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baby-yongbok · 2 months ago

Text

Please, Please, Please

Hwang Hyunjin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre - smut [MDNI] - sub!Hyunjin x dom!Reader ✦ WC - 1.2k ✦ Summary - You and Hyunjin switch roles ✦ CW - edging (m rec.), praise, mommy kink, nipple play/sucking (m rec.), Names used for Hyunjin: Hunny, baby, good boy/sweet boy ✦ A/N - I had writers block (still kinda do) but then Hyunjin popped up looking fucking pretty and I had to do something. ✦ Masterlist✦

Hyunjin has you wrapped around his finger. He always has.

You've always said that he's magnetic. He'll pull you in like a tide and push his way into your good graces until he's the smoke fogging every mirror of your mind.

“Can you even speak, baby?” Your voice rings through the static in his mind and he hums out a strained whimper. “Need a break?”

He shakes his head, blinking his eyes open in an attempt to plead with you. He’s beautiful, on his knees with his hands behind his back by his own free will. No rope, no cuffs, just him tangling his long fingers into each other.

“M’ okay… want more.” The tone of his voice, so rough and needy, is a new experience for you.

The roles are usually reversed. You're used to Hyunjin being the one standing tall before you, leather glove on one hand and worn jeans low on his waist while he makes you taste yourself off of the black fabric. Tonight it's him beneath you.

He insisted that he'd hate it. He swore it. Then your sweet voice cooed at him and your pretty soft hands started touching him. He melted right before your eyes.

“More?” You circle him, stopping off to the side and lowering yourself to your knees. “You ready, hunny?”

His eyes are glassy, lips plump from kissing and parted with drool pooling at the corner. He nods and your hand finds his heavy cock where it's throbbing between his legs.

You wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly with enough pressure to make him keen. “Wet it for me.” He blinks, registering your request and pursing his lips to spit down onto his cock.

“That's it.” You watch it fall, getting flashbacks to every time he let a wad of spit flow from his lips and down to your cunt before stuffing you full of whatever he saw fit.

You wet his cock, spreading the spit with your palm and watching as Hyunjin shudders. You've been edging him for a solid fifteen minutes. He's red and sensitive, leaking onto the pillow under his knees.

“How long do you think you can last, baby?” You exchange a coo for a moan. Your hand moves over the head of his cock, catching every sensitive part of him in one swipe. “Won't… last. I can't… too much.”

His sentences are broken, strained, and pretty. He's so pretty. His fluffy hair bounces subtly as you pick up your pace. The strands sticking to his forehead frame the fucked out haze creeping over his features and present it to you like a work of art. Each pump of his cock milks a more debauched sound from him; a moan then a whine followed by a louder moan.

You're convinced that somehow he's still in control here. That's the only way that you can think that he'd still be able to drive you insane like this. The mirrors in your mind are successfully fogged. Your thighs press together, your tongue is caught between your teeth. You're pulled in.

“Please, I'm close… let me cum, mommy, please. Please.” He's looking down at his cock, at the way your hand glides across the wet length and he mewls. It's a pathetic sound and it makes you hot. “So close, So.. fuck, f-fuck, mommy, I wanna.. wanna..”

The mommy kink is a new thing. Something that both you and Hyunjin figured out thirty minutes ago. It's hot.

He keeps up his rambling, begging and sobbing moans until you take your hand away and he groans. “No, no, no, please. Please, I need it.”

His begging nearly makes you crumble. You bite back a whimper of your own, staring back at the desperate mess beside you. He's gone. So far gone and fucked out that you know that he doesn't feel the drool running down his chin.

You run your hand up his toned stomach and over his chest. You let the pads of your fingers brush over his nipple and the bud pebbles. Hyunjin hisses a high pitched whine. He's sensitive there, more than he'd ever admit.

“My sweet boy, wants to cum? Did he earn it?” The way that you expect him to answer while you toy with his nipple Is almost cruel. His cock jumps at each pinch, no matter the intensity. He whines, high and loud and so fucking pretty. “Mm, now he really can't speak, huh?”

