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cupcakeinat0r · 9 months

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Broadway Baby ch. 3

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Today is your first lesson… and we’re not talking abt the piano lesson you give Gabriella…

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, squirting, mirror sex?, p in v, losing ur V card, unprotected (wrap it n tap it pls), nipple play

Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Age gap, Soft dom! Miguel, Sub!Reader, reader is a Latina mami (written by a Latina <3), Miguel is a horny dilf (girl dinnerrr), and accurate Spanish translations <3

Word count: 5.7k

Ch. 2

Note: I do use the word ‘small’ but this is not in regard to reader’s appearance, simply a comparison to Miguel’s height :) <3

I promised y’all toe curling smut so I hope I delivered!!! Enjoy!!

That morning, you woke up earlier than normal because you wanted to make sure you showed up to Miguel’s house flawless.

You did your hair, you painted your nails, you moisturized your entire body, did your skin care regimen, and you meticulously did your makeup, hell, you even gua sha’d your face beforehand; a secret Santa gift from a year ago, never taken out of its box until now. It was your nerves to blame for your over-thorough preparation.

For your outfit, you settled on a knitted dress which hugged your body from top to just above the knees paired with a matching cropped cardigan and some close-toed heels. Cute yet professional.

On the way to Miguel’s place, you look over your little lesson planner you created the night before; something to go by as you teach Gabriella. You’ve never taught anyone in your life, let alone a child, but you were looking forward to it. You were technically helping raise the next generation of artists, and that made you feel excited about this opportunity.

Once you get to the location sent by Miguel, you look up to see a house that very much lives up to what you expected Miguel to live in. It was modern with clean and sharp edges. You were having to lean your head back it was so big, your eyes wide as you imagine the pricing on this real estate.

You take in a deep breath, ringing the doorbell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel’s morning was just as hectic.

Just like you, he wanted to make sure he looked good for you. He chose an outfit he thought you would really like. He shaved his face (even though you liked his scruff), fixed his hair, and put on the nicest cologne he owned.

He went as far as preparing a breakfast so that you had something to eat before or after your lesson with Gabriella.

Miguel, standing in the middle of his living room, looked around the house, making sure everything was presentable and clean for you.

“Gabri, casi listo (almost ready)? Your teacher’s gonna be here soon!” He calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, papa, almost done!” She calls back.

Miguel then goes to his phone when he hears a notification.

Omw!! Just got in the car!

Great 👍

And what is omw?

It means ‘On My Way’!

Oh LOL 😂 Getting

too for old this I guess👴🏾

Jajajaja ay, no pa tanto,

(Not so much) you know What they say,

32 is the new 22!

Jajaja you’re too sweet.❤️

Bueno, te veo pronto.😌

( Well, see you soon.)

See you soon!!! So excited

to meet her!!!

Miguel reads the last text with a soft smile. You truly were just the sweetest human being he’s ever witnessed. Sometimes, he just wanted to cup your face and smother you in kisses. Or smother his face between those plush thighs of yours. Either way, he’d be a happy man.

He’ll be able to give into those fantasies. Soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stand on his doorstep, waiting after you rung the doorbell. Your heart drops as you hear the door unlocking.

It’s just Miguel. The man of your dreams, but he’s just a guy. Chill out.

When the door opens, there he is, standing 6 foot 9 inches, a beautiful latin man, clean shaven, wearing a compression shirt, gray sweats, some house slippers, and smells of teakwood and vanilla. He opens the door wide open, giving you his signature smile. “Morning, beautiful. Ven, ven.” (Come in, come in) he says, ushering you inside his home.

You always forget how actually beautiful he is until you see him in person. You swallow down hard as you look up at him and offer him a tight smile as you step inside. You can already feel your cunt flutter and a sticky warmth form in your underwear at just the sight of him as you step inside, stealing a glance at his ripped body underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. And those sweats were a size too small on him. Damn him.

Miguel was no better. When he opened that door and saw you, smaller than him and wearing a dress that accentuated your waist and ass, cleavage teasing him through the neckline and cardigan, his breath hitched. He had to hide his arousal with a smile, but goddamn, you looked delicious. If you weren’t here to teach his daughter how to play piano on her 7th birthday, he would’ve pulled you inside the house, bunched your dress above your tits, thrown you onto the sofa and fucked you missionary style until you were a panting mess.

“So How was the ride here, sweetie? Were you comfortable? Can I get you anything to drink? Agua, jugo de china…?” (Water, orange juice) He starts the conversation as you both step into the living room, his hand on the small of your back.

You chuckle at Miguel’s thoughtful questioning. “Don’t worry, it was very nice, and thank you so much for doing that, you didn’t need to!”

“Oh, please, I wasn’t gonna let you pay for an Uber to my house. And the subway was out of the question. Pretty girls like you don’t belong there, anyway.” He smirks, which makes you blush in return. “Muchas gracias, Miguel. I may actually do that glass of water, please.” As soon as you ask for it, Miguel is already in the kitchen fixing you the drink.

“Here you go, sweetie. I also made some breakfast, so please, help yourself. ” You blush at the name, taking the glass from him. “Thank you, this all looks so delicious! I’ll probably eat after the lesson. You look comfy, by the way!” You compliment Miguel before taking a sip. He smiles, looking down at his outfit before responding, “You could say that. I’m working from home, so no suit today. As for you, you look beautiful, but that’s old news.” He flirts before taking a sip of his own glass of water. You smile as your gaze retreats to the cup in your hands, “Oh, stop it, you’re too much.”

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” He says with a shrug and his brows furrowed. You can practically feel his eyes grazing over your body. Miguel loves the way you blush at his advances; practically lives off of it, your cute little bashful self. You look up to give him a smile, looking to change the subject or else you’ll become the color of a tomato.

“So where’s the birthday girl?” You set the glass down on the counter top, Miguel leaning against it on the other side. “She should be coming down any minute now. She’s been going through the roof about these lessons, but she doesn’t know that you’re teaching them, so you’ll be the surprise.” Your mouth drops in awe, your hand going up to touch your chest, “aw, oh my goodness, that just made me even more excited! Ugh, I’m a huge fan of hers already. ” Your smile is wide enough that your dimples become visible, Miguel taking note of them and wondering how you can be so hot and adorable at the same time. Miguel starts to lean closer toward you over the counter.

“Well, she’s a huge fan of yours,” Miguel says, getting even closer to you as he props himself on his elbows, his muscles on full display as he looks at you with a flirtatious gaze, “and I don’t blame her.” His words make your smile fall slightly as your eyes go down to those tempting lips, your insides crying for you to just lean over and kiss them. Miguel’s eyes follow yours, something primal unleashing in him when he sees your lips part. Then you hear the patter of small feet rushing down the stairs, the two of you looking at Gabriella as she comes down.

“Papa, is she here yet-“, her face drops when she sees you in the kitchen. Her idol was in her home. “Feliz cumpleaños, Gabriella!” (Happy Bday) You say, reaching your arms out when you see run up to you. She hugs you, her cheek pressed against your stomach as she squeals, then she looks up, “You’re gonna be my teacher?!” “That’s right, and we’re gonna have so much fun!” Your response makes her jump with joy. “This is the best birthday ever!!!”

Miguel looks at the two of you with a grin before speaking, “She’s gonna teach you piano today, mija, so listen carefully and follow her instructions, you hear me?” “Yes, papa! C’mon, papa got me a big piano yesterday for us to use!” She says, your hand in hers as she leads you through the house and into a smaller room. You shoot Miguel a giddy smile before being pulled away by the seven old.

“Do you have a piano like this?” She exclaims, sitting up on the bench of the piano. You place the lesson planner on a nearby table and sit next to her. “Oh, well, I’ve never actually had my own piano. I always played with pianos that belonged to my teachers or the theater.” You respond.

“Oh. You can play with mine anytime you want, then!” She says with a toothy smile. You giggle at her adorable generosity in return, “Thank you, mamita, I appreciate it.” Miguel leans against the doorframe watching you two talk to each other a little more and he’s living for how happy Gabriella is to be with you. Sure, she was daddy’s girl, and loved him to death as any spoiled little girl would, but he’s never seen her like this. She was usually so shy with people but with you, Gabriella was an open book.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two ladies to it, then. If you need me, I’ll be in the study.” He says, closing the glass door behind him.

“Okay, ready?” “Ready!” Gabriella says, and with that, the lesson had started. “Tell me everything you know about the Piano, mama.”

“Ummm…”, her eyes travel across the black and white keys. “In music class, Mrs. Smith showed us how to read music!” You perk up in surprise. “Awesome! So, let’s see… if I pressed this key, do you know what letter this is?” You say, pressing the middle white key. “Oh! Um, um, that’s a… C?” “Yes! Oh my goodness, you’re such a smart girl! Do you know what this one is?” “Uh… G!” “Right again!” You joyfully laugh at your young pupil’s intelligence.

“I only know these ones though, I dunno the black ones.” She says, discouraged. “Oh, don’t you worry, mamita, I’ll show you. By the end of today, you’ll be a pro at these black keys! Watch…”, then you use your right hand, gently pressing the keys to explain to her their assigned letters. Miguel is able to take a peek into the piano room from his study, occasionally peering over his computer with a smile. You were the cutest lil teacher for his daughter.

He wasn’t getting any work done, too busy admiring your patience and gentleness with Gabriella anytime she wasn’t able to get something right. You were so encouraging and uplifting, and that’s exactly what Gabri needs. It’s what Miguel was looking for in a partner. You were beautiful. You were kind. You were intelligent and strong. All those things were bonuses, but this right here, what you were doing in that piano room, was what set you apart. This wasn’t just physical attraction anymore. He was falling deeply for you. He needed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was about 15 minutes left in your hour lesson with Gabri when she asks, “May I use the restroom?”

“Of course, mama, you don’t ever need to ask that! I’ll be right here waiting.” You say warmly as she hops off the bench and leaves. You’re left alone with the most beautiful piano sitting in front of you, and your hands itch to play on it. Not able to fight back the urge, you begin to play some Debussy.

Nose deep in his work, Miguel’s head bobs up from the sea of papers in front of him when he hears the melody. The corners of his mouth lift, and he walks toward the piano room. He sees you playing through the open door, watching as you get lost in the music. Still playing, you take a quick glance to the side, feeling as though someone was at the entrance of the room, finding that you were right. You stop playing and pat at the bit of open bench next to you.

“Wanna learn?” You wholesomely prompt, but he chuckles, shaking his head in apprehension. “I’d rather not, I wouldn’t understand a single thing.” “Ay, no seas asi (don’t be like that). C’mon, let me show you at least a little bit! Please?” You plead, tilting your head to the side as you persuade Miguel, and it works. With a sigh, he sat down on the bench, straddling it so that he’s facing you.

You immediately regret the decision when you can feel his large body just mere inches from your much smaller stature. You clear your throat, “The song I was playing just now was in the key of D flat Major, meaning I only press these keys…” you start explaining the music to Miguel, but he’s completely lost in how your lips move, the way your voice sounds like honey, how your eyes look from the piano and back up to him. You begin to crack under his intense gaze.

He isn’t getting a single word of this.

You knew he wasn’t really listening, but you kept talking about the song anyway, scared of giving into his seductive look. He was so close to you right now. He was all up in your business. You were quivering from the tension in the air, your only refuge being all 88 of the keys in front of you. Due to your nervousness, your voice had grown softer, slightly wavering. You swallow down before rambling on, “and, um, this here is a… is a harmonic scale…and, uh….”

Miguel sees your hand tremble as it hovers over the piano. He then grabs it lovingly. You stop talking, your nerves easing from the warmth of his hand. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand reassuringly, his hand completely engulfing yours. With the palm of his hand against the back of yours, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing it up to his face.

