#mi modelo is back

[juantinarchive]

📸 ✨✨

[webshooterrr9]

dbf!miguel staying over

i mean....... i had to eventually...

w.c: 2.6k

content warning: alcohol usage, age gap (reader is 21, Miguel is 35), smut, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight dom/sub dynamic but not really because mig is such a sweetie and reader is sassy af, teasing because mig is secretly a meanie :(, not really tho he wants it just as much as her, big scary men whimpering!!!

sorry for y'all who don't speak spanish cuz i didn't feel like adding translations because it messed up the look but dw most of it is in english

Miguel and your father have been friends since college.

When your dad needed help with homework, Miguel was there. When your dad needed someone to pass to during the game, Miguel was there. When your dad mourned the loss of your mom, taken from the world too soon, Miguel was there. There were countless nights where Miguel would tutor your dad on subjects he struggled with after missing classes to take care of you: the angel he was gifted with in high school. Although he admits you came into his life a bit too early for comfort, he has always loved and prioritized you. And Miguel quickly became your dad’s best friend because, although he never met you, he could tell just how much your father cared about you.

And so he was always there for your dad. All through college and beyond.

It wasn’t until you started college that Miguel had the pleasure of meeting you. Your dad had planned a hangout with the three of you, telling you about how important it is to have a good friend on your side, how it helped him when times got tough.

And now you’re 21 - sitting on your childhood bed after coming home from college for the summer. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Miguel since you’ve been home. When you met him three years ago, you were somewhat intimidated by him. How could you not? Look at the sheer size of that man. But you came to know through your school breaks that he was a lot more laid-back than you previously thought. You hate to admit it, but you’ve developed a slight crush on him. It’s stupid, you know, but how could you possibly resist those deep brown eyes and that smooth baritone voice that pulls you in every time?

Knock knock “Chiquita?”

You recognized that silky tone. It was Miguel.

“Yeah?” you say, putting your phone to the side. “Come in.” The doorknob twists and your door slowly creeps open. Behind it was that beautiful man: soft brown curls, slightly hidden by a backwards cap, a strong nose, dusty jeans that hug his legs just right, and a plain white tee with a gold cross dangling from a chain around his neck. Your dad’s best friend. Miguel.

He steps into your room and lingers by the door, a lazy smile across his face.  Dios… he was something else.

“¿Qué estás haciendo, mami? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

You sit up straighter, trying not to look as lousy as you feel. He came in here looking like a goddamn Roman god and you’re just sitting in your pjs. “Just scrolling,” you reply. “Trying to enjoy my time without homework.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your papi invited me over,” he says, stepping further into the room. “Just to catch up and share a few Modelos.”

You watch his arms cross over his chest, the sleeves of his tee tightening around his huge arms. “Doesn’t explain why you’re in here,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be out back with him, then?”

“What, ¿no puedo saludar a la hija de mi amigo?" he laughs. “That’s not fair.” he adds with a fake pout that makes you giggle.

“I didn’t say that,” you smile. He walks over and sits on the edge of your bed. You notice his watch gleam in the sunlight filtering through your windows. “Did you come here from work? Your shirt is dirty as hell.”

“You know how it is, beba. Being a blue collar worker is a tough job.”

You snort. “Please, being a mechanic is hardly blue collar work. You stay inside a garage all day.”

“My customers would beg to differ,” Miguel says. “You should see how many señoras come into my garage looking for a replacement for their shitty husbands.”

“Makes me feel like they’re tryna put a ring on it.” he wiggles his calloused fingers in front of you for added effect.

“Well, it makes sense,” you say. “You’re about their age anyway.”

“Oye!” he laughs. “I’m thirty-five, thank you very much. Not even close to their age.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, viejo.”

The sun had set an hour ago and he hadn’t gone home yet.

Despite the amount of times Miguel offered to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome, your father insisted he stay for “ten more minutes” and handed him another beer each time. The sound of the two men laughing from the living room kept you awake. It normally wouldn’t bother you, since you’re a night owl anyway, but you have plans with your friend tomorrow that you have to wake up early for.

You exit the comfort of your bedroom and head into the living room where you find Miguel and your dad chatting loudly on the couch. Miguel’s arm is draped over the back of the sofa, which accentuates his already defined chest - not to mention the dim lamp light casting beautiful shadows on his face.

“Ah, mija, there you are!” your father exclaims, very drunkenly. “I was wondering where you were. No te he visto en todo el día!”

“Lo siento, papi.” You reply, leaning against the wall. Miguel’s stare feels hot on your skin. You can see him through your peripheral vision, looking as handsome as ever.

“Es tarde en la noche, chiquita.” Miguel says, his words coming out slower due to all the Modelo in his system. “Why are you still up?”

“That’s exactly why I came in here; to tell you two to shut up.”

“¡Oye! Watch your mouth, mija.” your dad says sternly, while Miguel just chuckles.

“Sorry, pequeña,” Miguel says, setting his beer down on the coffee table. “We’ll keep it down. But don’t swear at your padre, yeah? Respect your elders.”

“Uh huh.” you shrug, waving the two men goodbye as you retire to your bedroom. You were sure that Miguel would still be there when you woke up in the morning, but hopefully he’ll be passed out by then and not still chatting with your dad.

----

You fall asleep almost immediately. The newly-installed fan in your room helped rid the summer heat and cool your bedroom to a comfortable temperature, while still allowing you to snuggle up under the blankets. A band tee and plain panties is all you wore, which was normal for you unless you were staying at a friend's house - at which point you’d obviously throw on some shorts. The moon shining through your windows acts as a sort of night-light, and you’re soothed to sleep by the crickets outside and the less-deafening sound of chatter from your living room.

Your alarm wakes you up around 8am, which is earlier than you normally start your day. As you go to turn off the noise, you hear a tired groan come from behind you. “Mmph… turn that off.”

You flinch and turn around, covering yourself with your blankets at the stranger in your bed. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Miguel.

“Miguel!” you whisper-shout, nudging his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He huffs and pushes his face into your pillow, and this is your first chance to get a good look at him. He’s shirtless, of course, but his muscular frame isn’t what draws you to him. His hair is tousled from sleep in a way you haven’t seen before, a grumpy pout peeking out from the pillow he’s buried his face in. He still has his gold chain around his neck, but he seems to have discarded his hat and jeans - which you see laying on your floor. You knew this man was gorgeous… but this was the most stunning you’ve ever seen him. The morning light only makes it better.

“Tu papá durmió en el sofá,” he mumbled, the sleepiness of his voice making him sound more attractive than ever. “And his room was too hot to sleep in.”

“That doesn’t explain why you decided to crawl into my bed unannounced.” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, and one of his arms slides under his pillow to prop himself up. “Cálmate, princesa. You had tons of room and it was cool in here.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

You sit up and brush the hair out of your face, trying to wake yourself up so that you can get ready. Miguel sleepily snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you back down. Your head flops on the pillow and messes up your hair once again.

“Quédate, mami. Sleep with me.” he mumbles, closing his eyes once more.

“E-Excuse me!?” Oh you were definitely blushing now. No way he just said that! You knew that he didn’t actually mean it like that… but you also knew that he wasn’t dumb. Whether his intentions were pure or not, you knew that he worded it that way on purpose. Was your silly little crush reciprocated?

He hugs you closer to him, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The cold metal of his necklace makes you shiver, especially in contrast with how hot his body is. Temperature, you mean.

“You heard me.” he doubles down.

“Do you even-”

“I know what I said, chiquita.” Miguel opens his eyes now - the lazy drawl of his voice becoming more awake and purposeful. His gaze on you is unbearable. You could feel the intensity of his stare. “And I know what I meant.”

You stare at him in silence. How could you speak? The man who you’ve had a crush on since you started college was in your bed, half naked, making a move on you. Part of you thinks that he’s waited long enough to finally do this, but another part of you feels some sort of guilt. He’s over a decade older than you, and a family friend no less. You can see through his eyes that he feels similarly, but his passion is overpowering any sense of guilt. Besides, you’re both adults. How bad could it be?

He leans over you, pinning you down onto your own mattress. A position that’s typically domineering, and yet, you can see his gaze soften uncharacteristically for him. He brushes a strand of loose hair away from your face.

“Que linda…” he mumbles, eyes trailing all over your face. “Eres tan hermosa.”

Miguel leans his face closer to yours, his gold cross dangling from his neck and touching yours. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. You’re stunned but also… excited?

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“Quiero sentirte.” you whisper, your eyes meeting his. You hear his breath catch in his throat. “Tócame. Hazme el amor.”

He chuckles, a flirty pout crossing his face. “Oh, pobrecita…” he grins, tracing your jawline with his dexterous fingers. Your face tilts up closer to his, your lips brushing as he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”

...

What?

“Why not?” he can visibly hear the disappointment in your voice. It almost makes him feel bad, especially with how beautiful you look in the morning light.

“Don’t wanna wake your papi, nena.” he caresses your face once more, leaning back a little so he can look at your face properly. “I can’t make you scream while everyone else is asleep. We have to keep this a secret. But where’s the fun in sex if I can’t hear your pretty whines, hm?”

You smack his chest. “Oh fuck off, Mig. Come here.”

Before he can respond, you grab him by his necklace and drag him down to your lips. The moment your mouths connect, it’s like fireworks going off in his head. He swears you taste better than any bizcocho he’s ever had. Miguel holds your waist as you tangle your hands through his hair, and he lets out a soft groan. His hips involuntarily rut against your thigh, and he decides he can’t take it anymore.

His hand dips between the two of you to tug your panties down, freeing your skin to his touch. His thumb lazily circles your clit, while the other calloused hand is still resting on your hips. He feels like he’s in heaven, feeling you squirm underneath him, but he knows this is only the start of the fun you’ll have together. He swallows every sound you make with his lips on yours, his tongue fighting with yours for control. He pulls his hands back once he’s sure that you’re wet and ready. You two are gasping for air by the time your lips part, and his deep eyes look into yours with a silent plea. You nod your head desperately.

