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heeliopheelia · 3 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐑𝐎

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.7k

warnings: hoon’s quite suggestive, jake’s hinting suggestive content but it’s really up to your own interpretation lmaoo, kissing

a/n: yayyy, this one has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER!! so glad to finally put it out...

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

You can’t help but chuckle into his lips, teeth clashing slightly when his cold hands make contact with the skin underneath your top. Heeseung pulls away from the kiss, raising his eyebrow at your behavior before realizing that the reason for your laughter comes from the touch of hands.

Already knowing his ill intentions of tickling you by his expression, you put your hands over his and speak before you can even think of your words first.

“Bro, don’t even-”

Your words are interrupted with a loud scoff. “What did you just call me, you little witch?”

“Hey!”

“You see, things like that really make me rethink our relationship.”

You burst out laughing away before shoving his face away gently. “You’re so mean.”

“You’re the mean one for even letting such words come to your mind while addressing me.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile before grabbing his neck and trying to smush your lips together. A whine rips out of your throat when he denies you your kiss and looks at you as if you were crazy.

“Just come here, you dramatic ass! I haven’t seen you in a whole week!”

Heeseung flicks your nose instead. “Exactly! You haven’t seen me in an entire week and the first word that comes to your mind is bro. Really?”

You groan loudly, throwing your head back as you prepare yourself for the next fifteen minutes of bickering with your boyfriend. “Oh my god-”

PARK JAY

“Why would you ever call me that, oh my god.”

His frown is enough to make you burst out with chuckles. You grab onto his arm as you catch up to him, letting the glass door of the small convenience store shut behind you.

“I thought that was funny,” you chirp up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“And in public too? You really want me to go gray before my thirties, don’t you?”

You raise your arm up and run your hand through his soft hair, pretending to actually consider his question. “I think you’d actually look rather hot with salt-pepper hair, you know? You’d look ravishing with any hairstyle, really.”

Jay sends you an unamused look as you keep giggling. “Sweet words aren't gonna get you anywhere, miss.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” you finally fold as you slip your hand into his.

Jay intertwines your fingers without skipping a beat, before tugging on your arm and pulling you even closer to him.

“Please, don’t ever do that again. I might actually go crazy.”

SIM JAKE

You look with slight disappointment at your boyfriend occupied with his game – too occupied to notice you’ve called him a bro instead of baby for the second time this past five minutes. Sitting boredly on his bed, you sigh again.

“What is it, angel?” Jake asks, eyes drawn to the screen and never sparing you a look.

You never minded when he spent his evenings gaming, you know everyone has their own stress relievers, but tonight you were just so damn bored you didn’t know what else to do.

“Nothing, bro,” you snap a little sharper than intended, slightly irked by his innocent negligence. “I’m gonna order some take out. What do you want?”

Only then, couple seconds of silence later, your words seem to click and Jake pauses his game and turns to you with a slightly perplexed expression. “Wait… Could you repeat that?”

You roll your eyes. “I said, I’m gonna order som-”

“No, that word you’ve just called me,” he cuts you off with a pout. “Why would you say that?”

You shrug, dragging out your upset act although there’s barely a spark of annoyance in your system by now.

“Dunno. Maybe I just wanted my boyfriend to pay attention to me finally after I’ve been begging for it for an hour now.”

Jake coos at you before standing up and walking over to you, abandoning his game completely and engulfing you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles into your neck as you fall backwards on his bedsheets, your boyfriend on top of you. He kisses up a trail up to your jawline, then moves to your lips for a moment and dragging it out longer and longer. “Lemme make it up to you, huh?”

PARK SUNGHOON

“What’s gotten you so quiet?” Sunghoon asks as he nudges you with his hip, standing right beside you.

You finish washing your face before patting it dry with a towel, ignoring his questioning look as he pierces you through the mirror. You put the towel next to the sink before sighing.

“I don’t know, bro,” you say, biting your smile back as you notice his eyebrows raising up at the unusual nickname. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Sunghoon snorts quietly before turning to face you, leaning his hip against the marble counter. “Really?”

You look at him with fake confusion, tilting your head to the side as you blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

“If I remember correctly, I was just blowing your back out ten minutes ago and now you’re here calling me this fraternal slur?” He claps back, smiling lazily as your eyes go wide at his bold words.

“Sunghoon! Oh my god,” you gasp, smacking his bare chest with your towel. “Have you got no shame?”

He barks out a laugh before walking up to you and grabbing you by your hips. “Maybe that’ll make you think twice before trying your stupid shit on me again.” And as these words leave his mouth, he’s leaning down and smacking his lips onto yours, already pulling you to your bedroom again.

KIM SUNOO

“A WHAT?”

Your arms fall to your sides, and you watch as your beloved boyfriend goes into a fucking spiral over a nickname that’s just slipped out by an accident. “Sunoo, baby, please, calm d-”

“I know you did not just call me bro. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You follow him out of the kitchen from where he storms out, an outraged expression on his face. You stifle your laughter and put on a serious facade as he drops down on the couch with an irritated huff, muttering under his nose about how unbelievable you were being.