“So soft…”

he whispers, breathing in your scent as he places a kiss on the palm of your hand, making a small smack when he pulls away. “So sweet…” He then slowly brings his mouth to your neck, your skin prickling with every brush of his breath. “Miguel…” you murmur when you feel his lips and tongue suck at the flesh of your neck, the low vibrations of his voice against your skin sending shivers down your body.

He moves up to the shell of your ear, whispering with strain, as if he’s been holding this back for far too long, “You drive me crazy, you know that? sabes cuanto te necesito?” (you know how much I need you?). He puts his head back into the crook of your neck, planting small kisses there and his hands wrapping around your waist, squeezing the clothed flesh. As Miguel’s touches become fervid, you let out a small moan, trying to use your hands to stop him, “ay, M-Miguel, no puedo (I can’t), what if Gabriella-“

“por favor, cariño, (please, sweetie) I can’t… Mm… I can’t wait…Mngh… any longer, bebe…(baby)” he begs in between kisses that make their way up your jaw and to your cheek. He completely wraps his ginormous arms around you, his fragile doll, caged by his burly build.

“I need you so badly, sweetheart.” He coos breathlessly, brows knitted as he pouts like a lovesick puppy.

When he’s about to kiss you on your lips, he stops to drink in your face. Your lips pouted and parted. His eyes, the color of sweet, dark wine, looking down at them, imagining how soft they’ll feel in about a second… or how they would feel wrapped around his massive dick. One of his hands cups your face, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you in even closer to press against his thick, toned body. You look up at him with those same big, round, doe eyes; that same innocent look that never fails to make his dick throb. You don’t look down at it (as much as you wanted to, but you were occupied by his now even more plump and wet lips), but you can feel it against the side of your thigh… and he’s big.

“So pretty for me…,” his thumb swipes at your bottom lip, “You’re so good… so fucking perfect… fuck, c’mere-“ he hungrily smashes his face against yours, lips entangled, his tongue probing at your entrance before you eagerly let him in. You snake your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. What began as a sweet, tender kiss quickly turns into a heated one, the room filled with the smack of y’all’s lips and soft sighs of pleasure. His hold on you tightens with each pleasured whimper you send into his mouth, his own growls and tongue going down your throat and igniting the heat between your legs. You feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek leave, returning on your inner thigh after he lifts your dress, his hand going up higher and higher…

Your make-out session was cut short by the sound of a distant sink being turned on. Must’ve been Gabriella washing her hands, which means she would be walking back in here any second now.

You both pulled away hurriedly, having to catch y’all’s breaths and fix yourselves. Miguel stood up from the bench, a shit eating grin on his face as he looked at how hot and bothered you became. “perdón, hermosa (sorry, beautiful), just can’t control myself around you,” he leans down to catch you in one last, tongue-eating kiss, pulling back with a big pop!, “Let me know when you two are done, yea?” He whispers again, and you nod at him, your eyes still hooded and lips bruised from his kisses. After he kisses your forehead, you watch him leave the room at the same time Gabriella comes in.

“I’m back!… Are you ok, Miss. y/n?” She says, her cute face contorted in genuine concern.

“Oh! Uh,” you say, fixing your hair and finally catching your breath, ”I’m fine, mamita! Never been better… So where were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aww, do you have to leave now?” Gabriella pouts. You brush a strand of hair behind her ear when you bend over to face her, the three of you standing in the living room near the front door.

“I’m sorry, mama, but I have to. We’ll have another lesson tomorrow!” You say softly, trying to make her feel better.

“Yea, but… but… I like being with you a lot.” You could’ve exploded from the cuteness overload. You felt so bad for leaving her, especially on her birthday.

“Say what… I have to be in the theater in a couple hours to get to my curtain call, however… I coulddd give a certain birthday girl a private tour of the stage…” you tap your chin and act mysterious.

Gabriella gasps, her mouth agape, “You can do that?!” You laugh at her shocked expression. “If your papa is okay with it?” You say, looking up at Miguel. “That would be great. What do we say, Gabri?” “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!” She hugs you, you embracing her tiny form. “You’re so very welcome, mama, I’ll see you tonight then, okay?” You cup her face when she looks up at you.

“Okay! I’m gonna go pick my outfit! I’m so excited! I can’t believe I get to see the show again!” She says, pulling away and running up the stairs. You stand back up, smiling at Miguel. Miguel looks at the top of the stairs to wait for Gabriella to be in her room until he walks up to you, placing his hands on your hips. “That was very generous of you, sweetie, but you’re already doing so much for her by giving her these lessons.” He says, his hand under your chin, his thumb caressing it.

“Well, the lessons are your birthday present to her, so this is my present to her.” You say cheerily. “Thank you for the food, by the way, it was all delicious. Not as good as my cooking, pero… casi casi (but almost),” you say half jokingly. Miguel lets out a chuckle, “Oh, I’m taking that as a challenge. I’ll have to try it to believe it.”

“Someday you will.” “I look forward to it, hermosa,” he winks at you as he opens the door. “See you later then, cariño (honey).”

He’s confused as he watches you give him a small wave and take one step outside, but you’re stopped when he grabs your hand, turning you back toward him.

“You didn’t think you were leaving without a goodbye kiss, did you?” He pulls you back into him, wrapping his arms around you once more and placing his lips on yours. This one was much more sweet and tender compared to the ones shared in the piano room. Fireworks went off in your head, along with the smell of his after shave still lingering. “There. Now you can go.” You giggle as he gives your butt a light squeeze, “See you later, Miguel.”

Miguel watches with gratification as you walk into the car he had ordered for you. Now he was the one who couldn’t get his eyes off your ass. You sit in the car practically glowing from what had just happened.

That wasn’t too bad for your first kiss. Well, kisses, to be exact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The show went as programmed, another successful performance for the books. Once you entered your dressing room, you found a gigantic bouquet of flowers and a box.

Hmm, I Wonder who sent them.

In the middle of appreciating the flowers, you hear a knock on your door.

“Just a second!” You fix yourself in the mirror suspecting who it was, patting a napkin on your face as to take off any performance sweat and reapplying perfume.

You go to open the door to find Miguel, “Good Evening, Mr. O’Hara.” “Good evening, y/n. Mind if I come in for a moment?” You two play the parts of patron and cast member convincingly, holding back mischievous smiles as other crew and cast members hurry by for the resetting of the stage and whatnot.

Miguel steps in, and you close the door behind him. While you’re locking the door, he grabs you by the waist, you squeal in surprise.

“You did so good up there, baby,” he wraps his arms around you, your back against his torso, smothering you in kisses anywhere he could get his lips on, “eres tan chula,” smack!, “tan talentosa,” smack!, “Mm, y tan deliciosa”, smack! You break out into a fit of giggles. (So pretty, so talented, and so delicious)

You reach your hands up to his face, running your fingers through his silver fox hair, “gracias… y Gabriella?” (Thank you, and Gabriella?).

“She’s with her grandmother. I invited her to come with us since it’s Gabi’s birthday. You like your present?” He motions at the box. “Oh! I didn’t even get a chance to open it!” He frees you from his grasp to let you grab the box, and you open it. Your mouth drops.

“Miguel, this is…” your face goes from surprise to worry, ”ay dios mio, (oh my god) how much was-“ “Shh, don’t worry about that, princesa. Ven, (come) lemme put it on you.” You give him a scowl before turning around and letting him put it on.

You had to admit, this diamond necklace did look gorgeous on you. You tried to not think about what quadruple-digit number he spent getting you this. You both stand in front of the vanity mirror.

“Look how pretty my girl is,” his voice drips with seduction, his hands falling down your body. His lips find your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. You get goosebumps from the way he calls you ‘my girl’. You sigh as his lips work their magic. He sits down on the velvety stool behind him, pulling you down with him, “Don’t even lift a muscle, sweetheart, just sit there n look pretty for me.”

You let out a small yelp when he lifts your legs, using his own to spread them. You can feel himself harden against your lower back, the sensation instantly making you wet. One of his hands steadies you on his lap, the other one palming your now pulsating cunt, clothed by a pair of booty shorts and fishnets. His hand snakes into them, finding your wet and gushy pussy. He finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tiny circles on it. You bite your lip, holding back moans. “Aw, mi nena tan chula is so sensitive” (my pretty girl), Desperate for his touch, you grind against his hand, your mouth falling open and hands squeezing onto his thick thighs for dear life. “Coño, mami… so ready for me, aren’t you? Hm? Toda mojada para mi? (All wet for me?)”, Miguel slides the shorts down your legs, and using both hands, he rips a hole in the fishnets so that he can have a first-class view of your 5-star pussy, the mirror showing a leak of arousal flowing down your entrance and onto his pants, causing you to whine.

“Awww fuck, it’s even prettier than I thought.” He breathlessly growls in your ear, his middle and ring finger finding your clit again.

“Ay, M-Miguel, yes, Ungh~ feel s- s’good,” you try to form a sentence, but it’s difficult with the way Miguel’s calloused, thick fingers rub against your womanhood, his other hand playing with your nipple. He gently plays with the erected nipple between his index and thumb, occasionally pulling it and rubbing it, sending yummy jolts down to your pussy.

He then inserts the two fingers, feeling around your walls and going in and out, “Gotta get my pretty girl ready for my cock, hm? Don’t wanna hurt her, oh nooo.” He coos, kissing his teeth with a ‘tsk tsk tsk’.

Miguel sees your hips stuttering against his fingers, taking that you’re close. His dick is already leaking from how much your hips were moving against it. There’s no doubt there’s a wet spot on his pants. He quickens his speed, your juices beginning to squirt out from your drenched cunt, droplets landing on the mirror before you.

“Ay, Miguel! Oh my god!” You whine out, head falling back on his shoulder. Miguel lets out a sigh as you squirt out your climax, rubbing your clit side to side as it sprays. Once you finish, he displays his hand in front of you, which glistens under the vanity lights, “mira mami, look what a mess you made… fuck.” (Look, mami)

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Aw, sweet heart, you’re so cute… no necesitas disculparte (no need to apologize), I love that you can do that,” he purrs into your ear as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them, tasting them.

“Mm, Sabes tan dulce…” (you taste so sweet).

He gently picks you up and sits you on the vanity. As much as he wanted to go to town on your pussy and feast until he drank up every drop, his dick was basically hurting, that’s how much it ached to be inside you.

Your gaze follows the sound of a zip! And your eyes widen at the sight. Miguel bunches his briefs right under his heavy balls, a long, thick, angry cock springing against his happy trail. He sees your obvious concern, bringing a hand to your face.

“Everything alright?” He looks at you, brows knitted together and his voice is soft.

“Yes, it’s just… this is my first time.” You nervously chuckle.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, “please know it’s okay to not be ready. I want you to be comfortable.” He places a kiss on your forehead. You look up at him, using those doe eyes of yours on him, “Please, Miguel… I want it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again. “Yes, Miguel…” you say his name sensually, your hands traveling down his chest, down to his erect cock, giving it a stroke, your thumb teasingly swirling the precum on his tip.

“I need it.”

Miguel bites his lip, jaw clenching from the softness of your hands against his pulsing length, his auburn eyes growing hungry.

“I’ll go slow, honey. If it hurts too much, just let me know, m’kay? ” You give him a soft smile, and you both kiss tenderly. He takes a second to take your shirt off, ogling at your perfect tits. You then pout and tug at his shirt, which he follows along, revealing his god-like body. You didn’t care that you drooled. He then looks down, your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist, leveling himself to your entrance. Holding it in his hand, he slaps his fat cock against your pussy a couple times, the wet noises making both of you even more turned on. Your mouth falls open again, his plump tip spreading your lips with ease. Miguel hisses as he goes in deeper, trying his absolute best to go slow and not ram you right then and there. Your pussy tightens around him, feeling his veins pulsate against your walls.