Miguel makes quick work of removing what little clothes he had left on his lower body before sinking into your warmth, slowly but surely. You gasp.

He leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment of stillness. It’s like you two are in your own little bubble - no one else can interfere. He kisses you lovingly as he starts to move, silencing any moans or sighs you might have that others could hear. You’re just for him, no one else can experience you. His thrusts are slow, but agonizingly deep. You feel it deep in your core, kissing your cervix with every push of his hips forward.

“God…” he whines. “You feel so fucking good. So good for me, baby.” You arch against him, your hands dragging along his back for support. He glances down at where your two bodies connect, and the sight almost makes him pass out. “Que cosita más linda, mami.” he whispers.

“Damelo… please..” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut with all the pleasure you feel.

“I am, nena, I am. It’s all for you, princesa. I promise.”

His pace speeds up a little more, but he’s still pushing into you just as deep, “Show me you love it, baby. Mírame.”

You meet his gaze with glassy eyes, breathing heavily and nails digging into his back. You wrap your legs around his slim waist and he throws his head back at the tighter feel. “That’s it, baby. Así así…”

He’s rutting into you wildly, chasing his high. You look down to watch as his dick disappears into your cunt. The wet sounds of his hips smacking yours clouds your mind. Each roll of his hips brings you closer to the edge. “You’re so pretty, muñeca. So so pretty f’me.”

His large hands sneak under your t-shirt and grope your tits, squeezing and caressing in a way that makes you hazy. “Want you to look at me while I fill you up. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nod your head frantically, scratching the skin of his shoulders. You’ve never wanted anything more. The two of you are getting dangerously close to climax, and you swear you can hear him whimper.

“God, baby, feels so fucking good. No puedo más, no puedo más…!”

A squeal escapes you as he spills into your heat, with your own crescendo arriving shortly after. There’s a creamy white ring around his base as he starts to slow the roll of his hips. Miguel eventually stills and collapses, hugging you close in the same sort of cuddle as before, but still resting inside you.

After the exhaustion wears off, you pull back to stare into his eyes. A hand comes up to cup his face, rubbing his flushed cheek gently. “That was fucking amazing, Mig. I haven’t felt that good in so long.”

He laughs softly, returning your affectionate gaze. “Do you think your papi heard us?”

“Definitely not.” you giggle. “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“That’s good.” Miguel holds you for a few more minutes, just silently staring at you. You can’t even imagine how blissed out you must look right now, but it’s all so gorgeous to him. “Eres increíble, mi vida.”

You hum in delight, stroking his cheeks once more. “You too, mi cielo.”

... you're gonna have to cancel your plans for today.

sort of switched to Miguel's pov in the last section cuz i wanted to experiment :))))

i hope you guys liked it!! dbf!miguel inspiration from @mybvalentine

and yes... he's a mechanic. it just suits him ok??

----

webshooterrr9

[caffieneaddictt18]

Mate

werewolf x reader who works at Walmart - just meeting. Kind of random but i get bored at work sooo....

"Yo, yo, yo, what's poppin?" I ask as I approach a couple with a baby, probably in their late 20s. My hand is already blindly grabbing for my name badge.

"Hi!" The woman says smiling, "The machine just stopped and said something about a scale. I'm just trying to weigh my zucchini."

The man next to her nods as he plays with the baby, as to back her up. I don't necessarily care.

My shins are starting to hurt... I thought the new ortho shoes would help...

My hands go through the practiced motion of taking whatever was on the scale off, pressing the button for zucchini, and then weighing it. Aka, the only way to weigh your produce that doesn't throw the machine into a hissy-fit.

"Easy-peasy," I slap on my customer service voice like the passed on Queen of England decided to step into Wal-Mart, "Just make sure to press the button beforehand, and then weigh the produce. And it's so funky." I try to make it relatable for the woman, "Some produce needs to be weighed and others need to be counted. It gets confusing." I smile and see her smiling in relief, thankful that someone understands her.

Someone does but it aint me. This is my whole ass job.

I smile and say the unforgettable 'Have a great day!' before leaving and having to walk around the self-check.

New big boss gonna fire me if I stop walking... fucking bullshit. I see a toy that was placed on a chip shelf and mess with it as I go to put it away.

"Hey! Hey! Girl!" Someone snaps their fingers at me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, smiling a smile that would put Alastor to shame.

"Hello! What seems to be the problem today?" My customer service voice is getting strained as I see it's just an old man wanting to buy alcohol.

"The machine will need you to check my age when I buy this alcohol." He gestures to the cart that has it's undercarriage filled with Modelo.

I look at his order on his screen and scroll through it. "Well, sir, it looks like you haven't scanned it yet, so I can't give you the go ahead; But once you do, I can definitely give you the go ahead to buy it." I throw it back in his face, trying to make him feel as stupid as possible. He scoffs and takes the hand scanner off the terminal and it starts beeping loudly at him.

"Stop yelling at me!" He shouts, frustrated that it won't stop beeping and won't scan his beer.

"Well, sir, it is a machine, so it can't yell at you. It doesn't have a mouth. It's just beeping because the batteries are going out, but you can definitely wait until the hand scanner flashes green, and then it should work." I patiently wait for him to put it back on the terminal. And once it flashes green, he scans the beer.

The first notification, asking if the customer looks younger than 40, pops up. I look back at the man and size him up and down before pressing 'No'.

"Have a great day, sir!" I bounce away and continue walking around. I see a group of men who are all standing around quietly, just simply waiting. Their light is flashing red and they are being silent. It's definitely a nice change.

I walk over. "Hey there. Sorry to bother you, but I gotta fix this. Sorry." I look at the screen... and it's a mis-scan. My boss is gonna hate me...

"Sorry about the wait, guys! It's been a busy day." I think back to when someone dropped a whole gallon of whole milk and it leaked into the aisle next to it. We had to use two whole things of spill clean-up... my anxiety has been high ever since. Could also just be the 5 Hour Energy and Redbull I chugged, but meh.

"No problem. I could tell." The obvious leader of their band of friends talks, as if talking for the whole group. One of the guys has a faint blush on his face and the others are laughing, talking about their plans.

I watch the little video the camera produced and determine that it was just an old bag crossing over the scanner without being scanned... cuz it is an old bag.

"Oops. Looks like it's just the bag. The machine must've just gotten confused. Sorry about that." I smile and wave before giving them the go-ahead to keep scanning.

"No worries. Thank you."

"Anytime."

I think back to the one guy who was blushing and leaning on the cart's handle. He's kinda cute... and hot. What the fuck.

Meh whatever. Just focus on work- I did it, I did, I jumped-

"Hey! Girl! I need you to ring up my groceries for me!" I silently sigh and walk over.

"Of course, sir!"

Another day in the life of a person at Wal-Mart.

__________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

Im ngl, i thought about this while I was changing prices in the cigarette cases. It took 4 hours to do all of the price changes😭

[danielbeltrans2]

¡Finalmente, luego de pasar las últimas semanas retomando el desarrollo del modelo 3D, y de pasar los últimos días haciendo los renders (los cuales todavía faltan por terminar por completo) y sus sitios para comprarlo, Chopper de Star Wars ya está listo!

Me tomó más tiempo del que esperaba configurar todo para poder estrenarlo el día de hoy en mis tiendas de Ko-fi, Itch.io y Gumroad como prometí, pero ya están disponibles para comprar las dos versiones de este personaje (con y sin rig).

Espero que le puedan mostrar mucho apoyo a este modelo 3D, porque le metí mucha dedicación y esmero porque saliera bien. Si no pueden comprar alguna de las versiones que tengo disponibles, con compartir los enlaces directos para comprar el producto me ayudan muchísimo para hacer que llegue a más personas.

Algún día espero poder dedicarme exclusivamente a hacer modelos 3D, y estoy poniendo este año un mayor esfuerzo para traer más y mejores modelos 3D para vender, así que cualquier apoyo que me puedan brindar, ya sea monetario (con donaciones o comprando alguno de mis productos) como de difusión y con sus likes/corazones/favoritos, compartidos y seguimientos a mis cuentas es de mucho agradecer.

Por último, les dejo los enlaces para que puedan adquirir el personaje con un 15% de descuento por su estreno, el cual estará disponible hasta el 11 de Mayo antes de medianoche. No se pierdan esta oportunidad:

Bueno, es todo por ahora.

Recuerden visitar mis otras redes sociales para ver más del contenido que subo (que, por cierto, quizá cambie mi agrupador de enlaces por uno más estilizado):

linktr.ee/DanielBeltranS2

Los invito a pasarse también por las tiendas que tengo en algunas redes sociales y ver qué tengo para ofrecer. Compartan también los artículos que más les llamen la atención de mis tiendas para que más gente se entere de lo que estoy vendiendo, se los voy a agradecer .

Muchísimas gracias por ver este render, y nos vemos en la siguiente publicación. Hasta la Bye-Bye.

Finally, after spending the last few weeks getting back to work on the development of the 3D model, and spending the last few days making the renders (which are still to be completely finished) and your sites to buy it, Chopper from Star Wars is ready!

It took me longer than expected to get everything set up so I could release him today in my Ko-fi, Itch.io and Gumroad stores as promised, but both versions of this character (with and without rig) are now available for purchase.

I hope you can show a lot of support to this 3D model, because I put a lot of dedication and care to get it right. If you can't buy any of the versions I have available, sharing the direct links to buy the product will help me a lot to make it reach more people.

Someday I hope to dedicate myself exclusively to making 3D models, and I'm putting this year a greater effort to bring more and better 3D models to sell, so any support you can give me, either monetary (with donations or buying any of my products) and dissemination and with your likes/hearts/favorites, shared and following my accounts is much appreciated.

Lastly, I leave you the links so you can purchase the character with a 15% discount for its release, which will be available until May 11 before midnight. Don't miss this opportunity:

https://itch.io/s/152532/chopper-3d-model-launch-sale

Well, that's all for now.