Hyunjin is crumbling. Falling apart at the seams and trying to keep all of him attached to his shaky spine. The Pleasure is intoxicating, All consuming.

“Please.” Is all that he can manage to whimper. His head falls back, his hair sways beautifully against his shoulder muscles and he looks at you. You moan as he does. “Please.”

And just like that cave. “Anything for my baby.” You spit into your hand and bring it to his cock. He moans deep and loud but it turns into a gasp when he feels the warmth of your mouth on his nipple. Your lips wrap around the small bud, sucking with a hum before licking at it softly.

“Fuck, fuck, that's.. you're… m’ gonna cum, gonna cum, can I? Please, please.” He's shaking before the final word can leave his lips. He's moaning, trembling, cumming hard with a howl. His hands break themselves free of their invisible restraints and one finds purchase in your hair while the other balls into the pillow beneath him.

You pull back from his chest, a thin line of spit connects the two of you as you pull back to take him in. His cock is leaking, spurting cum all over the floor and your hand. It's a lot. Hot and sticky and pooling right in front of you.

“You are so pretty, Hyunjinnie. My baby is so good to me, giving me all of his cum like this.” He keens, bucking his hips and fucking your fist to milk the last of what he has to offer. You swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock and he hisses. “You're good, I'm stopping.”

You smile and he sighs, deflating into yet another puddle. “You okay?” His eyes meet yours for a second before they flutter shut and he nods. He leans into you, resting his head on your chest.

“Breathe.” He takes a second, calming the heavy pants of his chest into a softer rhythm. With a deep exhale he breaks the silence. “I… didn't think that I'd like that so much.”

You smile and he chuckles, breathlessly. “You came a lot.” he scoffs, “You sucked my nipples of course I did.”

He glances at the mess, mumbling a curse at the puddle of sticky white. “You're the one who wanted to cum.” You shrug and he sucks his teeth. The silence creeps in again, you stroke Hyunjin’s hair as he lays on your chest and he picks at the fabric of your shorts.

“Wanna go again?” You whisper, half jokingly. “Are you serious?” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised and lips parted.

“Do you want me to be?” He blinks at you, considering your offer for a second before he caves. “C'mere.”

His lips crash onto yours, his tongue licks into your mouth and you moan into him. He swallows it, recycling it instantly and giving it away to the thick air around you.

“One more time.” He mumbles against your lips. “Then it's your turn.”

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antimonyandthyme · 1 month ago

Note

WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

For myself, patience.

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #carcar #apologies for responding to your ask with 4k of the most self indulgent fic it will happen again #the cure to getting stuck together is to speedrun time spent together #anon i've never watched stuck together

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mini-ism · 8 months ago

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#— “SO, YOU’RE A CAMBOY?”

⋆ warnings: ADULT CONTENT (MDNI). camboy!au, masturbation, no beta read.

⋆ pairings: gallagher, sunday, aventurine, welt yang, dr. veritas ratio (separate) X reader.

⋆ notes: this is a part 2 (that nobody asked for lol), i hope i didnt butcher anyones character 😓

⋆ PART 1.

⋆ gallagher will actually oil up if you tell him to — and he does it with a dirty grin. he always wears his signature magenta tie, or maybe a collar if he’s feeling extra naughty. not much is known about gallagher, truthfully. gallagher likes to flex his biceps, he knows that drives you mad. his arms are all scratched up, speckled with patches of scar tissue up to his shoulders. he has a strangely magnetic gaze, one that calls to you as he strokes himself. he lolls his head, letting out a long, heavy moan. his brown hair starts to stick to his face as he sweats, teasing his cock to drive his viewers wild. he edges to get you riled up, raising his eyebrows as he pumps his shaft with two big, thick, calloused hands. he likes to cuff himself to his bed, unable to pull away from a vibrator or his own hand. gallagher is very personal with his viewers at times, ranting about his long, boring day at work with a hand on his cock, calling himself an “old dog” and blabbing about bitchy people. if there’s one thing about gallagher that you know, it’s that he’s a dirty, old showoff. oh, and, if you finish before him, he will relentlessly tease you for it.