“Fffuck, so tight, baby…o-oh fuck-“ Miguel bottoms out, staying there for a second, allowing you to adjust. The pain was short, quickly turning to pleasure as he slowly began a rhythm. He makes love to you slowly and deeply, each thrust hitting the deepest part of you. “Taking me so- Mmfuck! So well, sweetie, you’re doing s’good,” he says, his forehead against yours. He was so big, you could’ve sworn you could see a bulge in your stomach. He placed a hand on it, making you whimper from the sensation. “Look at that, baby, look so good all filled up with my cock.”

You blush, wanting to cower and turn your face away. You bite on your bottom lip again, muffling your screams and cries. “Mi amor, no hagas eso (don’t do that), breathe, baby, breathe. Need you to relax, mkay?”

You turn back to him, trying your best to maintain eye contact. He brings his thumb down to rub your puffy clit, the sensation relaxing your weeping, abused cunt, “Atta girl, thaaat’s a good girl. Look at me, baby. Aw, yea, wanna see that pretty face.” His cock was able to slide in and out, your pussy greedily sucking him in. Your high-pitched moans were music to his ears.

“M-Miguel, p-please,”, you’re barely able to get out your words, your voice trembling, “si, bebe, que tu quiere? Anything you want, baby.” (Yes, baby, what do you want?)

“Mas rapido.. mas duro, por favor, please, just- just use me, please, daddy?” You were able to finally get it out. You wanted nothing more than for Miguel to just pound you and use you like his toy. (Faster, harder, please).

“Whatever you want, baby girl, daddy’s gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel sooo good.”

Without another second to spare, Miguel pulls back with just his tip inside, and pounds back into you like no other. You scream, tears running down your face as Miguel has his way with you. He kisses those tears away, murmuring, “I know, I know”’s and “I’m sorry”’s into your ear. The vanity shakes vigorously, hitting the wall repeatedly, almost breaking in the process. You hold onto his broad shoulders like your life depended on it. Your bouncing tits catch his attention, and without hesitation, takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking like a wild man.

“God, daddy fucking loves these tits. Look so fucking pretty getting railed while wearing the necklace he gotchu.” you hear muffled against your chest. As if you weren’t stimulated enough, he adds his finger back on your clit, making your eyes roll back from all the different points of pleasure. He lifts his face from your hardened nipple and says, “This pussy’s mine. This juicy ass is mine,” and you feel a loud smack! of his hand on your ass, letting out a whimper,

“You’re all mine. Who’s this pussy belong to, hm?”

“Ugh, you, daddy, I’m all yours! Please, don’t stop, please please please-“ you start sounding like a broken record, muttering ‘daddy’ over and over. “Ay, papi, estoy cerca… i'm gonna come…” (I’m close) you cry, the name fueling Miguel’s drive, so he quickened his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries filling the room. He growls into your neck, biting there,

“That’s right, sweetie, come on daddy’s cock.”

You could care less if the whole theater heard you, your virginity was being taken by the man of your dreams. Plus, it seemed to be getting Miguel riled up even more. He adored your cute sounds.

Once you reach your orgasm, you let out a long whine, your mouth in an o-shape, but Miguel keeps going, riding out his own high, “fuck…almost there baby, just a little longer, I promise… you can do that for daddy, yea? Ohhh I know you can, sweetie.” He coos, drowning you in lazy, sloppy kisses.

When Miguel feels he’s about to burst, he pulls out. It isn’t long before you feel his warm seed spill onto your stomach, Miguel’s groans clouding your mind as he empties himself onto you.

He stands up straight, taking in the gorgeous view of his kid on your lower body, your pussy still crying from his massive cock, and your face in total euphoria. You try to sit up, but he stops you, “no, princesita, déjame limpiarte primero,” (let me clean you first), he goes to grab a few napkins on your vanity, wiping you clean of his and your juices.

“You ok?” He caressed your face, brushing your hair away from it. You managed a weak, frail smile.

You poor, sweet thing.

“Yes, I’m okay,” He smiles before placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Not sure if I’ll be able to walk, but I’m more than okay with that.” He chuckled.

“You did so well. So proud of my girl.” He says with a smirk in a low, husky tone, then playfully licking your lips which makes you giggle. He takes you into his embrace, your chests rising and falling together as he plants kisses on your shoulder.

You both flinch when you hear a knock at your dressing room door and the voice of a little girl right outside.

Y’all almost forgot about Gabriella and her grandma.

Oops.

——————————————————————

Still feral abt this man. Also, can y’all tell I’m a music major? ☠️☠️☠️

Hope you liked it! <3

Until the next chapter <3

Mwah <3

Ch.4

The Cutie Patootie Tag list:

@honey-eyed-munson

@migueloharastruelove

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pozartaa · 25 days

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03.09.24 UTRZYMANIE WAG1 dzień 551. Limit +/- 2100 kcal.

Wybrane posiłki:

Nie liczę kalori1 od: 57 dni

Hej wczoraj na kartach było fajnie ale była jedna drama. Kolega - Mistrz Gry miał załamanie nerwowe. Można pominąć ten akapit jeśli kogoś nie interesuje Magicowa drama↓

W naszej mini grupce mamy takiego chlopaczka - już o nim wspominałam, który ma 17 lat ale jest nad wiek dojrzały mentalnie (nazwijmy go Baby Face, bo twarz na jak 10-latek) a przy okazji jest bardzo inteligentny i trochę taki klown... Ale gra w MTG od 11 roku życia - co daje mi 6 lat przewagi nad nami. No... i zawsze nas równo rozjeżdża. Dla mnie to nie jest akurat problem. To tak jakby się złościć na ładną osobę, że jest ładna bo wygrała w genetycznej loterii.

Zdjęcie poglądowe

W pewnym momencie kolega Mistrz Gry pierdolnął w stoł i rzucił kartami krzycząc, że ma tego dość : " Kur***, wydaje na te karty w CH***, składam decki, czytam i inwestuje ten czas i ciągle dostaje w pizdę!" Ja się na prawdę przerazilam, bo to był prawdziwy rage...

(Chciałam powiedzieć, że mata za 400 zł nie zrobi z niego lepszego gracza...ale się powstrzymałam ) Kurde, mimo wszystkoja go rozumiem - bo sama nie raz się podłamałamałam do łez.

Przecież też ciągle przegrywam ale dostać w pizde od dobrych graczy to nigdy nie jest wstyd... Tym bardziej, że Baby Face nie jest "sapaczem" i nie ma z tego jakiejś strasznej frajdy - po prostu jest od nas lepszy.

Później Baby Face mnie odprowadził do domu i sobie trochę pogadaliśmy. Wiecie, ja się cieszę, że przez tą karciane poznałam tylu fajnych ludzi.

Powiedział mi, że za jakiś czas będę wymiatać bo jest postęp i mam "ciekawe pomysly", a o moim S., że gdyby grał więcej to zawsze byłby w czołówce (No to akurat wiem, bo mój "małż" ma łeb stworzony do takich gier)

***

A dziś nadal wolne. Ale tradycyjnie przygotowywałam sobie posiłki na dwa dni. Zrobiłam też mały spacerek przy okazji załatwiłam pare sprawunków. Mam wrażenie, że bez S. w domu mam jakby więcej czasu... "Małż" zadowolony z pracy (Firma serwisująca sklepy Kaufland).

Wysyła mi zdjęcia obiadów, które gotuje jeden z ich kolegów dla wszystkich - mejn gott - porcje jak dla górnika 😆

Ale mój "małż" jest z tych co jedzą w stylu "raz a dobrze". Ja mam styl jedzenia "mało i często".

Strasznie smali mam nadzieję, że to ostatnie podrygi lata 😝. Dziś idę też grać ale na 18:00 do sklepiku czyli competitive. Koleżanka ( jedyna babeczka poza mną, która gra - bardzo fajna) też postanowiła złożyć deck na jaszczurkach... No gra lepiej ode mnie, więc będę mogła zobaczyć jak mi dopierdziela "moim własnym pomysłem"... Trochę mnie to zmartwiło.... Ale Baby Face powiedział - miej wyjebane - to mam (na tyle na ile mogę).

Dziś więc post znowu wcześniej. A jutro - ponieważ będę w robocie i nic ciekawego się pewnie nie będzie działo - napiszę o czymś na co pomysł podsuną mi wczorajszy post @anjinho-sem-pes0 .

Dobrej nocy wam życzę!

#utrzymanie wagi #pro revovery #ed recovery #ed18+#chce byc piekna #edadult #foodbook #food log #zdrowe jedzenie #gotowanie #nie liczę kalori1

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fat-butterflys · 3 months

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Motylki,gąsieniczki po co my tutaj tak naprawdę jesteśmy ?

Mam wrażenie,że co niektórzy są tu zdecydowanie dla atencji.

Co niektórych tak naprawdę nie wiedzą co to znaczy być motylkiem.

Chyba nie każdy wie z czym to się "je".

Ja tak naprawdę poznałam całe to miejsce gdy byłam już na skraju załamania nerwowego,gdy pewna osoba (moja niby przyjaciółka tak mi się bynajmniej wtedy wydawało ) chciała mnie zrujnować psychicznie i prawie jej się to udało. Doprowadziła mnie do takiego stopnia ,że uwierzyłam jej jak beznadziejna,okropna osoba jestem. Zaczęłam czuć do siebie tylko i wyłącznie nienawiść i tak naprawdę sama nie wiem dlaczego. Myślałam że niezależnie co zrobię to i tak czynię źle.

Kiedyś byłam zwykłą nastolatką. Nie myślałam nad tym jak wyglądam,czy jestem ładna,gruba czy czegoś mi brak.

Niestety czasami w życiu trafiamy na nie odpowiednie osoby i albo potrafimy sobie z tym poradzić albo idziemy na dno.

Ja byłam już w takim stanie,że chciałam odejść.

Czułam ,że nie pasuje do tego świata,że każdy będzie zadowolony gdy mnie po prostu nie będzie.

Ale poznałam to miejsce i wszystko się zmieniło. Czy na lepsze? Czy na gorsze ?

Zdecydowanie na lepsze.

Trumblr jest dla mnie a przynajmniej na początku był dla mnie taka "mała odskocznia" od codzienności. Teraz to zupełnie mnie pochłania w całości. Jednak czy mogę nazwać się motylkiem?

NIE! NIE! NIE!

Pragnę nim być ale wiem ,że przede mną jestem długa,wywoista droga. Wiele wyrzeczeń,napewno też potknięć. Ale wiem dlaczego tu jestem. Jestem tutaj przede wszystkim dla samej siebie,dla tego by w końcu poczuć się piękną dla samej siebie.

Nie potrzebuję atencji innych,czy jakiego kolwiek zainteresowania moja osobą to nic nie zmieni. Chce sama widzieć,że potrafię,że jestem coś warta!!!!

Jeśli myślisz , że nie dasz rady,że się nie nadajesz to wybacz ale będę surowa!

WYNOŚ SIE!

To miejsce nie jest dla mieczaków! Trzeba mieć jaja nie zależnie od wszystkiego! Nikt nie wykona za nas roboty ,to MY musimy się ogarnąć a nie wiecznie szukać wymówek.

Dlatego od dziś biorę się w garść! Skończyło się słuchanie po raz setny innych,dostosowywanie się do innych by im było lepiej. Może to samolubne ale niestety życie nie zawsze jest piękne i kolorowe.

Dlaczego to zawsze ja muszę się na wszystko godzić,być tą potulna,miłą?

Mnie się nikt nie pyta jak ja się czuję tylko jadą po mnie jak po " szm*cie..."

Mam dość chowania głowy w piasek bo wiem,że niezależnie od wszystkiego nikt za mnie nie przeżyje tego zjebanego życia.

Szczerze ???... Nie cierpię go,zwykła codzienność doprowadza mnie do załamania nerwowego. Może mam coś nie po kolei z głową,bo przecież dlaczego jest mi tak źle ? .