Remember to visit my other social networks to see more of the content I upload (which, by the way, I might change my link grouper for a more stylized one):

linktr.ee/DanielBeltranS2

I invite you to also visit the stores I have in some social networks and see what I have to offer. Also share the items that catch your attention in my stores so that more people know about what I'm selling, I will be grateful.

Thank you very much for checking out this post, and I'll see you in the next post. Hasta la Bye-Bye.

[mjonthetrack]

vice: book v

Chapter 7: Bombas de Tiempo

It wasn’t even the kiss.

It was the sound.

The moan.

Soft. Muffled. But hers.

That moan had teeth. History. It belonged to him—not that clean-cut, bare-chested, lotion-smelling-ass man-boy she was entertaining.

Zilla was halfway through a Modelo and ignoring everybody when he saw Dulce disappear into the house. She was still barefoot, sand stuck to her ankles, gold anklet swinging. Kai followed behind her like he had permission.

That’s what made Zilla move.

He didn’t think.

He didn’t ask.

He stalked across the lawn like something was pulling him. Jaw tight. Eyes black. Whole body vibrating like it had something to prove.

No one stopped him. Maybe they knew better. Maybe they saw what was coming and didn’t wanna catch that stray.

He stepped into the hallway leading to the guest rooms and heard it—low at first. Then clearer. A sound he knew like his own breath. Dulce. Laughing. Whispering something filthy in Spanish, right before—

“Mmm… damn, Dulce—”

Zilla’s blood went white hot.

His heart didn't even beat normal—it snapped.

And when he turned the corner?

There they were.

In the doorway to one of the guest rooms. Light spilling over her half-naked body. She was straddling Kai’s lap, facing him, arms around his shoulders. Her curly hair was wild down her back, and her bikini top was barely clinging to a nipple. She was moaning into Kai’s neck, giggling like she was in love.

Like she wasn’t Zilla’s.

Zilla didn’t speak.

Didn’t knock.

Didn’t give a damn about reality.

He moved.

Kai never saw it coming. One second he was grabbing Dulce’s ass and whispering some soft boy sweet nothing, the next Zilla snatched him clean off the floor with a roar so deep it shook the walls.

Boom.

Kai’s back slammed against the wall. Dulce screamed, trying to pull Zilla off, but he was gone—lost in it.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Zilla snarled, nose to nose with Kai, his gold grill gleaming. “You think you could touchher? Kiss her? Like she ain’t got somebody already?”

“¡Estás loco!” Dulce yelled, trying to wedge herself between them. “You lost your fuckin’ mind! Get off him!”

Zilla didn’t budge.

“Say it,” he barked at her, ignoring Kai like he was nothing. “Say you don’t belong to me. Say you don’t be beggin’ for this dick every time you mad. Say it.”

“¡Tú no eres mi dueño!” she shouted, wild-eyed, shoving him. “You ain’t my man! You ain’t shit but a problem!”

Zilla finally let go of Kai, letting him drop like garbage.

And then?

He grabbed Dulce by the back of the neck and kissed her.

Hard. Possessive. Like punishment and prayer all at once.

She fought it for a second. Clawed at his shirt. Cursed into his mouth in all three languages.

Then melted.

Right there, in front of the dazed Kai, in the damn hallway.

When he broke the kiss, he bit her bottom lip with a growl, panting against her.

“You mine,” he whispered dark. “Even when you not.”

Dulce slapped the shit out of him.

And Zilla?

He licked his lip where she’d busted it and grinned.

“Don’t make me prove it again.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“Don’t ever—EVER—touch what’s mine again, fake ass K-drama extra—”

“¡MALDITO ESTÚPIDO DE MIERDA!*” Dulce lunged, wild curls flying, her fists balled, face flushed with rage. “You out your fuckin’ mind, Zilla?! ¡COÑO! That man didn’t do SHIT to you! You always tryna ruin some shit just because you can’t stand seein’ somebody else make me smile?!”

Zilla’s lip was busted from Kai’s weak-ass attempt at fighting back, but he grinned anyway, blood on his teeth like candy. He didn’t care. Not about the party. Not about the guests. Not about her yelling. Not even about Kai dragging himself off the floor.

Because her pupils were blown.

Her chest was rising fast.

And she was screaming at him like she felt something.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone, ma,” Zilla growled, licking blood from his teeth. “Keep yellin’ like that, and I might think you missed me.”

“You psychotic, Samoan menace of a man—”

“Say it slower.”

“¡Me cago en tu puta madre!”

“Whatever that means, I’m into it,” he smirked, stepping closer. “You done playin’ house with your little daycare boyfriend or what?”

“Zilla, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

Her scream turned feral as she launched herself at him. Only Marsai’s quick arms wrapped around her from behind kept her from clawing his face. Nadia was grabbing one arm, Tamika the other, all three women dragging her back as she fought like a hurricane in a bikini and rage.

“LET ME GO! I’m gonna kill this Samoan gorilla! I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Kai was coughing, holding his ribs, but Zilla didn’t even spare him a second glance. He was too busy watching Dulce. Too busy loving how mad she got. Too busy loving that she still looked like sin with one strap off her shoulder and fire in her eyes.

The front door burst open—Jacob, Jey, Jimmy, and Sefa coming in hot after the shouts. One look at Zilla’s busted lip, the toppled furniture, Kai looking like a cautionary tale—and they knew.

“Aiga, chill the fuck out!” Jacob’s voice snapped like a gunshot. “We got kids outside!”

Jey grunted, already grabbing Zilla by the arm. “Come on, lil’ bruh—”

“GET OFF ME!” Zilla tried to yank away, adrenaline still spiking. “Let him get one more move in and I swear—”

“Uce , move!” Jimmy shoved him back. “Outside. Now.”

It took all three cousins to wrangle him toward the exit, even as he shouted over his shoulder, “You kiss him again, Dulce, I swear—I’m fuckin’ you on the roof next!”

“¡VETE AL INFIERNO, MALDITO DEMONIO!”

She was still fighting the girls, her cheeks soaked, eyes blazing, one flip-flop lost, looking like chaos incarnate. Like war. Like heartbreak and heat and hood fairy tales.

And Zilla?

He had never wanted her more.

Chapter 9: Chanclas & Chaos

The door slammed behind the storm.

Zilla was being dragged backwards by three grown Samoan men like a damn lion on a leash, his arms still twitching to throw another punch, blood still slick on his lip, but his eyes? His eyes never left her.

Dulce stood in the foyer, chest rising like thunder. Her curls were wild, her lipstick smeared, her soul vibrating with rage and humiliation. She could still taste Kai’s lips and feel Zilla’s fist connect with his face like it happened inside her.

The women around her were still trying to soothe her, rub her arms, shush her, like she was some delicate little flower.

“Mami, breathe.”

“Nah, it’s not worth it—”

“Girl, please. You know how he is.”

Dulce smiled.

Not a nice smile. Not a sane smile.

A soft, eerie one.

“I’m good,” she said sweetly. “I’m okay now. Swear to God.”

Tamika narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious. “You good like… cry-in-the-car good? Or good like throw-hands good?”

“I said I’m fine, coño.”

She gave a little laugh. A shrug. Blew out a calming breath and tugged her curls into a loose knot. Marsai let her go first. Then Nadia. Then finally, Tamika gave her a side-eye, then released her arm.

That was their mistake.

Because the second Dulce was free?

She snatched up the nearest flip-flop like a weapon of war, stormed through the back patio—ignoring the gasps, the startled stares, the aunties sipping tea in silence—and launched it.

The chancla cracked Zilla dead in the back of his skull with sniper-level precision.

Pop!

“Ow, bitch—”

“YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!”

And she was on him.

Before anyone could blink, Dulce had sprinted across the yard and tackled Zilla to the ground like she played linebacker for the Dolphins. They rolled in the grass, guests scattering around them like pigeons, kids shrieking, a cup of mac salad flying into the air.

Zilla landed on his back, dazed for all of half a second—before Dulce straddled him, one leg on each side of his hips, and started swinging.

SLAP.

“¡COÑO!”

SLAP.

“¡ESTÚPIDO! ¡LOCO! ¡PSICÓPATA DE MIERDA!”

SLAP.

Her tiny hand connected with his face over and over, each smack echoing like a gunshot. He didn’t block it. Didn’t fight her off. He grinned. Like the sick bastard he was. Every time her palm connected, his head jerked, but he was smiling up at her like she was giving him head in front of Jesus.

“You done yet, mama?”

“NO I’M NOT FUCKING DONE!”

SLAP.

“Keep callin’ me crazy like you ain’t the one who liked it—”

“¡Me gusta romperte la cara, CABRÓN!”

Zilla’s gold grill glinted as he laughed, grabbing her waist to stop her from falling off.

“Keep cussin’ me out in Spanish like that—makes my dick hard.”

“You need THERAPY!”

“I need you to shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

The whole backyard was frozen—kids halfway through juice boxes, uncles watching with their phones out, aunties whispering prayers, and the rest of the Fatus caught somewhere between jumping in and betting money.

Sefa took a step forward. “Ayo—should we—?”

“No,” Jacob muttered, arms crossed. “This… this gotta happen.”

“Again?” Jey groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “They just fought last week!”

Jimmy sighed. “Bro, she literally hit him with a chancla. I ain’t seen that shit since Tía Tina and her ex in ‘03.”

Meanwhile, Dulce was panting, her fists shaking, hair stuck to her damp forehead. Still sitting on him. Still cussing him out between clenched teeth.

And Zilla?

Zilla looked like he’d just been kissed by the devil and baptized in her fury.

“Get. Off. Me,” she hissed.

“You sure?” His voice was low, eyes sliding down her thighs. “’Cause you grindin’ on me like you tryna make another scene.”

“You ruined my date.”

“You ruined me, baby.”