⋆ sunday infrequently streams. there’s something so filthy and impure about it that drives him somewhat wild. he doesn’t like to show his face on camera a lot, it could end up bad if it becomes public knowledge that he’s the one on stream. however rare it may be for him to stream, let alone show his face, you can’t ever get enough of his flushed face. he’s just so pent up, and every time he gets close, his wings start to flap a little, it’s adorable. his wings are perfectly preened, his body is well taken care of, and his hands are simply beautiful. his skin is quite pale, it sometimes looks slightly grey, but his knuckles are rosy, and his face gets so, so red. his cock is just as gorgeous, his entire body is well maintained, his tip just as rosy as his knuckles. he lets out small babbles as his cool, collected exterior starts to falter from pleasure. he teases the slit of his tip with his thumb, stroking slowly, dampening his moans with his other mouth. what he does secretly is just so, so impure, it’s sinful, it feels all too good to show his fans what he cannot show the world. it’s amazing, having no control for once.

⋆ aventurine is showy. he’s already pretty showy (he has a lot to compensate for, in all honesty), but when he’s right in front of the camera, something in him changes. he likes to make his streams feel one-on-one, he knows that’s what gets him donations. sometimes, he likes to make “bets” on who will come first, you or him. it’s always you, especially when he dirty talks and picks up the camera to show you how hard and needy he is. he licks his lips and he moans softly when he pumps himself, taunting you to cum, confessing how hard this makes him. he always makes sure to ruin your orgasm indirectly, never letting you get what you want. shouldn’t seeing him already be enough for you, or are you just selfish?

⋆ welt never anticipated becoming a camboy. he was reluctant, but he strangely started to enjoy it. he doesn’t have much personal time, between his job, his duties, his life, he doesn’t savor the time he has alone with himself all too much. welt loves to praise you, urging you to come for him, come to his body and his dick. his gaze is so, so gentle, egging you on for longer, edging himself just so you feel good. his audience loves that about him, he’s endearing and selfless, he doesn’t even have donations on. he mostly streams for the fun of it, he loves encouraging you to feel your best, showing you every part of him that you want, flexing his muscles, giving you THAT look, moaning for you. he strokes his cock softly, whimpering with pleasure and whining as he feels his abs after he edges again. welt absolutely has a cult-like following, the majority of which have some sort of DILF fascination.

⋆ veritas ratio was openly against the idea of streaming. he shut it down every time, but something in the back of his mind nagged him. he grew in popularity in a short time, tugging on his cock with a strange scowl-like smile on his face. he was wonderfully sculpted, though, he loved to show his body. he would occasionally post to other platforms with photos of him shirtless. sometimes out of the bath, skin still glistening and wet, or after a workout in a mirror. in due time, veritas became used to flaunting his body, sneakily placing a rubber ducky somewhere around his home, whether it be his living room, his room, wherever, and challenging his viewers to find it. he’s mildly agitated whenever a member of his audience calls him “ducky” or “mr. ducky.” the ducks are part of the reason why he blew up so fast. veritas knows he’s handsome, though, and he loves to tease, pulling his cock from his boxers when he can’t bare another second of not touching it. he’s big, and he loves to talk about what he’ll do to you. he wastes no time, making sure to pleasure himself and you as efficiently as possible, he’s a master of dirty talk, especially with that commanding voice of his.

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aeth-eris · 2 months ago

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★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

★ astro observations | jukebox ★

★ venus sextile saturn ★

patience by tame impala – because they know that love worth having takes time and commitment.

slow dancing in a burning room by john mayer – steady, bittersweet vibes; they hold on even when it hurts.

stay by rihanna ft. mikky ekko – loyalty in love, even when it feels fragile.

★ mars in cancer (or 4th house) ★

tears dry on their own by amy winehouse – emotional, passionate, and always coming from the heart, even if it hurts.

bury me face down by grandson – they’ll protect what’s theirs fiercely but lowkey wish they didn’t have to.

you should see me in a crown by billie eilish – quiet strength, but don’t cross them or they’ll make it personal.