Ostatnio tzn wczoraj 🤣🤣 mój partner mówi do mnie że jestem aspołeczna,że nie lubię ludzi,że jestem wredna,podła itd że myślę tylko o sobie. Q ja takie serio? Myślę tylko o sobie ?

Z jednej strony to w CH*j przykre gdy dajemy z siebie wszystko by ta druga osoba miała wszystko a my tak naprawdę mamy swoje dobro w dupie. To tak naprawdę ta druga osoba nie docenia w żaden sposób ciebie.

Skoro i tak każdy uważa że jestem taka czy owaka to to co za różnica czy naprawdę będę egoistką,wredna czy samolubna. Nawet nie zauważa różnicy a może dojdą do wniosku że nie warto cokolwiek robić w moim kierunku...

Moim zdaniem życie jest paskudne. Nie wiem po co się rodziny,po co żyjemy. Dla mnie to nie ma sensu..rodzimy się by później przez większość swojego życia charować a później i tak narzekamy na wszystko. No okej może nie wszyscy ale bądźmy szczerzy sami przed sobą czy podoba się nam swoje życie ? Czy jesteśmy z niego w 100% zadowoleni?

Każdy niby jest kowalem swojego losu ale nie oszukujemy się nie każdy gdy się rodzi ma zajebisty wstęp do czego kolwiek. Niektórzy gdy tylko się urodzą już mają pod górkę.

Mnie np,rodzice nie chcieli,byłam dla nich problemem,którego należało się pozbyć. Zwykłym śmieciem,który trzeba "wynieść" do kosza.

Motylki walczmy,walczmy nie dla innych by coś im udowodnić ale dla siebie samych! Inni jedynie mogą popatrzeć,bo tak naprawdę na każdym kroku będziemy oceniani albo pozytywnie albo negatywnie. Ale to co zrobimy to już nasza sprawa. Nikt nie przeżyje za nas życia. .

Ja już mam dość wiecznego podporządkowywania się innych i udawania że wszystko jest okej! Dlaczego ja ??? .wierzyłam że i nie chcą dla mnie lepiej,chcą mi pomóc ale czy pomogli? Nie! Przez nich przez najbliższych właśnie czuję się jeszcze gorzej!

Moje życie,moja micha. Inni niech się pie*dolą skoro coś im się nie podoba!

A uwierzcie mi ZAWSZE znajdzie się ktoś komu coś będzie nie pasowało!!!

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monster-hunter-comic · 28 days

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Monster Hunter Comic: Mami #122 (Ch. 8 Pg. 9)

beginning | beginning of chapter | previous | next this page burnt me out because all of the character designs are too complex

if you want to keep up with the comic on twitter, you can do that here. for reddit, you can do that here (reddit is usually most up-to-date!).

wanna see my socials? check it. oh, and patrons are four pages ahead. consider supporting. thanks!

#monster hunter #comic #webcomic #illustration #art #artists on tumblr #monster hunter rise #manga #mh #hunter #wind serpent ibushi

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loslentesdepedrito · 11 months

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I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Jack gif by: @coredrive My Masterlist

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Five

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven

Word count: 4.3k+

Chapter summary: Jack visits Ángel in the hospital, bringing the gifts he bought. During the visit, you find yourself reflecting on your relationship with Jack—both before and after your engagement. Also, your husband, Javi, and your ex-husband, Jack, try their best to not kill each other. (Picks up directly from ch. 5. The flashback scene is bold and italicized.)

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the aviators.

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, light suggestive stuff, pregnancy, divorce, childhood disease, mention of death, mention of the death of a child.

You were abruptly pulled from that memory when you heard a soft “¿Mami?”

Your head snapped towards Ángel, who was awake from his nap, his hair adorably messy.

"We've been calling your name," Javi says, no longer in his chair. He's now pouring some milkshake from a third cup into a smaller one for Ángel.

"Sorry, nomas estaba pensando ([I] was just thinking),” you say as you get up to give your son a kiss.

“¿En que, mami? (In what, mommy?)” Ángel asks, tilting his head to look at you.

Before you can reply, a knock echoes in the room.

"Come in," Javi says, loud enough for the person behind the door to hear.

The door opens, and Jack enters with a blue bag in hand.

"Mr. Daniels!" Ángel greeted him, clearly happy to see him.

"Hi, buddy," Jack responded, glad to see that Ángel was taking a liking to him, even if he didn't know their true connection.

"How are you feeling?" Jack asks, genuinely concerned.

"Good, thank you," Ángel replies politely, lifting his cup to take a sip. "My dad gave me some milkshake," he adds with a small smile.

At the mention of Javi’s name, Jack turns to Javi. "Javier," he acknowledges with a slightly sour tone.

"Hi, Jack," Javi responded without bothering to look up from what he was doing.

"I got something for you," Jack says, placing a gift bag on his son's lap. Ángel's head instinctively turned to look at Javi with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission.

“Puedes abrirlo (you can open it),” Javi said softly, granting him permission.

Ángel eagerly reached into the bag, pulling out tissue paper and tossing it over his shoulder onto the floor. He excitedly reached into the bag with his small arm and pulled out a boy's denim jacket. It was a dark blue wash with silver buttons and yellow stitching all along the jacket. The jacket had several pockets, and Ángel immediately started sticking his small fingers into them. The most noticeable feature was a deep red patch at the back of the neck area. In the center of the maroon leather, the word "Jean" was meticulously stitched in bold, white thread. The stitching wasn't perfect, nor was it meant to be; it almost appeared as if it had been hand-sewn. Near the bottom right corner of the patch, a quartet of squares appears, not arranged in a straight line, but it looked better that way. Each square bears a single letter, together spelling out "S-H-O-P."

“¡Qué chulo! (so cute!)” Ángel exclaimed in awe as he tried to put it on, getting halfway before realizing that his right arm had an IV.

"I love it! Thank you so much, Mr. Jack!" your son exclaims with genuine joy. It almost makes up for all the Christmases Jack missed with Ángel - almost.

"No need to thank me, buddy," Jack replies, delighted that Ángel liked the jacket. Kids usually prefer toys over clothing, but ever since Ángel met Jack, he's had cowboy fever.

"I have the same one," Jack adds, the idea of matching with his son warming his heart. Jack couldn't help himself but buy items identical to the ones he already had in his closet. "You can wear it when you get out of here and go to the ranch," Jack explains.

Ángel responds happily and giddy, his excitement bubbling over.

"Keep looking, there's more," Jack encourages his son to explore the rest of the gifts, eager to see his reaction.

“Muy bien (very well), Mr. Jack," Ángel says obediently, forgetting Jack doesn't know Spanish. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a book.

"One hundred fun facts about Horses," Ángel reads out loud and gasps.

"He loves books," you fill Jack in.

Jack was going to say, he didn't get that from me, but he held back and instead replied, "he got that from you."

"Can I read this now?" Ángel questions, clutching the milkshake in one hand and the book in the other.

"There's still more,” Jack points at the bag.

Ángel seemed astonished, asking as if he couldn't believe it, "More?"

"Just one more," Jack laughs at his son's excitement.

For the third time, Ángel reaches into the bag, his face contorted in confusion as he struggles to pull out the item with one hand. "Ma," he calls out and hands you his drink. You hold it for him, and with both hands, he successfully retrieves the last item from the bottom of the bag.

He takes out a black box with the word 'stetson' printed in white ink. Your son rattles the box, but his eyebrows pinch in the middle; he can't make out what's inside the box.

He finally reads the text and asks, "What is a stetson?" Not waiting for an answer as his curiosity got the best of him, he takes matters into his own hands and opens the box, revealing a layer of white tissue paper inside. This time, he's more careful. With his small fingers, Ángel gently grasps the paper from both ends in the middle and pulls it apart.

"Wow!" he exclaims as he sees a black hat upside down. He delicately removes the hat from its container and flips it over to examine it with wide eyes.

Ángel looks at Jack with a smile that warms Jack's heart, a smile he'd do anything for, even if it meant crawling to the depths of hell and facing Satan himself, just to keep it on his son's face.

He begins, "My grandpa gave me a hat—" but his sentence is cut short when he eyes Jack's own hat. He then turned his attention back to the smaller hat in his hands, his face contorted with intense concentration. "Wait... it's just like yours, Mr. Jack!"

The smile that Jack offers in response is just like Ángel's. He can already envision his son wearing everything he's given him. The prospect of having his son resemble him, even in a small way, fills Jack with emotion. Tears prick Jack’s eyes at the thought of his son looking like a little version of himself, without the mustache, of course. He can’t wait for the day his son will be his spitting image, from head to toe, or more appropriately, from the top of the hat to the tip of his boots. Now he just needs boots, Jack thinks, making a mental note to purchase them soon.

"Do you like it?" Jack asks.

"I love it!" Ángel exclaims.

Without hesitation, he places the hat on his head and grins when it fits perfectly. "My glasses didn't fall this time!"

Laughter envelops the room, and you can't help but wish for this kind of co-parenting relationship with Jack.

“Papi, look, it looks a little like the one grandpa gave me,” Ángel says not resisting showing his dad, as he does with everything.

It was indeed true; Chucho had gifted his grandson a straw hat. The moment Ángel received the hat, he'd given his grandpa a giant hug and then raced to show his dad.

Javi had never shared his son before, so watching him interact with Jack was a bit difficult for him. But he knew it was for the best, and he held onto the certainty that Ángel would always be his son, no matter what.

"Sí, mijo, te ves lindo (Yes son, you look nice)," Javi honestly praised Ángel's appearance, trying to focus on the happiness of the moment.

Jack, in the same boat as Javi, felt his heart chip ever so slightly every time Ángel called Javier "dad." He made a conscious effort to push aside these feelings and to fully enjoy the present.

"It’s perfect, right?” Jack asked, wanting reassurance.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels. Thank you,” Ángel replied, gratitude in his eyes, and he invited Jack to sit down next to him.

Jack complied happily, impressed by Ángel's ability to win him over so quickly.

“Can you tell me more about your ranch, please?” Ángel gazed at Jack with puppy eyes, and Jack couldn't resist.

He chuckled at how quickly his son could melt his heart. "Sure thing."

“Wait! I want a picture first,” Ángel suddenly announced.

“I’ll do it,” Jack offered before you or Javi had a chance to react.

Jack stood up from his chair, retrieved his phone from his pocket, and started setting up the camera. While he was busy, Ángel adjusted his jacket to make sure it wasn't slipping off the shoulder where his arm wasn't through the sleeve.

“Ready?” Jack asked, his finger poised over the top right button to take a picture.

Ángel didn’t reply with words. Instead, he looked up at Jack and said, “Cheese,” remembering to smile. He held the pose while Jack's phone captured several clicks.

“Thank you, Mr. Jack,” Ángel said gratefully.

“Thank you, buddy.”

Jack moved to his gallery to look at the pictures he had just taken and let out a sigh of frustration when he noticed the quality wasn't what he had hoped for.

“Maybe I need to get a newer phone,” he grumbled, slightly annoyed.

At that moment, Javi's voice came from behind him, growing nearer. “Probably because I heard the Smithsonian wants to contact you to make a deal so they could display your phone for their 1930s collection,” Javi deadpanned, handing his own phone to Jack. “Here, use my phone. I'll make sure you get the pictures.”

Jack accepted the phone with an eye roll, gave a begrudging nod, and muttered a terse 'thanks' before asking his son to smile once more. This time, Jack was satisfied with the pictures he took and returned Javi's phone.

A palpable tension lingered between the two men as they settled back into their respective chairs, the strained atmosphere refusing to dissipate but remaining held in check within the confines of the hospital room.

Sipping on their milkshakes, Jack raked his brain for a story to share, while you removed your son’s jacket to allow him to lay back more comfortably.