Dulce blinked.

Paused.

Then slapped him one more time, hard as hell.

And stormed off barefoot across the grass, curls bouncing, still cussing in Spanish under her breath.

Zilla stayed on the ground, hand over his cheek, laughing like he’d just won the fucking lottery.

Chapter 10: Dance With the Fuckin’ Devil

The tequila hit.

Not like a shot. Like a whole crash. Like a wave. A slap. A scream muffled into a kiss that wasn’t supposed to mean shit.

Dulce stood alone in the massive, high-ceiling kitchen of the Fatu compound, sweat cooling on her skin, the bass from her speaker rolling through the tiles like thunder. The barbecue had moved toward night—cousins outside still loud, the scent of grilled meat and cigars fading into ocean air—but inside?

It was her war zone now.

“Debe’ tirar más foto’, baby, pa’ que no se te olvide…”

Bad Bunny’s voice was dragging through the speakers like a silk scarf over a blade, low and grimy. The kind of song that made your mouth run slick and your spine curve before you knew what your body was saying.

And she was dancing. Alone. Hips swinging, barefoot in the middle of the tile, tequila pooling in her stomach like rage. Her cover-up was gone. Just the black bikini now. Black like her mood. Black like his eyes.

She didn’t want to think about Zilla. She shouldn’t have thought about Zilla.

But she did. Even when Kai kissed her. Even when she kissed him harder just to prove a point. Even when Kai’s hands touched her like she was soft, like he was asking permission instead of taking what he wanted.

She was still fucking thinking about him.

“¡Coño, Dulce, eres una estúpida por esto!” she barked at herself mid-turn, eyes wet, mouth twisted. “Te metes con el diablo y esperas no quemarte…”

She took a swig of the bottle. Gold tequila. Straight, no chaser. Her body rolled with the rhythm, thick thighs swaying, that waist made for sin twisting with every step.

She was crying and she was dancing. And she was fucking gorgeous doing both.

Then the kitchen doorway swallowed up the light.

She didn’t see him at first—but her body knew. Knew before her eyes did. That hum in the air? That heat crawling up her spine?

Zilla.

He leaned there, shirtless. Broad chest bruised and glittering with sweat. Chain on his neck. That Samoan build all menace, eyes locked on her with that sick grin, that hungry lip still split from earlier.

She spun on him, hair wild, cheeks flushed. She pointed at him mid-song.

“Don’t even start. I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

He didn’t speak.

Not yet.

Just stepped forward, slow, like a storm pretending to be a man. Like a sin wearing sneakers.

The song kept playing, low and filthy.

“Dice que nadie como yo, que nadie te lo va a hacer así…”

She spun away from him, flicked her hips spitefully, still dancing, arms above her head now.

“Go back outside, loco. Go fight the wind or headbutt a wall or whatever it is you do when your ego gets bruised.”

But he was close now.

Real close.

And when she turned again, he caught her.

Rough hands on her hips. Grip solid, fingers digging in like she was a rhythm he already knew by heart. He pulled her into him—low, close, tighter than she’d let Kai all night.

Her gasp caught in her throat.

“I said don’t—”

“Shut up,” he growled against her neck, voice low and rough, “and dance.”

She should’ve pushed him.

Instead?

She let her body melt. Right into his. Like always.

Like fucking always.

His hand slid to the small of her back. He rolled his hips against hers, slow and obscene. Proper. Like someone who wasn’t asking. Who knew what that body of hers could do. What it needed.

And God, she hated him.

But she danced.

Let him lead.

Let him grip.

Let him show her just how stupid that pretty boy Kai had looked—touching her like she was precious, like she needed handling.

Zilla wasn’t gentle.

Zilla claimed.

And to the sound of Bad Bunny’s DtMF, Dulce let herself fall back into the trap with her eyes open and her jaw clenched.

She hated how good it felt. She hated that he knew it. She hated that even after kissing another man, even after the screaming, the cussing, the punches—

This was still where her body came home.

Right here.

In the devil’s arms.

“I should stab you,” she hissed into his ear, nails digging into his shoulder.

“After this dance,” he whispered back, rolling his hips against hers like a threat. “Then you can kill me.”

Chapter 11: La Diabla y El Maldito

The devil never knocked.

And neither did la diabla.

By the time anyone realized Dulce was gone again, she had already slipped barefoot through the hallway, tequila bottle clutched like a weapon, her lips swollen from biting down screams. Her body still thrummed from that fucked-up dance in the kitchen—her thighs still slick with the heat of Zilla's hands, her neck branded from where his breath had lingered like smoke.

She wasn’t running.

Nah.

She was hunting.

She caught him outside, near the back patio, where the boys had started crowding around a fresh grill and smoke cut through the island breeze. Zilla was posted up like nothing happened, shirtless, like he wasn’t just dragging his tongue down her throat five minutes ago. Like he didn’t have her hips bucking in time with that nasty-ass song.

And that motherfucker smirked when he saw her.

That was it.

Her vision went red.

“¡Mira, maldito hijo de puta—!”

She let the bottle fly.

It didn’t hit him—barely missed his head and cracked hard against the stone patio.

Everyone flinched. Heads turned. Voices shot up in five directions. But Zilla? He just raised an eyebrow and cracked his neck like he wanted the war.

She charged.

“No me toques!” she shrieked when Sefa tried to hold her back. “Let me go, cabrón!”

Leilapua gasped. Marsai cussed. Nadia screamed for someone to help, but it was too late—Dulce was already on him.

She launched at Zilla like her name was vengeance.

Tackled him so hard they hit the lawn. Her thighs straddled his hips. Her palm hit his cheek—once, twice, three times—and her nails dragged down his chest before someone yelled her name.

“¡¿Quién te crees que eres, psycho-ass hijo de—!?”

“You done?” Zilla growled, lip bleeding again, that same sick grin on his face.

She hit him again.

Because no, she wasn’t done.

The boys jumped in fast—Jimmy and Jacob dragging Zilla out from under her like he was a rabid dog, his laughter echoing across the yard while she was still kicking, still yelling, her curls wild and stuck to her wet cheeks.

“PUTO! I hope your dick falls off, ugly-ass demon!”

“You was singin' on it not that long ago,” Zilla shouted back, grinning even as Jacob yanked him back toward the house. “Singin’ like Beyoncé, baby. Don’t play with me now!”

“¡Vete pa’l carajo, cabrón!”

Dulce spat on the grass, chest heaving.

The compound was stunned silent.

Nadia stood by the porch with wide eyes. Leilapua looked like she might faint. The aunties were inside, but they’d heard.

And Dulce?

She stood there with one broken sandal, lip trembling, tequila breath hot as hell, eyes shining like she was ready to set the world on fire and light a blunt off the flames.

Because love?

This wasn’t love.

This was obsession.

Possession.

A war in the shape of a dance that neither of them ever fucking left.

And everyone around them was finally realizing—these two?

They weren’t falling.

They were freefalling. Straight into hell.

Together.

Chapter 12: Noches de Infierno

There was nothing soft about the night.

No breeze to soothe her skin, no ocean lullaby to calm her heart. Just bass still thudding faint from inside the house and the aftertaste of tequila licking the back of her throat like regret.

Dulce stood in the outdoor shower stall behind the guesthouse, barely lit by one flickering bulb. Water poured over her body, steam rising as it met her skin. Her curls were heavy and wild down her back, her mascara bleeding down her cheeks like war paint. She let it.

She wasn’t crying.

Fuck that.

She was burning.

And when she turned around and found him there—leaned up against the wooden fence, one hand dragging down his face, knuckles still split from the scuffle earlier—it was already too late.

They were locked into hell together.

“Don’t start,” she warned hoarsely, arms crossed over her chest, bare except for the thin bralette clinging to her from the water.

Zilla stepped in anyway, quiet, slow, eyes glowing like smoke.

“I ain’t say shit yet.”

“Good,” she bit out. “Keep it that way.”

But he didn’t. He never did.

“You really let him touch you like that?” he asked, low and venomous. “Let that corny-ass pretty boy put his hands all over what’s mine?”

“I ain’t yours, cabrón,” she snarled, taking one step forward, toe to toe, water still dripping down her thighs. “And you ain't got a damn right to act like you didn’t have me all over that kitchen five songs ago.”

Zilla’s jaw clenched.

And then he grabbed her.

Hard.

He slammed her back against the wet wood, mouth crushed against hers like he was trying to erase any trace of Kai from her lips. Like he wanted to own her. Not gently. Not sweet.

Desperate. Territorial. Fucking animalistic.

She kissed him back just as hard.

Teeth, tongue, heat. She bit him. Scratched down his stomach. He grunted, one arm sliding under her thigh, lifting her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, fingers tangled in his hair, mouth pressed to his ear.

“Te odio,” she whispered. “I hate you so much, pendejo.”

He growled. “Yeah. Say that shit again.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Good,” he breathed, dragging his lips down her neck. “Hate me harder.”

They didn’t fuck like they loved each other.

They fucked like they were trying to ruin each other.

Wet, furious, mouths muffled by each other’s skin, their moans caught between cusses and insults. He had her pressed against the wall like he was trying to leave dents, and she clawed down his back like she wanted to carve her name into him. Every roll of his hips made her cuss in Spanish. Every breathy moan that escaped her lips made him hold her tighter.

“Fuck, Dulce.”

“Más. Give it to me, Zilla—don’t you fucking stop.”

And he didn’t.

Not until her legs were shaking. Not until her body went limp against him, her face tucked in his neck, both of them gasping like survivors.

Not lovers.

Not soulmates.

Just… them.

A warzone of obsession and sweat and fire.

And when he finally carried her into the guesthouse and laid her on the bed, she didn’t tell him to leave.

But she didn’t ask him to stay either.

She just laid there, staring at the ceiling, nails still dug into the sheets, lips swollen and thighs sore, whispering a single word to herself in the dark:

“Maldito.”