★ mercury square uranus ★

mind mischief by tame impala – unpredictable thoughts that feel like lightning in a bottle.

weird fishes/arpeggi by radiohead – their ideas swim in different directions, but somehow, it works.

mr. brightside by the killers – their mind is a chaotic overthinker, but it’s never boring.

★ moon in aquarius (or 11th house) ★

team by lorde – they thrive when surrounded by their people, even if they feel a little detached.

electric feel by mgmt – their emotions are unpredictable, but they’ll shock you in the best way.

starman by david bowie – their heart lives in a different dimension, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

★ sun trine pluto ★

power by kanye west – they embrace their inner power and radiate confidence, but it’s never without depth.

control by halsey – transformation is their love language, and they’ll never stop growing.

bad guy by billie eilish – their energy is magnetic, and they know exactly how to wield it.

★ mars in gemini (or 3rd house) ★

pumped up kicks by foster the people – their energy comes in bursts, and they’re always moving, always thinking.

feel good inc. by gorillaz – chaotic energy but with purpose; they thrive on mental stimulation.

flaws by bastille – they channel their restlessness into making things happen, even if they trip along the way.

★ mercury in pisces (or 12th house) ★

dreams by fleetwood mac – their mind floats between reality and fantasy, and it’s a beautiful mess.

mad world by tears for fears – they’re intuitive thinkers who feel everything, even when they wish they didn’t.

visions by dvsn – their thoughts are like poetry, and their words are always drenched in emotion.

★ venus square mars ★

love is a battlefield by pat benatar – passion and tension are their love language, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

delicate by taylor swift – every relationship feels like walking a tightrope, balancing desire and vulnerability.

bohemian rhapsody by queen – dramatic, chaotic, and never boring in love.

★ mars in virgo (or 6th house) ★

don’t stop me now by queen – perfectionists who will outwork you and make it look easy.

work b**ch by britney spears – they’re hustling every day and expect you to keep up.

control by zoe wees – their drive comes from an inner need to fix, organize, and win.

★ sun conjunct neptune ★

somewhere i belong by linkin park – they’re dreamy and empathetic but sometimes lose themselves in the process.

crystalised by the xx – their identity feels fluid, like it’s always shifting and evolving.

ribs by lorde – they live for the nostalgia and daydreams, always craving the unreachable.

★ moon in leo (or 5th house) ★

applause by lady gaga – they crave recognition for their emotional generosity and creative spirit.

on top of the world by imagine dragons – their heart thrives on positivity and big dreams.

kill v. maim by grimes – their emotions come with drama, flair, and just the right amount of chaos.

★ venus in taurus (or 2nd house) ★

adore you by harry styles – sensual, grounded, and all about the slow, steady build-up in love.

let’s stay together by al green – loyalty and consistency are their love essentials.

golden by jill scott – they find beauty in simplicity, and their love is a whole vibe.

★ mars trine jupiter ★

stronger by kanye west – they’re unstoppable when they put their mind (and energy) to something.

higher by rihanna – they dream big, act big, and expect big results.

can’t hold us by macklemore & ryan lewis – their enthusiasm and drive can move mountains, and they know it.

★ mercury in libra (or 7th house) ★

someone like you by adele – their words are soft and charming, but don’t mistake that for weakness.

the scientist by coldplay – they analyze relationships with the precision of a poet.

put a little love on me by niall horan – they’re diplomatic communicators, but sometimes their heart bleeds into their words.

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

#astrology #astrology observations #astrology aspects #astro observations

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univac1219 · 6 months ago

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Does your 1219 have a nickname?

Also, I was wondering if you have any fun stories surrounding it! Strange quirks it has or anything like that.

I'd love to see more photos if you're allowed to post them!

Thanks for the question! These are my favorite part about my blog by far.

Not exactly, the UNIVAC 1219 doesn’t have a nickname. I did realize recently that I should specify the pronunciation (Twelve-Nineteen), but it doesn’t have any nicknames. Apart from ‘the 1219’, it’s also regularly referred to as the CPU or just ‘the computer’.