Once Ángel was nestled against the pillows, Jack began his story. “During nights at the ranch, the stars are beautiful. The most beautiful starry nights…”

starry nights

“And that is The Big Dipper,” you pointed at the sky and traced the constellation with your finger. It was a collection of seven bright stars in the shape of a ladle, its handle stretching out across the sky like a long handle on a giant celestial spoon. It was a clear, beautiful night, and the stars seemed to shine especially bright.

“Over there is Orion,” you traced with your finger again. Orion was one of the most recognizable constellations, with its three stars forming Orion's Belt.

“and there-” you turned to look at Jack, expecting to find him gazing at the stars as you had been. Instead, he was looking intently at you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked, puzzled as to why he wasn’t following your descriptions. “Am I boring you?” You wondered, a mix of genuine concern and offense in your voice.

“Nunna that,” he replied in his thick drawl.

“So?” You prodded.

“I just love you,” he said, his expression filled with adoration. Jack looked at you as though you were the most incredible thing in the world.

You couldn't help but laugh, maybe at the intensity of the moment, or maybe at the expression that sent your heart racing, or perhaps a combination of both. You reached out, ran your fingers through his hatless hair – a rarity – and pulled him in for a kiss.

A few months later, he proposed to you, and just like that, it seemed that overnight, he had changed.

The night Jack proposed, the air was filled with the scent of love and the promise of a shared future. Bodies exhausted from the intimate celebration, you both drifted into sleep with the utmost excitement for your upcoming wedding and the prospect of spending the rest of your lives together.

As you dreamt sweetly about your wedding day and all the plans you and Jack had lovingly discussed, Jack had an entirely different dream – one that would alter the course of your lives. In this dream, he was visited by his high school sweetheart, his first wife. She came to him, tearful and broken, a ghost of heartache, accusing him of replacing her with you. Over eight hours of sleep, Jack relived every shared moment, each memory etched into his mind, right down to the devastating memory of burying her along with their unborn son.

In his vivid dream, Jack meticulously compared the two of you, scrutinizing and contrasting your every feature, your every virtue. He reached the conclusion that his first wife was his one true love, his happily ever after. He placed her on an unattainable pedestal, and you, unfortunately, received the short end of the stick. In his altered and frantic mindset, still within the dream, Jack reassured her that you could never replace her because you could never be her. Jack decided that you could never measure up to the ideal woman he had built in his memories of his first wife.

Life had cruelly snatched her away, and in a perverse twist of fate, you became a living and painful reminder of everything he had lost and everything he could never regain. The woman he had lost became an unattainable ghost of perfection, and you, no matter how wonderful and loving, were forever held hostage by the shadow of her memory.

As the morning sun streamed into the room, you opened your eyes, anticipating the warmth of his presence beside you. When he wasn't in bed, you thought he might be in the kitchen making breakfast, so you searched for him happily, looking forward to sharing a bath to relive the delicious soreness from the night before, with thoughts of another round lingering in your imagination. However, your excitement turned to disappointment when he wasn't anywhere in the house.

Hours later, when he finally returned home, his behavior was curt, and he vaguely mentioned having something to do. Initially, you brushed it off, blaming his behavior on the stress of work, assuming it was a one-time thing.

Then, a week passed; Jack distanced himself even further, rejecting your touch and avoiding PDA, which he used to love. The warmth that used to define your connection was now replaced by a chilling void.

Conversations about his day once shared openly, became scarce, and when you broached planning your wedding, he conveniently found errands or claimed overtime at work—anything to avoid the topic.

Your once lively conversations dwindled, and the late-night talks on random topics became a distant memory. Your hopeful wishes for Jack to return to his previous self remained just that—wishes. Instead of reverting, Jack's behavior worsened. Thinking back on that post-engagement morning, it was as though a different Jack had awakened: someone you wouldn't recognize in the years to come, leaving you confused about what you might have done to bring about this change.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack had finished his story. You returned from the memory you had tried so diligently to bury, only to realize that Jack was explaining to his son that he needed to leave.

“I’ve gotta go to the pharmacy and pick up my medicine," he told Ángel. Although Jack didn't specify the medicine he needed to collect, both you and Javi were well aware that it was the injections he needed.

Ángel's face fell with disappointment, evident in his now-diminished smile. But he quickly bounced back before Jack could offer more apologies.

"It's okay, Mr. Jack," he said with a brave smile, even though his eyes betrayed his disappointment.

"Medicine is very important," Ángel added matter-of-factly.

Jack smiled at the boy's maturity. "You're absolutely right."

"I'll see you soon, right?" Ángel asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Whenever the hospital allows," Jack replied cautiously, refraining from disclosing his procedure, as Ángel wasn’t aware of the pending surgery, and Jack didn't want to lie to his son.

Ángel accepted Jack's answer and thanked him for the wonderful gifts before saying his goodbyes.

"I'll see you out, Jack. The exit you normally use is closed, so you'll need to go through the sky bridge," Javi offered.

"Sure," Jack agreed without protest.

He was just about to say goodbye to you when Ángel suddenly exclaimed, "Oh-uh…”

All three of you turned your heads, concern etching your features.

“Tengo que ir al baño (I have to go to the restroom),” he said anxiously. Typically, he didn't need assistance, but the IV made it complicated to go to the bathroom by himself.

Javi immediately offered, “Lo llevo yo (I’ll take him).” Given your pregnancy, taking care of Ángel was challenging, and Javi didn't want to jeopardize the well-being of all three of you. So Javi had willingly taken over the physical tasks of caring for him. He didn't mind – he loved looking after his son. Besides, he didn't want you walking Jack out, given that he remembered Jack referring to you as his wife. A part of him would always hold some resentment toward Jack, but his priority was his son.

As you focused on helping Ángel with the sheets, Javi approached Jack, his jaw locked, and in a low tone, he leaned in, warning, "If you try anything..." His stern expression and brown eyes bore into Jack's, conveying a clear threat. The warning only reached Jack's ears, and Jack remained silent, reminding himself to behave in front of Ángel.

Javi then forcefully bumped shoulders with Jack as he moved past him to assist Ángel in the restroom. You missed this interaction, and when you eventually glanced at Jack, he was seething. It had been years since you had seen him so angry – precisely nine years, to be exact. Confusion clouded your mind, leaving you standing there, staring at him, and he did the same. Your attention was drawn away from him when Ángel said his final goodbye.

"Let's go," you told Jack and proceeded towards the door.

Jack gives his son one last look and sees Javi guiding him to the restroom inside the hospital room.

With that, Jack is on your heels. You are five steps ahead of Jack. As you walk ahead of him, you find your mind drifting to your relationship with Jack. You classified your relationship with Jack in two phases: pre-engagement and post-engagement. Pre-engagement Jack would lace your hands together every time you were out in public or have his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder. He wanted everyone to know that you were his, and he was yours.

Post-engagement Jack underwent a drastic transformation. He no longer held you in public, except for that one instance when there was construction on a street that had forced him to help you across a blocked and narrow sidewalk. He also began to walk ahead of you, not just a step or two, but so far that you sometimes had to wait for the traffic light to change and he would be on the other side of the street. After several attempts of trying to catch up with him, you eventually stopped trying to keep up and accepted this new reality.

Now, ironically, the roles had reversed, and you were walking ahead of Jack, with no intention of slowing down once you crossed the skybridge. Jack used long strides to catch up to you. Fortunately, the two of you were the only ones crossing the bridge that connected the children's wing to the parking lot, or else it might appear as if he were following you. Desperately, Jack wished to be by your side and engage in conversation. About what? Anything, really. He wanted to talk about the weather, the stars (something you once loved discussing but which he had grown annoyed with), or even something as random as worms, as long as it led to a conversation. He hoped to make you smile and laugh, even if it meant discussing the most mundane topics. Jack briefly wondered if this was how you had felt during your marriage – always yearning for his presence and conversation. He was already aware of the answer: yes.

As he rounded the corner, he saw you and swiftly pressed the elevator button. The doors opened with a soft ding right in time for Jack to step inside. You promptly pressed the button marked G1, initiating the descent. Jack's mind raced as he desperately sought the right words, knowing he had only a few precious minutes before you returned upstairs. Once you were outside, he finally summoned the courage to speak, but you broke the silence first.

“I’m begging you, Jack, do not flake on this. You heard Ángel's doctor. If you back out while he’s on chemo-”

“Do ya really think I would do that?” Jack's hands went to his waist, his eyebrows furrowing with anger and surprise. “To my own son?” He sounded genuinely shocked that you would even consider such a possibility.

“No...” After a pause, you decided to be honest, “Yes, Jack. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it's the truth. I don’t know if I trust you. I want to. But I know better. I need to keep my guard up. I can’t risk it, not when Ángel is on the line. I did once, and look how that turned out.”

“Ya think I don't think 'bout that often?” Jack's voice rose. “Okay, I know what I did…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I won’t do that again. I will never abandon him. Ever. I will not fail him again.”

You repeated to yourself, Don't cry, don't cry.

“And you think it was easy for me to forget?” you continued, voice trembling. “I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. After you proposed, you... you changed!”

"I remember that once, I dropped off lunch at your office because I got out of work early, and I wished I never left work." The tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled the painful memory. "I was in your building, on my way to your office, when a guard stopped me before I got to the reception. I explained that I was going to drop off food for my husband, and he asked me who I was married to." You continued, “Of course, I said your name, and you know what he said?" Without giving Jack a chance to speak, you added, "He said he was under the impression that your wife had passed away."

The color drained from Jack's face.

"It was so embarrassing, Jack. I didn't know what to say." You covered your eyes with both hands. "He and everyone on the floor thought I was crazy and making shit up." After a moment of silence, you continued, “At least Ginger was there, and she took me away into a hallway. I begged her not to say anything. I just went back home and cried my heart out."

Jack looked like a fish out of water, struggling to find words.

You pointed your index finger at his face and said, "Yeah, do that for like two minutes with a Tupperware of food, and you'll look exactly like me." Your dry laugh turned into a scoff.

"I'm sorry. Jesus, Sugar, I'm so sorry."

You heard the emotion behind his words and snapped, “Oh, don’t you fucking dare cry.” You were furious that he wanted to cry when you were the one who had gone through this. Years ago, you would've never dreamt of him feeling the burden of your pain, one that he had caused. You would've shielded him and shouldered everything, but you had changed too.

“I already cried enough for the both of us,” you add.

That made Jack want to cry more, but he quickly composed himself and fought back the unshed tears.

He comes closer to you, cupping your face in his hand. You shiver. Not because you feel any warm feelings you used to. Quite the opposite; you shiver because his hand is so cold.

"I'm sorry for hurtin’ you, baby," he says sincerely, looking into your eyes.

“Don’t,” you say, smacking his hand away. “Don’t call me that and don’t ever touch me again.” It's as if the palm of his hand gave you a freezer burn.

Suddenly, you hear heavy and hurried footsteps behind you.

From the corner of your eye, you see one of the security guards from the lobby.

“Is there a problem?” the security guard asks.

Jack looks at the guard annoyed as if he interrupted something. “I’m talking with my wife.”

“Oh my God, stop saying that! I’m not your wife!” you exclaim, frustration lacing your voice.

“Ma’am, is this man bothering you?” The security guard is about to intervene, concern evident in his tone.

“No! He was just leaving, sir.” You manage to give the best smile you can muster to the guard, doing your best to reassure him.

Jack, still looking irritated, takes a step back, giving you some space.

You grab Jack’s jacket and spin him around so he could look onto the parking lot. In a hushed voice, you whisper-yell, “Jack, don’t make a scene. If you get in trouble, you won’t be allowed into the hospital, and then Ángel won’t have a donor.” You didn’t know that would happen if the security guard kicked him out, probably not, but you were just saying things to make him leave.

Shit, shit, shit, why do I keep doing this? he asks himself.

“We’ll talk another day, Jack,” you sound deflated.

“Right now I have to get back and explain everything to Ángel since he’s getting surgery tonight,” you say.

That sobered him up.