Chapter 13: If We Die, We Die

The sun wasn’t even halfway up when Dulce saw it.

There he was. On his story. Grinning.

Like he hadn’t just wrecked her in a pool of steam and dirty promises.

Zilla. Shirtless in a dark club, mouth gold with fresh grills, arms spread wide like a menace, surrounded by strippers. One with her whole ass planted on his lap, glitter glinting off her inner thighs. Another was damn near licking his ear.

And he? Smiled straight into the camera. Eyes low, smug as hell. Like he wanted her to see.

The caption?

“Mood: Blessed 😈🖤”

That did it.

Dulce didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even blink.

She slid her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, finished applying her lip gloss in the mirror, and walked out the guesthouse like a woman with a spa appointment.

What she actually had?

A plan.

An hour later, three of his Escalades sat sweating under the sun. All blacked out. Chrome gleaming. Parked where only someone with a vendetta would know to find them.

She rolled up slow in her rental, music blasting loud enough to shake the dashboard. Slid out in biker shorts, a crop top, and sneakers—looking fine as hell for a woman on a mission of destruction.

First, the tires. Four each. Twelve total.

One by one, she stabbed a long screwdriver straight through the sidewalls, her lip curled in a twisted smile. The hiss of air escaping sounded like justice.

Then came the door handles. She worked like an artist—crack, pop, snap—until she had nine smooth, severed chrome handles stacked neatly in her passenger seat like trophies. Left the driver side alone.

He was gonna need one way in.

She got back to the Fatu compound around noon. Birds chirped. Aunties laughed somewhere inside. The ocean was calling.

She strolled in light as breeze, dropped all nine handles onto his pillow, wiped a speck of sweat from her cheek, and headed straight for the beach.

By the time Zilla’s phone lit up with his car alarm notifications and someone FaceTimed him in a panic, Dulce was already laid out in a neon bikini, ass to the sun, big shades hiding her sins, and a pink drink in hand.

She threw it back to Megan Thee Stallion like she hadn’t just committed vehicular homicide. Laughing with the girls. Letting Leilapua rub her baby bump next to her. Acting like a whole saint.

“Didn’t even slash the paint,” she said, sipping. “See? That’s restraint.”

The cousins? They were already whispering. Jey and Jimmy tried not to look impressed. Jacob rubbed his face like a man too old for this shit. Tamika just choked on her drink.

And when Zilla stormed back onto the property hours later?

Dripping rage, covered in road dust, and missing every door handle except his own?

Dulce didn’t even flinch. She just smiled wide, licked sugar off her straw, and blew him a kiss from her beach chair.

“Next time, tag me, perro sucio.”

Chapter 14: Grillz & Get Backs

He was still halfway drunk when he stepped outside.

The sun was disrespectfully bright, the hangover from the night before clanging behind his eyes, and his phone wouldn’t shut up—notifications from the security system, his cousins, a few "ayo you good?" texts.

Isayah "Zilla" Fatu blinked behind his sunglasses, bare chest inked up, basketball shorts slung low on his hips, hair messy from the night’s sin. The last thing he expected?

Silence.

Too quiet.

His jaw flexed the moment he saw it. His steps slowed.

First Escalade—flat. All four tires, fucked. Not deflated. Executed. Sidewalls stabbed through with the kind of precision that said, this wasn't rage. This was revenge.

He stopped. Tilted his head. His gold grill caught the sun when he clenched.

Second Escalade—same fate. Third—oh, she was thorough.

But it wasn’t until he reached for the passenger door and no handle was there that his face really twitched.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way…”

He went to the next one. Gone. Next—gone. Door after door, ripped clean like someone wanted him to suffer creatively.

Only one door untouched: the driver’s side on the last truck.

He stood there in the heat, lips parted, blinking at it all.

It was poetic. Psychotic. Her.

He didn't even yell. Didn’t cuss. He just nodded slowly, nostrils flared, veins in his neck flexing.

“Bet.”

Because it wasn’t just about the vehicles.

It was about her. Her sand-slicked hips grinding on that clean-cut, soft-ass Kai dude. Her moans. That kiss. That goddamn guest room doorway where he’d seen the one person who knew how to ruin him giving someone else her mouth.

Nah. Nah.

Zilla cracked his neck, got in his one working door like a man crawling into his own coffin, and peeled off back to the compound.

The second he stepped onto the sand, the women clocked him.

Jey and Jimmy were posted up under an umbrella, sipping drinks and pretending they didn’t see the devil walking in.

Tamika lowered her sunglasses, sucked her teeth.

“Y’all better hide the knives.”

There she was.

La Dulce. In a lime green bikini, legs stretched out, throwin’ it back to Megan like she hadn’t just performed grand theft chrome.

She looked over her shoulder, smirked, and sipped her pink drink slow.

“Next time,” she purred, “tag me, perro sucio.”

Zilla didn’t flinch.

He walked right up to her, towering, eyes blazing. Grill gleaming. Body radiating heat like a lit stove.

“You slashed all my shit, mami?”

She didn’t blink.

“Just the tires. I was gentle with the doors.”

He blinked once. Laughed without humor. Then bent down close, real close—nose damn near grazing her cheek as he whispered with his jaw locked tight:

“You gon’ need your own fuckin’ handles when I’m done with you.”

And just like that—chaos loomed again.

Chapter 15: Whole Lotta Handles

It was night by the time it happened.

The Fatu compound had mellowed into post-beach haze—kids passed out from sun exhaustion, the aunties inside fussing over leftovers, and the women laughing, buzzed, still glowing in their swimsuits and sarongs.

Dulce was stretched out in a hammock, curls wild and damp from saltwater, wearing one of Tamika’s oversized T-shirts tied at her waist. She was mid-laugh, sipping from a wine glass, retelling how she finessed the last chancla throw without chipping a nail.

Then she heard the crunch.

Not sand. Not footsteps.

Glass.

The living room window.

Everyone froze.

Then came the honk—three obnoxious blasts.

Jey stood up too fast. “Yo—what the fuck—”

Marsai’s mouth dropped open. “No he didn’t—”

The women rushed to the front just in time to see it.

Zilla.

In her car.

Her black-on-black baby. Her ride. The Toyota Camry with the Puerto Rican flag hanging from the rearview and the rosary she kept looped around the shifter.

He was leaned back, grill gleaming under the dome light, one tattooed arm out the window holding a bundle of her wigslike trophies. Her favorite curly unit, the straight jet-black, and that ginger bob that had every man at the last luau drooling.

He revved the engine. Loud.

“You like playing, right Dulcecita? Cool. I play too.”

He peeled off.

Tires screamed. Sand flew. Auntie’s planters by the driveway? Gone. Mango tree? Hit. Her fucking bumper? Dragging.

Her jaw unhinged.

“OH, THIS PSYCHO—”

She was already barefoot and bolting before Tamika grabbed her.

“Dulce!”

“¡SU PUTA MADRE! I’M GONNA MURDER THAT CRAZY ASS MARICON—ZILLA STOP MY FUCKING CAR—”

She made it ten feet before Jey scooped her off the ground like a linebacker mid-rage.

Zilla circled back just to do donuts on the front lawn, throwing dust and shredded grass into the air like confetti.

And right before he sped off into the night, leaving a trail of exhaust and utter disrespect behind, he tossed something from the car window.

It spun in the air, caught the porch light—

Her edge control.

Unopened.

Still cold.

“BITCH I’M COMING FOR YOU!”

The whole compound exploded.

Sefa dropped to his knees wheezing. Jacob walked back inside like he’d seen enough. Jimmy was doubled over on the cooler. Marsai had to sit down before she peed herself. Even the aunties were laughing too hard to scold anyone.

And Dulce?

She was vibrating.

Hair wild, cheeks blotchy, rage painting her in high-definition color as she screamed into the night.

“WHEN I CATCH YOU—IT’S ON SIGHT. ZILLA! ON. FUCKING. SIGHT!”

She turned, still breathing like a bull, and Tamika handed her a shot of something strong without a word.

She threw it back.

“We getting his ass.”

“Damn right.”

[veterancavalier]

Me la he liado con Winona Ryder, ha fisgoneado sin permiso en mi celular, se ha enojado porque encontró en mi buscador el blog de Arenadeplaya, le he dicho que eso es tóxico y que no sea invasiva, que ojos que no ven corazón que no siente, me ha mandado a cazar caracoles y me ha echado a patadas de la casa, de momento soy Thomas Anderson venciendo los límites de mi mente y la realidad esquivando en cámara lenta los platos que ha lanzado Winona, uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco puto platos, vaya nena, pienso, tú si que pareces sacada de una novela de Bukowski, o de una película de Scott Ridley y no le digo más para no agravar la situación, me empiezo a retirar sin dar la espalda por si debo esquivar más objetos, pero está encabronada por que no pudo atinar ni un solo plato, se le ve en la mirada, la pierdo por un momento de vista y ahí está, ha empezado a lanzar mi ropa por la ventana habitación que da hacía la calle y mierda, le digo que no me importa, que voy a ser la imagen de una marca de ropa acme registrada y que no voy a sufrir por eso y, runaway train never goin back. Me echo a correr, wrong way a one-way track, a escapar lo más pronto de la situación y runaway train, burning in my veins.

Candelaria sale enseguida ofuscada por la gritería y el bullicio de la situación, dice que qué problema, que los dos estamos demasiado jodidos de la cabeza, que necesitamos terapia y que es muy difícil vivir con arrendatarios así, pero lo dice por Winona más que por mi, por que en seguida me alcanza y me pregunta que en donde voy a empezar a hacer la entrevista para aplicar a lo de ser modelo de alguna marca de ropa acme registrada, nos vamos por el malecón hasta el puente pequeño con cubierta, nos sentamos a leer 20 poemas de amor y yo toco en guitarra una canción bastante desesperada, encendemos un par de cigarros mientras nos tomamos el cuarto de vodka que eché en la cantimplora antes de que Winona se diera cuenta. Candelaria me empieza a echar cuentos y yo me elevo, le digo que sí, que que chimba parce, que ojalá estuviéramos en el monumental con los borrachos del Tablón, y que Gutierrez se marcara un hat-trick, se fuera haciendo la señal de la banda y se le fueran todos encima pero no pueden con Almehyda ese tipo es duro, una combinación de jab, uper y un buen hook y ya se deshizo de tres, reímos a carcajadas y todo se calma un poco.