Fun stories or weird quirks? Boy, I could fill a book with this machine’s weird quirks (or as we say, intermittent issues), but I’ll try to blitz through the most common ones:

Sometimes the computer will stop running and enter a WAIT mode. No reason, it just needs a break. We can’t fix it, it just has to decide to go back into operating mode.

The computer will often start attempting to communicate on IO channel 13. We’re not telling it to talk to anything, it just decides to try to.

One of our teletypes (the Kleinshmidt) stamps ink splotches into the paper rather than characters most of the time. However, this weekend it worked for the first time in 10 months! We didn’t change anything, it just had an extra cup of coffee or something.

The Digital Data Recorder, or the tape drive, has the most gremlins out of any of our units. The top handler works fairly well, but the bottom handler won’t properly read data, write data, move the tape forward, initialize the tape, or any number of other issues.

There’s more but hopefully this satisfies your curiosity.

Fun stories? Well, I can’t name any specific ones, but I can say it’s a very endearing machine. It’s the very last of its kind and being one of three individuals in the world responsible for it makes every issue that more frustrating. There is no real forum for it, the subject matter experts sit next to me and are often just as exasperated as I am.

But the unique nature of this situation make every successful diagnostic test that much sweeter. Every new addition (5.25” floppy drive via serial) that much cooler. I have an IBM PC-XT clone at home, but I thank my lucky stars every day that this big iron is what I get to specialize in.

As for more photos, I have none that are as grandiose as you would probably expect. I do have my working photos though. I took all my photos when I first started working on it and now I am more dedicated to fixes than photo-ops.

This is a photo of our finicky Kleinshmidt teletype. Still has blotches but it actually printed!

This is the back of the bottom handler. Pictured is the vacuum pump in the bottom left (so sudden stops just yank magnetic tape slack rather than ripping tape). The big cylinder in the center is a motor for running the magnetic tape handler itself. The big black ‘hose’ of wires coming out of the steel plate contains all the cables that come right off the handler’s head for reading and writing data!

This is the forward pinch roller of the bottom handler. It was replaced after this photo was taken as you can see the rubber has deteriorated in the 55 years this machine has been operating.

As for being allowed to post photos, that’s not an issue. The last 1219 was decommissioned in 2014 and now you can find all of its documentation online at http://www.bitsavers.org/pdf/univac/military/1219/

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safetyvalve1 · 1 year ago

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peachyjinx · 2 years ago

Note

Smutty drabble idea: something with somnophilia, like Loki comes home from a mission or battle and finds Reader sprawled out naked in his bed asleep and it drives him wild

Ooo this one was fun cause I haven't written somnophilia before and only read like maybe 2 fics with it. Hope you enjoy!

Home

Relationship: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: 18+, somnophilia, Loki's POV

Loki keys in the password to your shared living quarters in Stark tower, wincing as he feels a tinge in his shoulder that had taken the brunt of a sonic blast last night. Loki scowls as he quietly enters your living room, thinking about how Stark had insisted his new shields would be impervious.

Idiot, Loki thinks to himself.

He enters the room quietly, glancing at the clock-2:30 am.The others insisted that he showered in the communal showers when they landed, under the assumption of possible exposures in the lab. Loki had huffed in response, grabbed some of Banner’s soaps, and headed to your private shower you shared. He needed to be back home- where you are.

Loki silently steps towards the bathroom, already feeling relief to be in the space you shared. He runs the shower and steps in, feeling his tense, sore muscles begin to relax under the hot water. Loki gently soaps his body down and lathers his hair, his mind wandering.

Loki’s thoughts drift to the last 48 hours. A whirlwind of reconnaissance and the subsequent invasion of new Hydra labs. He proudly grins to himself with his eyes closed as he stands under the hot water, remembering flashes of green spread out amongst the crowds of henchmen. How thrilling it felt, feeling his power coursing through his veins. Loki feels his heart beating faster, the adrenaline still pumping in his system.