“Okay. Call me with any updates. Text me too. It don't matter what time.”

You nod and turn to go back to your family.

A/N: I've created an account exclusively for reblogging my writing: @loslentesdepedrito-library . Feel free to follow me there if you'd like to be notified about anything and everything I write!

This is the fastest I've ever created a graphic (even though it took me a week 😳), yay! The next couple of weeks will be busy for me, but I hope to upload the last chapter before the end of the year. I know! I just have a lot to catch up on since I went on sick leave :(

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

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hand-picked-star · 4 months

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I am writing this highly controversial thoughts only because @featheredclover had recommended me a fanfic about khushi feeling left out during the basket ball game and then my thoughts went wayward. 😁 I haven't watched the last 33 episodes of ipkknd in a very long time, only some snippets of cute married arshi. But I did watch them 2 days ago just to validate the fact that whatever I think about them was what shown on the screen.All of my thoughts don't just exist in my mind.They also match the narrative too.

And I was right with my previous decision to not watch ipkknd past Arnav's birthday,those are horrible episodes.

Anyways, it's my thoughts on the suicide tract and sheetal tract and how khushi ignored the absolute truths that she knew by heart whenever she was hurt and tried to sheild herself from the pain.These tracks are khushi-centric, I just wished they were well written. My poor baby!!!

Suicide track

Khushi knew with absolute certainity that Arnav doesn't believe in God, she even said so.

So, why she came up with that excuse to justify committing suicide? It's this scene.

Arnav was talking to lavanya, there was no romantic vibes,but but but, he was talking to her very nicely . I am not trying to blame La or Arnav here, La deserved every bit of decency from Arnav because of the way he treated her.And just because he talked with her politely doesn't mean that he is developing feelings for her.Arnav had always shown as a character who was sure about his feelings. He was unsure about khushi not because he didn't know how he felt, it was more about him losing control and later their compatibility and his ego.But when khushi saw and hear him talking to her like that it's bound to hurt her. He didn't even talk to her anymore and when he did it was always mixed with vitriol & bitterness. Here her insecurities raised it's head, a doubt settled in. She was seeing a man talking to his ex-girlfriend nicely,who he was going to marry willingly and somehow broke up suddenly for a reason unknown to her.And here she had hoped based on their holi conversation that there was something between them and it would be alright with time when he would forget his pain that she knew nothing about and the six month timeline would never come,coz he had feeling for her right? But she was realizing that probably she assumed wrong, probably he didn't love her,probably he loved someone else and the marriage would end because why would he be with her if he loved someone else. And she didn't tell it but khushi couldn't live without Arnav too. And Arnav loving someone else was equivalent to death for her.

Thus her mind found out the bizarre idea to cope with the pain.I always thought why the showrunners spent so much time in showing how khushi hallucinating Arnav killing her in different method instead of spending time in significant moment? Like Arnav had softened down a little bit toward her, he was concerned about her, kept asking her family what's wrong with her, he brought a glass of milk to her because she didn't eat enough at dinner,wanted her to see a doctor. In a very long time the rajkumar was winning in battle against the rakhsak. The Love of a lover was overshadowing the love of a brother and son.

Sheetal track

Before going into the sheetal track I was just curious about the easy acceptance of Aarav in the raizada family and even to Arnav.That family was preparing to welcome a child in their house that never came. Subconsciously, they might all saw the unborn,lost child in Aarav.Because even mami was so open with the idea of spoiling Aarav. At this vulnerable time they even Arnav formed a bond with Arnav unknowningly.

And also in regards of Arnav, since he knew Anjali was pregnant, he was preparing himself to be the father-figure of that child. Normally, maternal uncles didn't think like that, but he thought right? He planned to throw Shyam out of shantivan after the child would safely be born.After that he would be taking care of the child.He was preparing himself mentally for that duty. He would have been anything the child needed him to be. So, he was already softened with the idea of being a guardian to a child.

And he also could relate to Aarav,as Arnav also missed his father in his childhood. And all of these khushi misunderstood as bond between a father and a son.

Then let's discuss khushi, just like suicide track, in sheetal track, she also know with absolute certainty that Arnav loved her, she herself said that 'he loved me more than himself' and she also knew that Arnav couldn't live without her.

Then why all through the sheetal track she was so afraid of Arnav leaving her? It wasn't Arnav she was afraid of, she was afraid of her own ideology that if this child came out as Arnav's, she had to leave him so that Arnav provide his parental duty toward the child and it's not just name or financial support, it also include a family, a complete family,consists of both parents and she didn't see herself in that family. And that's why she was almost irrational in her pursuit to find out if Aarav was Arnav's child.

And also that's why she was feeling so left out during that basketball game.Till that day,Arnav didn't talk to Sheetal at all,not really.And it was clear Arnav was passionate about basketball in his college days.And for someone who had a bad childhood, college life certainly was a safe heaven for him. College life was a time when he didn't fully adopted his ASR sheild and had a chance to be his most truest self without any past trauma and responsibilities. And being in a foreign land the 3 indian students clearly formed a good bond. And it was cleared by Arnav that he dated sheetal for a very brief time,so brief to form any physical relationship with her and even broke up with her immediately after graduation, clearly she wasn't important enough to try having a relationship post college. But they were friends before they started dating. Basketball was something they played as friends not as couple.During that basketball game that friendship came out and Arnav wasn't completely ignorant about khushi. He inquired about her after coming inside and asked her where did she disappeared after the game and why she made jalebies. He was teasing her to make her relax but khushi never shared anything with Arnav. And that friendship didn't mean anything to Arnav actually, it was just falling in rhymes with an old friend. And when Arnav realized khushi was upset,he even stop interacting with sheetal beyond polite conversation after that.The marriage and relationship stuff was new for both of them.He was not a mind-reader and khushi rarely expressed what was bothering her.On the other hand,khushi didn't know what to do with the overwhelming possessiveness and insecurities that were brewing inside her.

And I think khushi was not really worried about Arnav having a bonding during the game thinking that he might be developing feelings for her or already had feelings for her. When she started to be bothered with sheetal, it started with the doubt with Aarav's paternity and intensified with the knowledge of their past dating history. She just wanted some solid proof that something romantic between them would be impossible in the future so that even if Aarav was indeed Arnav's child, Aarav's mother won't come in between khushi and Arnav. Thus the banter in basketball game made her worried. She was worried about the fact that if Aarav was proved to be Arnav's son, the family she wanted Arnav to give Aarav would be possible, because clearly Arnav and sheetal could have a relationship again for Aarav's sake.

And that's exactly she end up doing. After finding out Aarav was Arnav's, she attempted to leave Arnav so that he could give Aarav a complete family but she was in a way selfish herself too, she left the person she knew couldn't live without her because she couldn't bear the pain of seeing him with anyone else. She forgot all her promises, even promises she made mere few hours ago, just to escape the pain.She left before Arnav had a chance to leave her or tell her to leave. That's why when Arnav got hold of her insecurities he told her 'Arnav aur khushi hamesha saath rehenge' to assure her.

And khushi learnt a special lesson that night.What did loving really mean? Being there when all is fine? or being there no matter what? especially when nothing is fine. After realizing that khushi stood beside Arnav keeping aside her fear.She also learnt what did loving Arnav really mean, that tough guy needed someone to love him as he was and not to abandon him again like his mother did.

And the thing about knowing all the stuff about Arnav that sheetal knew but Khushi didn't. Doesn't that knowledge come with time,with living with the person,one learn new things about their partners everyday, but end of the day,these are all general knowledge, khushi knew the real Arnav,what he valued,what he feared.She helped him brought out the Arnav that he buried under the ASR mask.It wasn't sheetal that brought out the Arnav that played basketball and played drums.No it was khushi, khushi gave him the confidence to be his true self in the middle of his past trauma and responsibilities not in isolation.

I have watched that game very carefully without any bias.The moment that khushi was watching so carefully when Arnav and sheetal was about to collide, sheetal was so aggressive, Arnav was looking at her with a WTF face, I don't know about anyone,but I found it funny. If Khushi actually focused on participating in the game instead of being so worried, she would had noticed how easily Arnav gave the ball up to khushi or the smile he gave her when she was up against him. 😊

I was thinking about the formation of sheetal track similar with the contact marriage track, where in sheetal track khushi did the same thing that Arnav did to khushi during contract marriage track. Here I came to a horrifying theory how the sheetal track could have gone terribly wrong if not the show ended when it ended. We might see a forced marriage or almost a forced marriage again but between Arnav and sheetal, on khushi's request as Arnav was doing everything khushi requested him to do.I am thankful that we didn't have to see that kind of plot and it ended where it ended.

And that also tied around the question of redemption on khushi's side in sheetal track and on Arnav's side in contact marriage track.Khushi forgave Arnav instantly for every hurt he done and similarly Arnav also forgave khushi instantly as they both understand and love each other beyond anything else,a bond beyond anything else, stronger than anything else. A bond stronger & powerful than any bond Arnav could have made by playing basketball and playing drums.

My Scattered thoughts (13/?)

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #arshi #my scattered thoughts

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hanasnx · 2 years

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-ˏ͛ ꒷꒰ anakin skywalker ⿻ m.list ꒷ˏ͛-

MINORS DNI 18+ ༄

"Please just save me from this darkness." — Snow Patrol. (2006). Make This Go On Forever.

彡 ch: anakin skywalker 「 � 」

── series ┆ CHAPTER SERIES.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ stranded | SUMMARY: be a part of the story! vote on the poll at the bottom. ✩ part two ✩ part three

other ¡! ❞

✩ exit music for a film | SUMMARY: somehow aware of anakin skywalker’s knightfall before the events take place, you seek to change the ending before it happens. ✩ part two

── one shots ┆ OVER 1K.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ fantasizing | SUMMARY: seeing you cozied up with general skywalker caused the clones to talk about what they’d do to you if you were theirs. anakin stands by and listens, smug that he’s allowed to do anything he wants to you, and his battalion can only fantasize about it.

✩ how he learned to kiss | SUMMARY: coaxing anakin to spill the story on how he got so good at kissing as a virgin before he even met you, he relays a story of his youth.

✩ cherries and wine | SUMMARY: anakin takes good care of his princess.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ talk huttese to me | SUMMARY: intent to get his mind off of his hard work, you ask to learn more about anakin’s native language: huttese. when he talks dirty to you in it, you can’t help but beg for more. and he gets off to the fact you have no idea what kind of depraved things he’s saying to you while he pleasures you.

✩ final girl | SUMMARY: the neighborhood serial killer has a soft spot for you. you didn’t realize how really close you were to him. after your best friend confesses his feelings for you, he confesses something else as well. something far more sinister.

✩ one more night | SUMMARY: anakin can’t accept the fact that you and him split, so he shows up at your door in the middle of the night.

✩ a lesson in huttese | SUMMARY: after a market mishap, anakin gives you a more personal lesson in how to speak his native language.

✩ starlight | SUMMARY: a happy reunion.

✩ give a little more | SUMMARY: what starts out as a romantic massage for you, ends with anakin skywalker's cock massaging your insides.

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ tit fucking ✩ the aftermath of getting a full body wax ✩ based on a tiktok ✩ arm kink ✩ dry humping ✩ black eye ✩ good at art ✩ green in the eye ✩ parasomnia ✩ prompt #100 ✩ eye contact part two ✩ prompt #187 ✩ another daddy ✩ stung twice ✩ spilling secrets ✩ stranded ✩ fan dancer ✩ sucking fingers ✩ mami ✩ dumbification ✩ baby fever ✩ picking you up ✩ throat fuck ✩ dacryphilia ✩ riding ✩ she’s busy ✩ arm kink: revisted ✩ breathplay ✩ push ✩ adultfilm!anakin ✩ "i'll haunt the..."

smut ¡! ❞

✩ early mornings ✩ prompt #65 + #68 ✩ squirting ✩ honey ✩ music taste ✩ fight ✩ "if you want more..."

other ¡! ❞

✩ ahsoka & obi wan talking about you ✩ sacred cleansing ✩ if i built a raft, will you stay with me then? ✩ profighter au ✩ breakeven ✩ drunk ✩ 6'7!anakin

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ wearing glasses ✩ “daddy” ✩ sub content ✩ eye contact ✩ beat-up before sex ✩ opinion on orgasm denial ✩ flirting tactics ✩ sparring sex ✩ rainbow kiss ✩ fucks like he’s not pretty ✩ smut alphabet: A - B ✩ babydaddy!anakin ✩ dick headcanons ✩ ex-bf!

smut ¡! ❞

✩ kinks | part two ✩ pornstar au

other ¡! ❞

✩ toxic ✩ petnames

── additional content ┆ MISC.