[nickgerlich]

Adiós Mis Amigos

The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning, The oranges piled in their creosote dumps; They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border, To pay all their money to wade back again

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita, Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria; You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane, All they will call you will be “deportees" ….. The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon, A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves? The radio says, "They are just deportees"

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards? Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit? To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil, And be called by no name except ‘deportees’?

Do these lyrics sounds like they could have been written just this month? It wouldn’t be surprising, given the number of deportations that have occurred lately. But no, these words were written in 1948 by Woody Guthrie, with accompanying music by Martin Hoffman. The tune, Deportee (Plane Wreck At Los Gatos), is a somber protest song about a group of Mexican deportees whose plane out of the US crashed near Los Gatos, California. The crash killed 32, of whom 28 were Mexican nationals.

Regardless of what you think about the current round of deportations, there is a profound consumer behavior impact being felt in certain sectors. One of those is Mexican beer, specifically the brands Modelo and Corona, owned by Constellation Brands.

Given all of the fears of being deported, either legitimately or not, an increasing number of Hispanics are avoiding social settings in which they may be surprised by ICE agents searching for people to send home. By virtue of avoiding these settings, they are not drinking the beers they are so wont to do. They love their homeland beers, but given their fears, they are staying home. They are also avoiding the smaller mom-and-pop stores and bodegas, opting instead for larger supermarkets where they perceive there to be safety in numbers.

Never mind the fact that, since these beers are brewed in Mexico, they could be subject to significant tariffs. But that’s another story.

If you’ve been paying attention to these things, mistakes and questionable actions have been made. And then there are the 122 students whose visas have been revoked across Texas. I get it. I’d be nervous, too. It’s one thing to be here illegally, and rightfully targeted for deportation. It’s quite another when you’re here on a student visa, or in the case of agricultural workers recently sent home from Florida. That state’s Governor is now pushing for relaxation of child labor laws there so that young teens can work graveyard shifts, to help fill the void left by workers deported. Remember, those guest workers take on the sh*tty jobs the rest of us won’t take.

While Constellation is reporting only a 1% drop in sales, the company says the dip is being felt most significantly in Hispanic neighborhoods. Although much can be done to improve the process of allowing students and workers to be here, we now see the Law of Unintended Consequences once again rearing its ugly head.

Imagine, if you will, flipping the tables and suddenly a different demographic were being targeted. How might it change your consumer behavior? Take your pick—race, ethnicity, gender, orientation, age, whatever. I realize this is just a thought exercise, because the overwhelming majority of us here are safe, or at least like to think we are. I’d sure hate to have been a witch in Salem, though.

While a 1% dip might not sound like much, as we have seen in other cases this year, it can still amount to millions of dollars. The sudden turn of events underscores the need for marketers to always be at the ready to weather unexpected storms. You just don’t know. I’m pretty sure the management team at Constellation Brands has been giddy over their Modelo brand toppling Bud Light two years ago as the number one beer brand in the US. But now this?

They just didn’t have Fear of Deportation on their BINGO card.

Keep it civil in the comments, guys. I know this is a sensitive subject. My job is to point out the good along with the bad, as well as those unintended things. How you—meaning anyone—respond says a lot about not just character, but also marketing professionalism.

Meanwhile, I can’t shake this Woody Guthrie tune. You may have sung one of his songs when you were a child: “This land is your land, this land is my land…” Except when it isn’t, of course. I am just thankful I won’t be a deportee here. And tonight, I will hoist a Modelo or Corona. I’m not sure why. I just will.

Dr “I Have A Name” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[lilablanc]

Headcanon.

Enzo Vogrincic×reader insegura.

•♡Avisos:Fluff?,curto,não revisado,perdão qualquer erro de espanhol.

•♡Nota da autora:olá minhas divas,i am back,sumi um pouco pois estava passando por um processo de falta de ideia para imagines,por enquanto só estarei fazendo headcanons,pretendo começar a escrever headcanons com outros meninos do casting.

-Grata.

Enzo é completamente devoto a você,amava seu corpo com toda certeza,seu corpo de carne farta era como um paraíso para ele,amava suas dobrinhas,cicatrizes,estrias,celulites,manchas e pintinhas,amava como tudo isso causava um ar real a sua beleza,pois para ele você era uma ilusão dos maiores e melhores devaneios que ele já teve.

Enzo desejava todos os dias que você visse seu corpo da mesma forma que ele via,mas infelizmente tudo é muito mais difícil do que de fato parece,você não tinha problemas com seu corpo,bom,pelo menos não antes de conhecer seu ex-namorado,seu ex era uma pessoa deplorável,sempre flertava com outras mulheres em sua frente,te tratava muito mal,falava como seu corpo era feio e como você deveria perder peso,e como você deveria ser grata por estar com ele,enfim um homem com ego alto.

Você lembra de se assustar quando descobriu que Enzo era apaixonado por você,você ainda carregava marcas do antigo relacionamento e ao ver Enzo te tratar de uma forma que você não esperava,você resolveu tentar ter uma relação com o mais velho,o'que foi uma das melhores coisas que você já fez na vida,Enzo te mimava,amava e te tratava como uma deusa,sempre te respeitando e te fazendo se sentir segura e maravilhosa.

Mas como nem sempre temos dias felizes,esse era um desses,Você se olhava no espelho tentando ao máximo não chorar,você antes estava animada,havia comprado um vestido soltinho e mais curto de tons rosados,estava ansiosa para prová-lo e cá entre nós Enzo estava mais animado que você,amava quando você comprava roupas novas e podia ver você com novos modelos,cores e tecidos,mas ao adentrar o quarto e ver você com um olhar de desaprovação para com o próprio corpo Enzo foi direto onde você estava,perguntou o'que acontecia e você contou sobre como não se sentia bonita com o vestido,Enzo te olhou incrédulo pois para ele você estava divina,digna de uma estrela de cinema extremamente glamourosa,Enzo levantou seu queixo e fez você olhar para ele,seus olhos marejados pela insatisfação com o próprio corpo cortavam o coração de Enzo em mil pedaços.

—muñequita,eres tan hermosa.

Você negava as palavras de Enzo,e quando ameaçou abrir a boca para reclamar de seu corpo Enzo te parou com um beijo,Enzo te beijava com amor e ternura e segurava seu rosto com as mãos grandes,beijava os lábios carnudos e explorava a carne macia,Enzo foi descendo os beijos para seu pescoço,ele te beijava com empenho e rapidez,eram selares por todo seu corpo e rosto.

 Enzo te carregou no estilo noiva em direção a cama te deitando com delicadeza,Enzo beijava seus seios,braços,mãos,pernas,coxas,barriga e entre outras partes...

Não era um beijo com malícia mas sim com carinho e ternura,Enzo queria te provar que te achava linda e aos olhos do mesmo te beijar era a prova disso,pois como não querer beijar tudo que é belo.

 Enzo te beijou desde o topo da cabeça até as pontas dos pés,e ao subir o olhar e ver seus rosto corado subiu em cima de você e esfregou o nariz no seu,segurava seu rosto com as duas mãos,os olhos escuros transbordavam de amor e paixão,enzo soltou uma das mãos de seu rosto e agarrou sua mão,pequena em comparação com a dele,depositou selares molhados e disse:

—muñequita,quisiera regalarte mis ojos para que veas lo hermosa que eres.

Você ao ouvir as palavras do mesmo pensava em quanto tinha dado sorte de encontrar esse homem.

Espero que tenham gostado minhas divas.

Kiss kiss by:Larissa(Lila Blanc)💋💋.

[alejandro-caracuel-fans]

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𝐁𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐝í𝐚𝐬

𝐦𝟎𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

#𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 GRACIAS POR LAS FELICITACIONES A MI JEFE EN SU CUMPLEAÑOS ( 28/ 04/ 2024) 🥰🙏🎂❤️❤️

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𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐥

Look who is back! Happy 30s dude!! Better late than never a @alejandrocaracuel

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𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙨....

@alejandrocaracuel : 30 🎂 Gracias por las felicitaciones

🧡

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#thebest

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𝐏Á𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋

.

●𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦á𝐬 𝐩𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨

(𝙼𝚒 𝚓𝚎𝚏𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚕 𝚝í𝚘 𝚖á𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚙𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎)

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𝗬𝗢 𝗡𝗢 𝗦𝗢𝗬 𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗢

( Él es un dios)

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𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋

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@𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨.𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐥.𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬

@𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐥

(Aquí El Jefe)

ACTOR Y MODELO INTERNACIONAL

🎓 fisioterapeuta y brutalmente perfecto

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#mijefeeselmasguapodelmundo l #boss #model #mybossisagod #internationalmodel

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𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐞:

- Nacido: 28/04/94

- Altura: 1'89

- Pecho: 98

- Cintura: 78

- Cadera: 96

- Pie: 44

- Pelo: Castaño

- Ojos: verdes, ( los más bonitos del mundo)

- Traje: 98

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𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣:

- Born: (28/04/94)

- Height: 6'2'/2"

- Chest: 97/38"

- Waist: 78, 5/31

- Hips: 96

- Foot: 44/9,5

- Hair: darkblond

- Eyes: Green ( the most beautiful in the world)

- Suit: 98

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𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨:

- Instagram: alejandrocaracuel

- Facebook: Alejandro Caracuel

- Tiktok: @alejandro.caracuel

- Twitter: @ale_caracuel

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Tienes todos los enlaces y la información del Jefe en el link de la biografía de su página de fans:

@alejandro.caracuel.fans

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Alejandro no es responsable de los comentarios, opiniones etc.. de esta pagina, qué sí que está supeditada a Alejandro y que se retractará, actuará o disculpará si Alejandro así lo considera.

