier remarried and had four more children.

He died of cancer on June 4th 2015.

Born on April 24th 1948, “Coche” Inciarte had no ties to the rugby team or the Stella Maris school, but he was invited on the trip by his best friend Gaston Costemalle, who played for the Old Christians.

He had an extremely hard time ingesting human flesh and his weight dropped from 92 kilos to 45 kilos. In the last few days of the ordeal, Coche decided that if rescue didn’t come until December 24th, he’d let himself die (he was rescued on December 23rd). He married his girlfriend Soledad eight months after that and had three kids (two daughters and a son).

A talented artist and painter, Coche unfortunately passed away on July 23rd 2023 at 75 years-old, after battling cancer for many years.

Born on August 31st 1951, Pedro traveled with his close friends Felipe Maquiarrán and Arturo Nogueira, the latter of which played for the Old Christians. Felipe died in the crash, while Arturo passed away mid-November.

Pedro had no physical injuries, but he suffered from amnesia. He could not recall the days prior to the accident, nor that he had a girlfriend waiting for him in Chile.

Unlike most of the other boys, Pedro was an introvert and a socialist. Nevertheless, he played a decisive role when the group decided to eat the bodies of the deceased. He compared it to the Holy Communion, which did wonders to convince some who were reluctant (the survivors were mostly Catholic).

Having lived in Chile, Pedro pointed out that summer in the country usually started around November 15th (the plane actually crashed in Argentina, but the boys were unaware of that). Therefore, the group decided the expeditionaries should leave on that day in search of rescue.

Born on February 17th 1951, “Moncho” was close friends with fellow survivors Bobby François and Carlitos Páez. When he boarded the plane, he realized another close friend of his was on the trip, Rafael Echavarren (who unfortunately did not survive).

Alongside Roy Harley, Javier Methol and Coche Inciarte, Moncho was one of the weakest survivors upon rescue.

Born on January 17th 1953, Roberto was a Stella Maris alumnus and one of the best players of the Old Christians. He was also a second-year medical student.

Roberto was extremely smart and took care of the injured as best as he could. He improvised hammocks for those with broken legs so they could sleep more comfortably and avoid being stepped on in the cluttered fuselage. It was also his idea to use the seat covers as blankets, which somewhat reduced the risk of hypothermia.

Stubborn and fiercely determined, his teammates called him “Muscles”, not necessarily for his physical strength. Roberto constantly quarreled with his fellow survivors, but he was respected by everyone for his capacity to solve problems.

When it came to feeding off human flesh, he was a strong proponent from the start, using his knowledge of medicine to persuade others.

In spite of his flaws, Roberto showed great bravery and strength by joining Nando Parrado in the final expedition. They walked for 10 days and 61 kilometers (38 miles) before running into a muleteer named Sergio Catalan.

Born on May 26th 1952, Roy was a Stella Maris alumnus and played for the Old Christians. He was close friends with survivors Carlitos Páez and Bobby François, as well as Diego Storm and Gustavo Nicolich (deceased).

As an engineering student, Roy had some rough knowledge of electronic equipment. In spite of his fragile mental state, he was pressured by his companions to fix the plane’s radio once the batteries were found in the tail. He did not succeed, nor was he expected to, as the radio was broken beyond repair.

He is Roberto Canessa’s brother-in-law, as their wives are sisters (Laura and Cecilia, respectively).

[blorbocedes]

Okay this is gonna be long but here are some quotes from the book:

- "Meanwhile, Lewis was very friendly and welcoming, and presumably confident enough in his status at the team that he didn't need to feel put out. At first, anyway"

- "Did he like being beaten by his Teammate? Probably not, but he's a competitor and I'm sure that like me he relished the challenge. That's why we do what we do. Personally, he was fine with me, no issues at all at this stage of the game, but you could just tell he was a little bit peeved. That thing about it being *his* team? It was right on the money. And if you ask me, he was finding ur difficult to get a handle on the fact that it was *our* team now"

- "[basically Red Bull being a party team]. Ferrari were fun then, too, and overall it was a good atmosphere in the paddock, with McLaren right in the thick of it. But like I say, I'm not sure that was to Lewis's taste. I don't think that *I* was to his taste, if I'm honest"

- "Then on the Podium there was what media called some "frosty" body language and a "muted" celebration. In fact, he came straight out and asked me about it: "Did you pass me against team orders?" He was the winner. Jesus. "No" I told him "I did not pass you against orders. I was never told not to pass you." That sent him off thinking that the team were taking my sude against his, though he bever did explain why they would want to do that [because in a 1-2 most of the team doesn't care which of them won]"(Note: He later mentions he hates when 2nd place winners are upset on the Podium cause they're basically living the dream and being a bitch about it lmao)

- "As for Lewis, I still think he was a bit freaked out by the way things at the team had changed. Again. Let's be clear about thus. He was smiley and friendly. But as everybody says about him, he's very friendly and polite and full of respect for the sport and his fellow competitors, but there's stuff going on beneath that surface - stuff you only occasionally glimpse. That scene on the Podium, for example. He can be quite unpredictable in his responses to things, gets an idea in his head and you think, /where on earth did he get that from?/ Or maybe it was simply the case that he'd had things his own way for too long."

- "We clipped and he was off into the pit wall, his race over with what they thought was broken rear suspension. 'What was he doing?' I yelled over the radio, privately wondering how Lewis would react, because like I say, he could be unpredictable that way. [More about the race] 'Mate, sorry, I didn't see you.' 'Don't worry' he said 'it's not your fault. I shouldn't have put my nose there' And that was that. Despite the fact that our collision had put him out of the face he was totally cool about it. Go figure."

- "[...] when Felipe tapped Lewis on the shoulder, made a sarcastic comment, and Lewis responded by snapping 'Don't touch me again.' /Ouch/. [Comparison to other sports] However, it did highlight a Lewis tendency, which was to let himself get rattled, and he was acquiring a bit of a reputation as a hot-head."

Okay so there's gonna be another ask, but I'm capping it here bc the next few quotes are about Lewis Twitter so it's a good cut.

Anyway I really think it's fascinating how he talks about Lewis, because while it's obviously just his opinion, compared to the drama that Jenson had with Teammates and talked about in the books as well ... Lewis just seems like a spoiled kid realising he can't always get everything. Also the fact that Jenson says that Lewis constantly assumes the worst or has like way out there theories about what happened ... obviously a lot of people were out to get Lewis but that extent? Fascinating when you think about the supposed mind games Nico played with him

Omg thank you for this! Lewis definitely used to be a hot head, and thought people and teams were out to get him. Which I don't doubt, the racism and micro aggressions as the first black driver he did face also made him see enemies where people were neutral. also his 2008 championship happened because of one overtake taking it away from Felipe, so I'm sure he wanted to prove to himself it wasn't a fluke -- and then the year at mclaren Jenson beat him. 2010's Lewis was certainly... a guy. these books, as all autobiographies ft a ghostwriter are, are Jenson's recollection of what happened so it's coloured by his perspective. Lewis is also a sore loser ahaha.

"I'm not sure I was to his taste." 🫣😵‍💫😳😳😳 go off, button

this is fascinating, thank you for sharing!!!