✩ nametag ✩ thoughts ✩ prompts

彡 ch: anakin skywalker x padmé amidala 「 � 」

── one shots ┆ OVER 1K.

smut ¡! ❞

✩ just bad, bad decisions | SUMMARY: having officially broken it off because of anakin’s stupid mistake, anakin and padmé have not seen each other since. when they lock eyes during a football game they both attend, they find their way back to each other during the game. and set aside their differences to reconnect under the bleachers.

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ mad ✩ sacred heart

── additional content ┆ MISC.

✩ nametag

彡 ch: anakin skywalker x riyo chuchi 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

other ¡! ❞

✩ eclipse ✩ i do

── additional content ┆ MISC.

✩ nametag

彡 ch: anakin skywalker x zena daren 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ interview

── additional content ┆ MISC.

✩ nametag

NAVI | M.LIST | RULES | FAQ

#masterlist #indy: series #indy: one shots #indy: drabbles #indy: headcanons #indy: edits

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dustfromangel · 5 days

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23.09.24r

Dziś było spoko w szkole, dostałam 5- z kartkówki z informatyki i napisałam też z matmy ale średnio mi poszła…. Jutro mam geografię kartkówkę ale łatwe więc git, miałam dziś tenisa i nigdy się nie czułam gorzej w moim życiu (no może tylko po zjedzeniu czegoś) bo mamy grupę, że połowa to średniozaawansowana a druga połowa to ci co są pierwszy raz i mamy w tej pierwszej za dużo osób, więc mnie wysłała do tej dla początkujących i no chyj cn ale mówiła że będziemy się zmieniać, nie zmienialiśmy xd i lost my shit na końcu i mama na końcu weszła na kort a mi było głupio więc szybko wyszłam bo już się rozbeczlAm, dużo osób będzie to uważało za dziwne ale no z dużej ilości osób akurat ja, poczułam się zmieszana z 💩 bo jednak trenuje 3 lata :/ mama była wcześniej niż zwykle więc podeszła i z bratem mnie widzieli przez takie okienka w wejściu, mama powiedziała że widziała że coś jest nie tak bo na końcu samym już zaczęłam ocierać łzy, powiedziałam sobie że jak się rozpłacze to nie zjem jutro tylko idę na liquid fast 😜😜 dziś zjadłam ok 1200 nie jestem zadowolona z siebie :( ale no ch, mama napisała do tej trenerki i ta trenerka mnie przeprosiła ale no słabo się czułam. ALE MAMA POQIEDZIALA ŻE WYGLĄDAM DROBNIUTKO 😄😄😄 YAYAYAYAY. po tenisie zrobiłam zdjęcie sobie i bodychecku i oba wyglądają bosko ale no nie wstawię bo nie chce body checkow wstawiac narazie, a twarz to nawet jakbym na ig wstawiła to nie chce być atencjuszka bo tam widać rozmazany tusz

I’m insane but in a poetic way

goodnight motylki pewnie jeszcze coś powstawiam 😜

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persephoneola · 4 months

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O szkole, matmie i tak ogolnie

Tym razem chyba bedzie dlugi post, bo musze sie nieco wyrzygac.

Wiecie, ze lubie Austrie i ogolnie jestem i zawsze bylam dosc sporym fanem, ale sa rzeczy, ktore mnie niemilosiernie wkurzaja.

Dzis bedzie o matmie. Ogolnie chapeau przed polska edukacja, ktora dane mi bylo otrzymac. Ja, ktora myslalam, ze jestem kiepska z matmy, dzis spokojnie nadal ogarniam tematy dziecka w wieku 14 lat. Mysle, ze ta ciaglosc sie jeszcze troche utrzyma.

Ale sluchajcie, mozna by pomyslec, ze matma to matma, wszedzie ucza tak samo, co tu ma byc innego.

No to by sie czlowiek zdziwil. Mozna powiedziec, ze jestem malo elastyczna i nie moge pogodzic sie z tym, ze sa inne metody rozwiazywania zadan, ale one sa zwyczajnie niepotrzebnie trudne, czasochlonne i zwyczajnie denne.

Nie uwierzycie, nawet pisemne odejmowanie robia inaczej. Przy pisemnym dzieleniu polowe zapamietuja w glowie zamiast zapisac, przez co dzieja sie bledy. Ale ostatnio akurat na sercu leza mi procenty i czasem na serio mysle, ze to ja potrzebuje %%, bo inaczej nie zniose tego.

Nie wiem, u nas, zeby policzyc 19% z 99 po prostu mnozy sie jedno przez drugie, procenty mozna sobie zamienic na ulamek (dla dzieci) lub ulamek dziesietny dla doroslych. Tu maja wzor, wiec cala trudnosc zaczyna sie od tego, co jest czym we wzorze i jak go przeksztalcic (btw. ostatnio dostalam zjeby, bo chodzilo o wzor typu 5=x/2 i jak policzyc x, na co ja powiedzialam, ze to kurwa pierwsza klasa i te takie diagramy ze strzalkami (liczba dzielona przez x i pod spodem z powrotem wynik mnozony przez x ) , a jak nie wie, co jest czym, to niech sobie zapisze jakies dzielenie, ktore zna i zobaczy, z ktorych liczb pomnozonych czy podzielonych wychodza ktore). Po co? Ch wie. Podobnie ze wszystkimi innymi zadaniami na procenty.

Po drugie-dzieci F. chodza do niby najlepszej szkoly w E. Prywatnej, bo dwie najlepsze sa prywatne. Ale co sie dzieje na lekcjach? Tego nie wie nikt, ale chyba nie da sie az tak nie uwazac, zeby z matmy nie wiedziec kompletnie zero nic niente.

Nie ma tu rowniez bycia przygotowanym do lekcji (z 2-3 ostatnich), zadnych kartkowek, nic. W zwiazku z czym dramat zaczyna sie w weekend przed praca klasowa, kiedy akurat dzieci sa u F. Dramat jest jednak wielki, bo one z lekcji nie wiedza nic, w zwiazku z czym nie ma wyjasnienia tylko tego, czego nie rozumieja i ogolnej powtorki wszystkiego. Jest nauka od zera wszystkiego. A to nie jest tak, ze w kazdy weekend mamy tylko wolne, bez zadnych innych obowiazkow czy rzeczy to-do. A nawet, gdyby byly cale dni, to nie jest tak ze one sobie usiada, poucza sie i sie naucza, bo one nawet nie maja w glowie pol ciuta wiedzy, ze tak, to bylo, tak, to robilismy na lekcji tak czy srak NIC. I one nawet czytajac zadania, nie rozumieja, co czytaja, nie wiedza, co liczyc.

Tu uklon w kierunku polskiej szkole za dane i szukane.

Wtedy wkracza F., siedzi z nimi, ale on z kolei nie umie uczyc, wiec mowi, zrob zadanie takie i takie i idzie posiedziec z telefonem w oczekiwaniu, zamiast pokazac, wyjasnic i z innymi danymi kazac zrobic. One siedza, nic to nie daje, mija czas. Po godzinie wszyscy sa juz zmeczeni zyciem, wiec jest przerwa, potem moze godzinka "nauki" znowu, a w takich warunkach trzeba by intensywnie przesiedziec caly weekend prawie non stop, choc i to za malo.

Nie mowiac juz o tym, ze starsza zanim w ogole wstanie, to jest 11. Ale potem zawsze jest placz.

Mam wkurwa na szkole, ze nie uczy. Mam wkurwa na dzieci, ze sie nie ucza, choc po prawdzie nie potrafia, ale po innej prawdzie, tego ich nikt nie nauczyl, a jak chcesz im to pokazac, kazdy ma Ciebie w dupie. Mam wkurwa na rodzicow, ze raz, ze sa sami troche nieukami (choc wszyscy maja mature!) i dwa, ze nie rozumieja, ze tak sie nie da miec dobrych czy nawet pozytywnych ocen.

Mam wkurwa na siebie, ze nie potrafie nimi wszystkimi potrzasnac, ale wiecie, macochy i ryby glosu nie maja. Dziecmi, zeby ogarnely dupy, rodzicami, zeby ogarneli dupy i szkola, zeby robila to, co do nich nalezy. I nie, korki tez nie pomagaja, mialy.

Oprocz tego tak na marginesie mysle sobie, ze one w polskiej szkole to juz dawno przepadlyby z kretesem, bo oprocz tej matmy mialyby lektury do przeczytania na polski, wypracowanie do napisania, projekt na biologie, angielski dodatkowy dwa razy w tygodniu i korki przy takim braku postepu. A moze regularne sprawdzanie wiedzy i bat nad glowa jednak wyszlyby na dobre.

A wielkie prace klasowe maja tylko z niemieckiego, matmy i angielskiego, z zadnych innych przedmiotow. Testy jakies tam z geo i laciny. Choc to, ze maja malo a duze, jest bardzo zle. Zle jest tez to, ze nawet jak uwalisz dwie duze prace klasowe, i tak wyjdziesz z tutejsza 4 (nasza 2), bo przeciez byles aktywny na lekcji.

Oprocz matmy, ktora na dodatek jest strasznie topornie metodycznie uczona, wkurwia mnie geografia (ktora nazywa sie geografia i gospodarka), ale jest praktycznie sama gospodarka, bo tak przymysl kiedys postanowil i lobbuje w tle.

Wkurwia mnie podejscie rodzicow do laciny, ze biedne dzieci nie zrobily tlumaczenia i leci pala, ale sorry, jezyk jest kontinuum i nie bedzie sprawdzana tylko wiedza z ostatniego rozdzialu, tylko w tekstach sa tez starsze slowa.

Na niemieckim uwazam, ze troche jest praktycznie (jak napisac np. przepis na ciasto), choc to nie jest moim zdaniem poziom naszej klasy 6, bo to akurat mlodsza miala teraz. Wkurwia mnie to, ze nie czytaja w ogole, nie poznaja literatury.

Najlepiej chyba wypada na serio ten angielski.

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merrhea39 · 7 months

Text

The list

FICS - WEREWOLF MAMI ch 1-1

ch 1-2

ch 1-3

ch 1-4

ch 2-1

ch 2-2

ch 2-3

ch 2-4

ch 2-5 CELLMATE

ch 1-1

ch 1-2

ch 1-3

ch 2-1

ch 2-2

ch 2-3

TRANS-MASC DOMINIK

ch 1-1

ch 1-2

ch 2-1

ch 2-2

ch 3-1

ch 3-2

ch 3-3

ch 3-4

ch 4-1

ch 4-2

ch 5-1

ch 5-2

LITTLE NERD

ch 1-1

ch 1-2

ONESHOTS

Damian x Dom

NON FICS -

TJD BINGE

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

#rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe #damian priest #dominik mysterio #finn balor

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aranarumei · 8 months

Text

the anomalous agate, commentary

hello! I said I could talk about the anomalous agate forever, so here is me, talking about it. this is a post covering just like, overall notes I had when writing… maybe I’ll post about specific scenes or chapters sometimes, but I was really compelled to at least talk about overall things because unlike individual chapters, I think it’s something that’s less likely to be picked apart? so, all of that’s under the cut.

okay, first up! the biggest challenge in writing this fic was essentially, how do I make this fic feel like it’s a case from The Case Files of Jeweler Richard?