.

Esta página siempre respetará, acatará y obedecerá las decisiones, ordenes y directrices de Alejandro.

[likemsberry]

Back in Black (or Back to college)

"Muy bien, haremos esto una última vez" dije en mi cabeza cuando me hicieron la pregunta típica de ¿Cuál es su nombre? ¿De qué universidad vienen? ¿En qué trabajan?. Volver a la universidad no me resultó fácil. Es decir, si, era cuestión de matricularme, pagar y entrar. Me refiero a que TOMAR la decisión de hacerlo fue lo más difícil. Verán, yo siempre quiero andar saltando por todas partes y la sensación de sentirme atrapada es algo que no me agrada. Desde hace unos años le huía a eso, pensando que si me dedicaba a esto iba a perder tiempo o dinero e iba a tener consecuencias desagradables, pero de lo que no me daba cuenta era que al huirle a todo eso, estaba llegando a ese mismo sitio, como en una cinta de moebius. O COMO SE LLAME. Pero mucha habladuría... Volver fue la sensación más gratificante en muchísimos años. Y entrar a un salón de clase de nuevo, fue mucho más interesante y satisfactorio que la primera vez. Si, estaba muerta de miedo, como en cada instante de mi existencia, pero esta vez era un miedo agradable. Aunque para efectos dramáticos en mi cabeza, tomar el bus, buscar el salón y entrar se sintió así:

Me prometí usar esta escena para describir este día desde que tenía como 23. Lo más interesante de todo es que encontré a otras 24 personas con inseguridades casi que del mismo calibre que las mías. Y personas que tienen trabajos mucho más pesados que el mío. No es que mi trabajo sea malo, AMO mi trabajo, después de todo es el que está pagando todo esto. Pero es curioso que haya mas gente...insegura y aterrada de lo que puede hacer. No se sintieron esas cuatro horas. Hubo momentos de ansiedad, pero lo normal para un primer día de clases. Hubo momentos en los que quise tumbar a alguien y ponerlo en su lugar, pero no quería ser una cabrona. (Bueno, demostrarlo) Hubo un momento que alguien predijo con mucho estilo, pero no esperé que saliera así tal cual. También hay compañeros interesantes. Personas muy inteligentes que pueden ser un modelo. (Aunque ya no estamos en la época de seguir a un modelo). Saber que vienen retos honestamente me hace sonreír, en especial cuando no me siento tan, tan, perdida, sino más bien, y en palabras de alguien "Un as bajo la manga".

Foto de archivo al momento de escuchar terminos como "creencias irracionales" o "Distorsiones cognitivas":

Todo requiere un compromiso y una responsabilidad. Si saco menos de 70% estaré muerta y normalmente no toleraba un 3.9 sin hacer un jodido escándalo en mi cabeza. Hay que hacer una tesis y hay que hacer un MALDITO JUEGO DE ROLES. JUEGO. DE. ROLES. CINCO PUTOS AÑOS HUYENDOLE A LOS JUEGOS DE ROLES, PARA VENIR A ENCONTRARMELOS DE FRENTE, MALDITASEA. Cuando dijeron, vamos a hacer juegos de roles, y lo escuché junto a la palabra Cámara de Gesell... Todas las neuronas de mi cabeza inmediatamente tuvieron esa reacción de Katniss, Peeta y Haymitch cuando saben que deben presentarse para el Vasallaje. Así mismito.

La ira de la semana aún no ha menguado. Viene por horas. Viene por momentos. Viene por picos. Pero estar allá ayudó a tranquilizar un poco las cosas. Quiero gozarme esto. Porque las primeras horas, aun aquellas que fueron virtuales, fueron espectaculares. Sé que cuando uno está allá arriba (emocionalmente) estas cosas que me hacen enojar parecen insignificantes. Y creo que ayuda mucho saber que siento que estoy avanzando (más), que tengo otro propósito y otras cosas en que pensar. Esa fue otra razón más para hacer esto. Hoy es otro día. Y hoy ojalá lleguen más cosas agradables.

[ligiaonwlz]

Hello everyone, I've been hesitating on posting this, but I don't know what else to do.

As many of you may or may not know my dad retired at the end of 2022 and moved back to Guatemala. He recently came to visit in April, and wanted to pick up a car he had left here and take it back to Guatemala. Before going back he drove to SoCal to hang out with a friend and take care of some business, then he would start his journey. On Friday June 9th he started his journey back and messaged me telling me he was leaving and that he would message me on his way as well as when he got to guatemala. It is about 50 hours from here to guatemala, so it should have only really taken him a week give or take since he only drives during the day. It's been a month now and we haven't heard from him. No one has heard anything. My brother Robert and I have contacted family members, friends, and have made missing person reports with the police departments and the consulates. We've had no luck.

We are very worried, the longer he is missing the more probable it gets to experience a very sad reality. We don't know what else to do, I am posting this to see if anyone has heard anything that knows us or if anyone has any ideas from either their lived experience, the experience of others, or just in general. We are super super worried.

My dad's name is Roberto Leonel Zúñiga is 65 years old, he's a diabetic, and has some other medical stuff going on, he relies on his medication and other things to maintain his health. He has a weak knee that prevents him from walking a lot. He is fairly short 5'4 and weighs a little over 200 lbs. He has short salt and pepper hair, a salt and pepper mustache, light skin, might be wearing a gray hoodie or an orange and black San Francisco Giants windbreaker jacket. He was driving a green Ford station wagon-like older model, it was probably made in the 90s. (This is the same description as the images below as they are the most recent pictures) my dad speaks English and Spanish well as he is also a dual citizen.

If anyone comes across any information please message me ASAP. Thank you!

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Hola a todos, he estado dudando en publicar esto, pero no sé qué más hacer.

Como muchos de ustedes saben o no, mi papá se jubiló a fines de 2022 y regresó a Guatemala. Recientemente vino de visita en abril y quería recoger un carro que había dejado aquí y llevarlo de regreso a Guatemala. Antes de regresar, se fue al sur de California para pasar tiempo con un amigo y hacer unos mandados, y luego comenzaría su viaje. El viernes 9 de junio comenzó su viaje de regreso y me envió un mensaje diciéndome que se iba y que me enviaría un mensaje en el camino y cuando llegara a Guatemala. Son unas 50 horas desde aquí hasta Guatemala, por lo que solo debería haberle tomado una semana más o menos, ya que solo viaja durante el día. Ha pasado un mes y no hemos sabido nada de él. Nadie ha oído nada. Mi hermano Robert y yo nos hemos puesto en contacto con familiares, amigos y hemos hecho informes de personas desaparecidas con los departamentos de policía y los consulados. No hemos tenido suerte.

Estamos muy preocupados, cuanto más tiempo esté desaparecido más probable es que realizemos una realidad muy triste. No sabemos qué más hacer, estoy publicando esto para ver si alguien ha escuchado algo que nos conozca o si alguien tiene alguna idea de su experiencia vivida, la experiencia de otros o simplemente en general. Estamos súper súper preocupados.

Mi papá se llama Roberto Leonel Zúñiga, tiene 65 años, es diabético y tiene otras cosas médicas, depende de su medicación y otras cosas para mantener su salud. Tiene una rodilla débil que le impide caminar mucho. Él es bastante bajito 5'4 y pesa un poco más de 200 libras. Tiene cabello corto canoso, bigote canoso, piel clara, podría estar usando una sudadera con gorro de color gris o una chaqueta cortavientos anaranjada y negra de los Giants de San Francisco. Lleva un carro modelo antiguo Ford, verde, tipo camioneta, probablemente fabricado en los años 90. (Esta es la misma descripción que las imágenes a continuación, ya que son las imágenes más recientes) mi papá habla bien inglés y español y también tiene doble ciudadanía.

Si alguien encuentra alguna información, por favor envíeme un mensaje lo antes posible. ¡Gracias!

[ivanreycristo]

X cierto..Hablando de dar x el CULO..la recuerdo a VIRGINIA MAESTRO..q este DOMINGO se presenta en el FESTIVAL RIO BABEL [=temazo del malogrado CERATI q apesar de ser para mí el mejor cantante de Rock LATINO.. se le acabó TODO lo bueno con 50 años para pasar 4 años de CALVARIO junto a SU FAMILIA como es su hijo BENITO al q le dio un ATAQUE EPILEPTICO en el barrio de PALERMO como los q sufre VIRGINIA MAESTRO..cuando publico cd UNISEX]..su ex_guitarrista NACHO MUR con LA M.O.D.A. [Maravillosa Orquesta Del Alcohol=PUTO PAIS DE BORRACHOS Y PAJEROS O PUTEROS Y FUMATAS] así como su amigo NACHO TABUADA [novio de SARA CARBONERO q cuando tuvo tumores se separo de la ex_mujer de IKER CASILLAS infartado día del TRABAJADOR 2019 tras regalar su camiseta con la q ganó MUNDIAL 2010 a mi compañero de UNIVERSIDAD Y PUTA MILI Oscar DE LAS HERAS LICERAS según publico diario AS con titular TIERRA SANTA] con COLECTIVO PANAMERA [carretera PANAMERICANA en el q basan un modelo de PORSCHE] con el q VIRGINIA MAESTRO canto EL RELOJ [canción de un mexicano] en EL BUHO REAL en 2022 y cuya versión acaba de lanzar dentro de unas versiones q grabó en 2017 q fue la última vez q vino el cabeza de Cartel JAMIROQUAI [q debuto con cd EMERGENCIA EN EL PLANETA TIERRA en el q participó GLENN NIGHTINGALE como en cd BONITO de JARABE DE PALO]..presentando su cd AUTOMATON [cuyo video es post_apocaliptico y donde en el video CLOUD 9 sale Mónica CRUZ q tuvo q recurrir a la INSEMINACION ARTIFICIAL..xq hay q estar MUY LOCO o MUY RICO para tener un HIJO con una MUJER DE LA FALSA MORAL O DEL DINERO q es la q se estila de forma INSOPORTABLE..video rodado en ALMERIA como su famoso video conduciendo deportivos de lujo " COSMIC GIRL"]..en concreto 25_11_17 q yo vi en sala SIROCO a ARA_MUSA presentando su cd DIEZ q como el anterior cd ARCHE [=1er elemento de la creación.. q cuando lo presento en 2015 hizo una entrevista en la radio o programa PLANETA TENTACIONES tras VIRGINIA MAESTRO q había tocado el día anterior o de mi año 44=28_11_15 en sala EL SOL yendo yo a sala BUT a un homenaje a QUEEN x MOMO CORTES q grabó con Brian May una versión en español de TOO MUCH LOVE WILL KILL YOU del cd BACK TO THE LIGHT y q también incluyo en cd postumo MADE IN HEAVEN de QUEEN]..me regalaron sus amigas tras fotografiarme con ella casi a oscuras para luego irme junto a ellas al FULANITAS donde toco VIRGINIA MAESTRO tras sala EL SOL ese 2015