He had been told by Rogers not to kill anyone, but Loki had rightly ignored that order as he took the lab technician’s lives. He had been alive longer than the rest of the team- he knew there was no use for the sort of ilk that experimented on others.

As Loki reminisces on how glorious the battle had been, his hand wanders to his cock, which is beginning to twitch. He begins to gently pump his hardening length while his thoughts drift to you, sleeping soundly in your shared bedroom.

There was something about you he couldn’t resist; like magnets, the two of you were drawn to each other. All it took was a giggle and a glance from you and Loki was ready to burn everything down just to be inside your welcoming cunt.

You had always told him he could have you whenever he wanted- even when you were sleeping. He normally chose to wake you up… but tonight was different. As Loki dries himself off, his need feels even more pressing, a heat is building in his lower back.

Loki softly steps into your bedroom, his eyes drawn to you peacefully passed out, wrapped in your sheets. His gaze slowly drifts down your body and he feels his cock twitch again, warmth spreading over his body as he hears himself breathing faster.

His aching need to bury his cock inside your wet folds is unbearable, and he gently removes the sheets off of you and turns your pliable body on your back as he stands over you. Loki climbs onto the bed, his muscular thighs encasing your hips. His cock is flushed and he resists his urge to sink it in you immediately. He needs to make sure you are ready, because he’s not waking you up this time.

You let out a soft whimper as he gently caresses your breasts with the tip of his finger, his eyes widen as he watches you respond to him.

So beautiful…and always so willing under my touch.

Loki’s hand drifts to your core, a finger gently discovers your wetness in between your legs. His heart races as he touches your soft skin, fingers mingling in the sticky sensation.

Always wet and ready for me.

Loki shudders as his skillful hands begin to massage your clit, and he works his finger inside of you. His finger gently pumps inside, preparing you for his girth. You let out a quiet moan in your sleep, “Mmm Loki…”.

The sound of your voice floods his senses in the dark, his need to fit his thick cock into your tight hole overwhelms him as an intense heat from the base of his cock becomes too much to ignore.

Loki withdraws his finger and lowers his large frame on top of yours, needing to be inside of you immediately.

With ease, he pushes his cock slowly inside of you, holding back a moan as he closes his eyes tightly. Your warmth envelopes him, and Loki knows this is Valhalla. He restrains himself as he starts slowly and begins to pump himself inside.

You begin to squirm, and he gently grabs your wrists with one hand, moving them above your head. Loki feels his cock twitch as your hips begin to buck gently against his as he rhythmically thrusts inside of you.

Loki nuzzles in your neck, your scent driving him wilder as he increases his pace, trying to get deeper inside of you.

“Ohhh..” you begin to shift and Loki watches as your eyes move under your lids, and he can tell you’re going to wake up at any moment.

Loki feels his breath hitch at the sight of you stirring, and his grips on your wrists get tighter. His panting is louder and he can feel his balls tighten against you as he continues to desperately chase his high in your warm cunt. He needs to come inside you, with your wet heat tightening around him.

Your eyes slowly open to look up and see Loki above you, his hair fallen in a black curtain around his face. Your face is one of shock and then pleasure as you realize Loki’s taking you in your sleep.

Loki feels the pressure building, cursing under his breath as he sees you’re awake. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, and he bottoms out inside of you.

“Ohh Norns…” Loki groans as he begins to fuck you deeper, grabbing tightly onto your hip and chasing his high. The moans coming out of you now are enough to send him over the edge. He pistons himself inside of you, and with a final hard thrust he feels the coil in his core snap, coming hard into your tender cunt. A shuddering wave of relief washes over him as he spills his seed inside of you while he moans your name.

The air is filled with the two of you panting loudly, as Loki continues to gently thrust into you, savoring the moment. He releases your wrists, and begins to nuzzle in your hair, breathing in deeply. You feel like home to him.