Based on the first two volumes alone, there’s a couple of things I think the series really exemplifies. First, it can examine things that are fairly mundane, and place value and importance on even small details. Second, Richard has a wide variety of knowledge, and I always read The Case Files of Jeweler Richard and come away with a new sense of the world. There’s something I, or Seigi, hadn’t really considered before, that I’m now considering. Finally, Seigi’s got all of his quirks—I didn’t try to match his exact style of narration, but I aimed to blend my own style and his in terms of vibe, and did my best to, at the very least, express his feelings accurately. So whether the wording of how he says things are exactly how he’d express it, the base emotions are correct.

To address the second point, this means that I have to talk about a wide variety of things! A lot of what the anomalous agate references is stuff I already knew of—champagne’s brand protection, Johannes Vermeer and ultramarine, The Little Prince, the commonality of dyed agate… but there’s some stuff I knew absolutely nothing about, the biggest of them being makeup and coffee. For coffee, I ended up watching quite a few bits of stuff from James Hoffman’s YouTube channel, and for makeup I watched a couple of video tutorials and read quite a few blog posts. Then I referenced Wikipedia to doublecheck any information I thought I knew. For the gems, I trawled quite a few websites, the main ones being the websites of GIA, International Gem Society, and American Gem Society. And I tried to avoid as many crystal healing websites as I could. Any inaccuracies present are my own fault.

As for why I picked coffee, a drink I don’t particularly like (though I’m a huge fan of coffee ice cream), and a subject that isn’t of necessary relevance to the rest of the story, unlike makeup, it was because I’d had a really good tiramisu crepe cake a few months ago, and thought it was such a neat form of tiramisu. It ended up being a nice choice, considering that Hanzawa and Seigi met up at a café twice!

And speaking of references! As a fun challenge, I made sure to add a reference to every single case mentioned in the first two volumes. It helped ground the fact that this was, indeed, part of The Case Files of Jeweler Richard for me, and I felt like it ended up strengthening some bits, too, but I mostly did it just because I wanted to see if I could. Some cases are mentioned multiple times, but I’ll list what I think is the first instance for every case below:

case 1-1: Coffee at a café was meant to be pleasant; I had no desire to remind myself of what it felt like to work night shift after night shift as a security guard. [ch 1] case 1-2: “When you put it that way… there’s definitely times I don’t want to say everything about myself,” I conceded, remembering how I’d felt when confronted by Mami-san’s deep, uncomfortable sense of shame. [ch 2] case 1-3: Come to think of it, he’d called himself thoughtless for selling that amethyst to Takatsuki-san, who’d been moved by the powers it was said to possess. [ch 3] case 1-4: “Department stores existed before you began working here, but only once you took an interest in diamonds did you notice the kinds of jewels they sold.” [ch 1] bonus (to wish upon a rose quartz): Remembering it now, it was hard to explain why I hadn’t had one in such a long time, but I hadn’t developed the habit of searching out cafés, bakeries, and sweet shops until I started working at Jewelry Étranger, either. [ch 1] bonus (cleopatra’s pearls): Since he’d just mentioned her, my mind flashed to Cleopatra—she was certainly an image that was out of sorts with Hanzawa. [ch 3] bonus (daily life at étranger ~ professor kunz and morgan): I hadn’t heard of moganite until now—unless I was mishearing morganite, but Richard had such wonderful pronunciation I thought that was impossible. [ch 1] case 2-1: “Well, Hajime-kun was much younger, but his circumstances were different…” [ch 1] case 2-2: Just like Yamamoto-san trying to buy herself a garnet. [ch 1] case 2-3: It was obvious in the way I’d found out about Tanimoto-san’s love for rocks and minerals, as well as her friend Shinkai-san’s dance company, or, in a more negative light, Hase-san visiting at the exact time I happened to be in the back of the shop, but when I told Richard this, he simply brushed it off. [ch 1] (technically the above is the first instance for case 2-4, too, but I’ll point out another instance) case 2-4: Though I doubted this surprise encounter would go as badly as the last one had, the sharp sense of déjà vu kept me wary. [ch 2] bonus (the serendipity of euclase): I’d only recently put my foot in my mouth by comparing us to a married couple, so I refrained from trying to make comparisons. [ch 5 / epilogue]

second! I wanted to talk a bit about some of the themes in the anomalous agate… this will probably be a bit more unstructured, but it contains some stuff I wanted to express, so I’ll to my best.

The title of this fic is the anomalous agate, and it is the stone that Hanzawa Masato ends up purchasing, but it’s not entirely what this fic is about, right? Lapis lazuli occupies a pretty big part of the chapter, and it’s an important part, too. So… why? Why have two stones, why have a title that doesn’t reflect the stone that Richard talks about, etc.?

The answer for this comes in the form of how I approached this story and how I feel about Hanzawa Masato—fundamentally, he’s a kind of tricky guy. He’s an inherently mysterious type of person, with a lot of layers and facets to him. And while I’m in love with these universes crossing over, I felt like it would be disrespectful to throw Hanzawa into the universe of The Case Files of Jeweler Richard and have him be laid completely bare. So, from the beginning, I wanted to work under the limitations that whatever change Hanzawa went through, and whatever we learned, it wouldn’t be something dramatic. And because Hanzawa’s so many things, I had another idea: as much as I could, when I introduced an idea into a fic, I’d try to make it two, instead of one. It’s an easy way to create a Hanzawa that feels properly multilayered, because making everything two things means he can’t be simple, and Hanzawa Masato is never simple. It's also an easy way to have Seigi misunderstand him in a way that shows that Hanzawa’s kind of a tough nut to crack.

...So, maybe you’re beginning to see why there’s two gems. The first chapter actually begins with a talk about authenticity, and it’s only in chapter two that Hanzawa brings up the concept of being anomalous. Both authenticity and being anomalous are topics that influence the kinds of things Hanzawa thinks about, and so do lapis lazuli and blue lace agate. Seigi realizes Hanzawa’s “something like a birthday gift” is a gift for himself, but he never once learns that Hanzawa’s birthday is in April, so it’s not for a special event at all that he’s buying this. Though I hadn’t intended it, considering that the guidebook says Hanzawa’s only got a younger sister, Seigi realizes that his older sister may not have been who taught him how to use makeup, but he doesn’t realize that Hanzawa might not even have an older sister. (This one was truly unintentional… I guess Hanzawa gets one over me, here!) Cafés are soothing, but coffee can stimulate one into sleeplessness. Seigi parallels Tashiro, and Hanzawa parallels Richard, but at the end, Seigi feels that it’s he and Hanzawa who are the similar ones. Seigi discusses the merits of concealment versus enhancement, and Hanzawa says that they’re the same thing, for him. Two things and one thing, again. Fox or prince, both are tamed. Two and one.

Essentially, I forced myself to make sure that any idea I introduced had a certain level or complexity and/or depth. I couldn’t just make a statement and then move on from it without exploring or developing it. Uniqueness, for example, is a term that gets used in quite a few ways in this story. I don’t think any of this really comes across as being intentionally a sort of “doubling,” but I think having this in mind while I wrote really forced me to be thoughtful about what I was writing.

third! I thought I’d talk in a few more specifics about when exactly this fic is set.

This happens mainly in the October of Seigi’s second year of college, which, now that I’ve read Volume 3, seems placed pretty perfectly? In case 3-1, he mentions Jewelry Étranger opened in April, and he’d been working there for six months, placing the first case around October as well… my fic ends when it’s November, but I’m still pleased by how close the time is. The reason it’s set here, of course, is because that’s when the cultural festival will be happening in Miyano’s third year. I’ve talked at length about what I see Hanzawa and Tashiro being up to around this time, particularly surrounding Tashiro crossdressing for the cultural festival, and the exploration of their relationship along with their own personal issues, and this was the perfect backdrop to set against this case. This is because I wanted Hanzawa’s changing to not be solely motivated by Seigi, so I needed sufficient events to be happening in the background that would prompt him to actually make that purchase of blue lace agate. And that’s why there’s a three-week gap between Seigi and Hanzawa meeting in that café and when he actually purchases that blue lace agate. The exact details of what happens there are vague, but the bonus scene I wrote shows at least some of it.

I’d planned to have Tashiro barely cameo in the background at first, but while I was outlining, I realized that Hanzawa was the kind of stubborn guy who needed a lot of prompting, and that Seigi wouldn’t understand half of what was going on if he’d never met Tashiro. Thus, Tashiro made an appearance, to which I’m very glad for! I think he acted as a really disarming presence for Hanzawa, and allowed Seigi, and thus, the audience, to see a lot of Hanzawa that we hadn’t been privy to before.

Here's the timeline of main events in the anomalous agate:

October 6th, 2018 — SATURDAY: Hanzawa Masato visits Jewelry Etranger for the first time. October 8th, 2018 — MONDAY: Nakata Seigi and Tanimoto Shouko have mandatory English class. October 11th, 2018 — THURSDAY: Nakata Seigi and Hanzawa Masato meet for the second time. October 12th, 2018 — FRIDAY: Kaede and Nakata Seigi wave to each other on campus. October 12th, 2018 — LATE FRIDAY: Kaede informs both Nakata Seigi and Hanzawa Masato that the senior harassing her has been expelled from the university. October 14th, 2018 — SUNDAY: Hanzawa Masato visits Jewelry Etranger for the second time. October 20th, 2018 — SATURDAY: Hanzawa Masato, Tashiro Gonzaburou, and Nakata Seigi run into each other at a cafe. November 3rd, 2018 — SATURDAY: Tashiro Gonzaburou’s last cultural festival occurs. November 10th, 2018 — SATURDAY: Hanzawa Masato visits Jewelry Etranger for the third time.

finally! some random notes I didn’t know how to categorize:

If you’re wondering who Kaede is, during the volume 5 extras, Hirano mentions this girl named Kaede that Hanzawa hangs out with often, and then asks if they’re dating. They’re not—but in ch 27, we spot him at the movies with a friend of his who’s a girl, and I’d decided that this is the Kaede Hirano mentions. That’s why she’s into movies—because that’s the only thing I could think of that’s even somewhat related to her appearance. The rest is kind of invented whole cloth… it ended up being helpful to get a kind of outside perspective on Hanzawa, so I was happy with how it turned out, and I hope it didn’t feel like she was just a boring plot device.

Also, when Hanzawa reminds Seigi that they’ve got each other’s numbers at the end, to me it’s the sort of thing like where in the early MCU movies, they’d end with getting contacted about the Avengers Initiative, or whatever… I haven’t watched them properly. But it’s a sign that like oh, stuff is going to cross over! So, for me, that’s a way of telling myself that if I ever feel like it, when I’m writing Hanzawa, he can call up Seigi, and I’ll have +20k of justification for that choice. Also, even though I said I didn’t want Seigi to be like most important life-changing person in Hanzawa’s life, I still did want them to have some of an effect on each other. And this is kind of proof of that.

edit: FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION TEMPERATURE. hanzawa's associated with the cold and tashiro's associated with warmth. thats whys seigis always shivering or feeling gusts of wind when hanzawa shows up. and why he meets tashiro on a super warm day. richard gets some description mentions aligned with cold, specifically when he's asking seigi about his bruise, and that kind of mirrors hanzawa making tashiro sit still while he pulls out the eyelash curler. only there his hands are warm because like. hanzashiro's weird.

and for anyone who read the whole thing: some images for you! first, here's a sketch page that I messed around with while writing, so I could get some visual feelings:

and here's a screenshot of what editing / writing for ch 4 looked like when I discovered the magic of track changes:

#kiri.txt #commentary #the anomalous agate #in this essay i will #dunno if this'll be interesting to anyone...?

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