X cierto..antes q JAMIROQUAI toca BOMBA STEREO y el día antes toca en RIO BABEL el dominicano JUAN LUIS "GUERRA" y recuerdo q cuando vi en ese recinto de la CAJA MAGICA donde hacían el DOWNLOAD FESTIVAL 2018 a MARILYN [monroe][charles] MANSON [mayor Éxito cd ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR] presentar HEAVEN UPSIDE DOWN [CIELO DEL REVES] había un pestazo del río MANZANA+eRES porque fallo la depuradora adjunta conocida como LA CHINA

[onthecoverofamagazine]

Black Is Back | Vogue Italia julio 1992

Meghan Douglas, Kristen McMenamy, Nadja Auermann y Benedicte Loyen ~ Foto: Steven Meisel

[jakecockley]

ximenaaaa, I hope your day has been going good!! can I request ur thots/headcanons for the moonboys dating a model?? thank you if you accept 💚

why ofc zia !! i will graciously accept doing hcs of this !

✧ pairing: the moon system x gn!reader

✧ genre: fluff/suggestive

✧ warnings: none, really

✧ author's note: didn't rly expect to go out on this at 9 in the morning. at first, it was short bulletin points, then this 🤷🏽‍♀️ if you want to request something, don’t be afraid to send an ask !!! 🫶🏽

tagging @marc-spectorr and @slenderclaw !!

STEVEN: oh he'd absolutely be enamored with you. he'd often think to himself just how lucky he is to be your boyfriend, as you get ready for practice. he ponders how you have such an air of confidence, how you keep it up, but then again, you're beautiful. it truly is no wonder. he loves going to your photoshoots and gigs, whenever he can. he feels a little out of place whenever he goes to them, with all the fancy people, but with time, he doesn't mind anymore. he takes pictures of you all the time and when at home, does little sketches of you here and there in his sketchbook. he thinks you're a marvel, and when you come home and cuddle in bed with him, he can't help but run his hand along your body, to feel your skin, to feel every curve and dip. he asks you of your day and listens to what you tell him. if you had a rough day, he's there to comfort you the best he can. sometimes he'll show you the photos he took of you on his phone and remind you of how beautiful you are, whenever you're feeling down.

MARC: he really loves how you look during photoshoots, mostly because of the way your expression changes between shots. he thinks you're sexy as hell, especially when you make eye contact with him during takes. he admires you greatly, the way you carry yourself and all. at times, he'll find himself staring at you, either alone or in public. he still gets a little flustered whenever you catch him though, even if it's months into dating. he also likes to show you off a bit, while he doesn't have a huge sense of pride and likes keeping his life private. he's definitely told duchamp of you and the french man wonders how a serious man like marc managed to sweep you off your feet. marc thinks the same. he loves taking you flowers every time he goes to one of your gigs and always makes sure he's dressed nicely for you. similar to his british alter, he loves mapping out your body. has a thing for leaving hickeys on you, but always asks you if it's alright due to any photoshoots in the future.

JAKE: ooh, this man is head over heels for you. he definitely wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you whenever you're close. he's also the type of man to show you off a lot, likes letting others know that you're taken and that he's dating that one beautiful model that you see all over new york. he enjoys picking you up after practice or even after the photoshoots/gigs that he wasn't able to go to due to work. the man will take you out to eat at a fancy restaurant and he'll 100% have his way with you in the back of the limo afterward if he's impatient enough and you're alright with it. when he is able to attend one of your gigs, he thanks the gods, because as soon as he sees you walking down the runway, he swears you're the most beautiful human being he's ever seen. the way you move has jake in a trance. now, as a model, you know your way with fashion. jake doesn't mind when you dress him up for dates and outings, he's up for anything. sometimes, you do your own little photo session, except this time you take photos with jake. he always feels his face warm up when you tell him he could be a model himself. oh, how he'd take the moon and stars for you if he could, that's just how bad he's got it for you. he loves the effect you have on him. you always love seeing either his cab or limo parked in front of your modeling agency, with him leaning against the door, smoking a cig. "ahí está mi modelo."

✧ translation: "there's my model"

my moon knight masterlist

[heckyeahponyscans]

Was googling around for info on the Kellogg’s baby Christmas pony promotion (Baby Stockings) and I found this incredible video!!  And the info that comes with it is even more incredible!

Google Translate version:

KELLOGG'S PROMO 1990 MY LITTLE PONY AND G.I. JOE

The other day tinkering with my Beta movies I found this treasure that I recorded as a child, it lasts very little because it is only the final fragment of the ad (the part that interested me) where Kellogg's promoted the gift of a pony or a G.I. Joe to choose from. From the back of the box, you chose the toy and they sent you one (although the toy you chose never coincided with the one in the photo since they sent you whatever belonged to that same set). I was able to get 3 ponies, I chose Galaxy and they sent me Fizzy, then Forget-Me-Not and they sent me Peach Blossom, finally I chose Baby Tiddly Winks and they sent me Baby Lemon Drop. A detail of the promo of My Little Pony is that all of them were made in Spain. Nowadays they are a treasure and some of them are worth fortunes. 

Spanish ponies were given from the following collections: Party ponies (translator’s note: Twice As Fancy), Adventurers (translator’s note: Big Brother ponies), Cuddly Baby ponies (translator’s note: set comprised of Baby Moondancer, Baby Tiddly Winks, Baby Lemon Drop, and Baby Bow Tie), Flutter ponies, and Twinkle Eye ponies. I have no idea about G.I. Joe or how it worked since I only dedicated myself to the ponies :)

Original Spanish text under the cut:

Original text:

KELLOGG'S PROMO 1990 MI PEQUEÑO PONY (LITTLE PONY) Y GIJOE El otro dia trasteando con mis pelis beta encontre este tesoro que grabe de pequeña, dura muy poco porque solo es el fragmento final del anuncio (la aprte que me interesaba) donde kellog's promocionaba el regalo de un pony o un gijoe a escoger de la parte de atras de la caja, escogias el modelo y ellos te enviaban uno (aunque nunca coincidia el juguete que elegias con el de la foto ya que te enviaban el que fuera que perteneciera a esa misma colección, yo precisamente pude coger 3 ponys, escogi a galaxia y me enviaron a espumita, luego a no me olvides y me enviaron a melocoton,  por ultimo escogi a baby chiquitin y me enviaron a bebe comilon. Un detalle de la promo de mi pequeño pony esque todos ellos eran de los fabricados en españa y hoy en dia son un tesoro y algunos de ellos valen fortunas. Se regalaron ponys españoles de las siguientes colecciones: fiesta, aventureros, bebe caricias,alitas y ojos centelleos. De gijoe no tengo ni idea como funcionaba la cosa ya que solo me dedique a los ponys :)

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[abybweisse]

Halloween Haul….

Wore my full costume to Kinokuniya when I went to buy a Kazuo Umezz book, and some random customer asked to take pics. She took several, from different angles. I’m probably on her social media now. 🤔 Well, no need to worry about identification. 😆

Nearer to sunset, I went out to reverse trick or treat… and as I handed out bags of mixed chocolates and party favors… I ended up with a Modelo and White Claw, $4 cash, a cupcake, and other candy.

At the start, one neighbor (Daniel) tells me a Modelo or White Claw has my name on it. I went up to his (and Julie’s) door, and I ended up with one of each. He took some pics.

Other neighbors (Janis and Bret) gave me candies, took pics, and later texted for me to come back for a cupcake. Janis sent these pics to me.

I took the booze back to my place (it was in the way of the candy) and went back out to resume my task.

Later, these random drunk Mexican dudes waved me over to their truck, where they were just hanging out in the parking lot with mariachi music on their truck radio. They kept taking my hat to wear in pics posed with me. And danced (bumped their hips against mine). Lots of arms around my shoulders and general drunkenness. I just wanted to give the boy with them a bag of treats, and I finally did, but by then they had tossed four $1 bills into my cauldron.

I don’t know much Spanish (a shame, really), so I was confused when I heard one say “hombre”. I pointed to myself and said “mujer”. Because I thought they didn’t know who was in the costume. Now I think they were either asking if I had a man… or where my man was…. 🤦🏻‍♀️ 😬 Anyway, I tried to leave that awkward situation as soon as I could. 😅

Then I went back to the neighbor with the cupcakes. No pics. Ate it. 😋

Yet another neighbor (a different Daniel) was looking for a mis-delivered FedEx package, and I grabbed a candy from a basket on someone’s porch… while I was trying to find the delivery. (That’s how they were doing their candy giveaways.) I hope he found it, because I didn’t. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I did finally give away the 16 bags of treats I had, and my costume went over very well… but wow I got my own haul! 🤣