-----

Peachyjinx Masterlist

#loki smut #loki x female reader #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki smut #fic request

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midseo · 4 months ago

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themosleyreview · 8 months ago

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The Mosley Review: Bad Boys: Ride or Die

There is an important lesson being taught here to filmmakers that step into a franchise they are fans of. Fans of a franchise can be the most devoted and best choice to continue on the franchise, but if they are not in service of the story, the characters or the identity of the franchise, then they aren't the right one to take it on. You cannot come in with your own biases, agendas or what your idea of what the franchise is. True fans of a franchise know this and take that lesson to heart and deliver an outstanding entry and that's what this directing duo has done yet again. The Bad Boys franchise has always been about the classic buddy cop relationship that keeps you engaged in between the amazing action. This franchise has a strong beating heart of love and fun at its core and this film keeps that heart pumping at a hardy pace. The previous film was a welcomed return that had its moments of flare, stylistic action and comedy, but it focused on the story and the humanity of the characters first. That same elegance of storytelling continues in this new entry and it may be a bit more kinetic, sometimes overwhelming, but it still lands strongly in the category of greatness.

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence return as our favorite dynamic duo Detective Lieutenant Mike Lowry and Detective Lieutenant Marcus Burnett and they haven't skipped a beat. The magnetic chemistry between them is what keeps you engaged and I loved that this film once again drives home that brotherly love they have for one another. Like the last film, they both deal with their mortality in a unique way as they are older now. Mike has an unexpected growth in personality and I loved that he isn't as perfect anymore. You see him deal with a personal disorder that he must overcome and it is pretty inspiring the way Will portrays it. Marcus gets a new lease on life and lets go of the whiney tone and actually has more pep in his step. In a sense, Mike and Marcus switched perspectives and role types as Marcus has become the more reckless and Mike has become the more cautious. I loved his spirituality which made for some great moments of comedy where Martin truly shined the brightest. Vanessa Hudgens and Alexander Ludwig return as AMMO teammates Kelly and Dorn and they were both fantastic yet again. They weren't an after thought and they both were a powerhouse in the action and held their own when on screen with Mike and Marcus. Paola Núñez was awesome yet again and now as Captain of the Miami PD, Rita Secada. I loved her strength in the film and her chemistry with Mike and Marcus is still strong. Its a mild spoiler, but I hated the fact that her and Mike didn't end up together. Ioan Gruffudd was good as Adam Lockwood and its always great to see him on screen. Joe Pantoliano is always a welcomed face and seeing him as Captain Howard one last time was heartwarming. Jacob Scipio returns as Mike's son, Armando Aretas and he was just as badass and deadly. I liked the strained avenue that Mike and Armando go down as their father and son relationship is slowly being built. Eric Dane enters the franchise as the new threat and I liked him as James McGrath. He was cunning, quick and brutal and wasn't about world domination. I liked the history behind the character even if his motivation was a bit boring. Dennis Greene returns as Reggie McDonald and he has always been the butt of the joke in the past films since his iconic entrance. I loved that in this film, he finally earns respect and he becomes the MVP of the film in an amazing scene.

Composer Lorne Balfe returns with an absolute knockout of a score. Not only does he have his unique touch of intensity, but he continued to incorporate, modulate and evolve the iconic Bad Boys score and themes by original composer Mark Mancina. It drives me up the wall when composers don't use the iconic themes of a franchise and I loved that Lorne kept it alive and flowing throughout the film in multiple variations. The action in this film was top of the line and felt classical in its practical execution. It was gritty, bloody fun that had me smiling from ear to ear. There is a bridge sequence that leads to the iconic Bad Boys shot, but that scene felt a little disjointed and dizzying in the placement of characters. There is a feeling of finality to the franchise as it sort of gives a loving look back at the past films with fun parallels and role reversals. Directing duo Adil & Bilall truly love Bad Boys and it shows in every inch of the screen from the action, the character development and comedy. They have done a magnificent job in delivering an even better entry than the last and I can't wait to own the 4K Bluray. This is definitely the best action film of the year so far! Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#bad boys ride or die #will smith #martin lawrence #venessa hudgens #alexander ludwig #Paola Núñez #Ioan Gruffudd #joe pantoliano #jacob scipio #eric dane #dennis greene #tiffany haddish

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