You take a seat next to him and place your hand on his thigh. “I swear, I only said that out of habit.”

“Yeah, what’s next in the store for me?” He asks and this time you can’t help but chuckle. “No, tell me. When should I be prepared for you to start calling me homie or gang?”

“It’s not that serious!” You laugh in his face, only making his expression more sour. But how can you help it when he looks at you as if you’ve just pissed in his cereal bowl?

“I’ve literally never been more offended in my life.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pepper his cheeks with kisses, hoping this will ease him out sooner. “I’m sorry, my beloved, my heart, my everything.”

“Keep talking and you might be forgiven somewhere in the future.”

YANG JUNGWON

“I was thinking about buying that one perfume lately,” you say suddenly, eyes planted at the tv as the commercial reminded you of your last trip to the mall.

“Are you sure?” Jungwon hums, resting his head over yours that’s leaned on his shoulder. “It was rather expensive, no? I don’t want you regretting buying it two days later.”

“I know, bro,” you groan and turn your face to bury it in his neck. You don’t notice his head tilting to look at you a little questionably. “That’s why I’m thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ll actually commit.”

There’s a brief silence before his sweet voice follows after the kiss he presses to your hair.

“I don’t think that’s my name, baby.”

You pull away, slightly confused, blinking up at your boyfriend. “What?”

“Out of all the nicknames you’ve given me, I liked that one the least.”

It takes you a moment to click and finally comprehend his words, and when you do, you let out a small huff at his still rather soft way with words.

You wrap your arms around his middle. “Oh… Sorry, I didn’t actually mean to say that.”

“It’s okay,” he assures quickly, bringing you closer to his warm chest, a steady heartbeat beating underneath his sweatshirt.

“Well, which one do you like the most?” You ask, implying to his previous thought.

Jungwon ponders for a moment. “Hm, I don’t know. I like all of them, really. Won is pretty nice, or my love… I like dumpling surprisingly a lot too.”

You can’t help but laugh at his answer, mind barely recalling the one and only time you jokingly referred to him as a dumpling while you pinched on his dimpled cheek lovingly.

“Gosh, you’re so cute.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

“Can you pass me the salt, bro?” You ask your boyfriend who’s sitting on your left.

You’re too focused on frowning upon the bland food you’ve made to notice how Riki’s eyebrows furrowed up at his new nickname.

After not having a response in the following minute, you turn to him with surprise as you notice the look on his face.

“I don’t know, sis, I think your hands are fully capable, no?” He chirps at you and you gape at him with confusion before the realization dawns on you.

You snort, shaking your head at your boyfriend. “Don’t be a child, I didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out.”

Riki hums. “Dunno, it sounded pretty natural to me, sis. Almost as if it was your regular nickname for me, sis.”

“Stop it!” You whine out, dropping your fork before glaring at the smirking man on your left. “I didn’t mean it. Now, give me a kiss.”

You pucker your lips and lean forward, only to be met with his hand pressed flat to your mouth. Your eyebrows shoot high as he chuckles at you.

“Sorry but I’m not into incestuous relationships.”

“Riki, c’mon!” You groan, kicking his shin underneath the table harmlessly.

He cups your cheeks with a laugh and squishes your face with his fingers. “‘m just teasing,” he muses before leaning in and closing the gap between you.

permanent taglist @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @seungiesluv @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 1 month

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Burn

My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios

Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.

You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.

“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.

“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.

“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.

You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.

“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.

“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”

“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.

“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.

“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —

“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.

Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.

You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.

“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.

“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”

He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.

“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.

Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.

Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.

“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.

“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.

“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.

“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”

In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.

And he wants to spend it all with you.

“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.

“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”

“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion

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shiplessoceans · 9 months

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Good Omens S2 Episode 6 confession scene speculation:

Aziraphale didn't respond to the love confession from Crowley because he didn't realise it was one until Crowley mentioned the Nightingale and kissed him.

Allow me to explain.

---

Aziraphale interrupted Crowley to give him the news from Metatron, so when Crowley starts his spiel:

"We've been together a long time, I could always rely on you...we're a group....we've spent our existence pretending we aren't...if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together then we can...we don't need heaven/hell they're toxic...you and me whatya say?"

Aziraphale interprets everything Crowley is saying as his rebuttal to the 'good news', not a separate declaration of his feelings.

What Aziraphale just told him shaped Crowley's confession, instead of finally telling Aziraphale how he feels about him, he's now backed into a corner and trying to change Aziraphales mind. Offering to run off with him as the alternative to the Metatron's offer.

The repetition of the phrase: "go off together" from the bandstand fight in season one feels very intentional here. It would be easy for Aziraphale to think 'this is just Crowley's response when the divine plan interferes, he always wants to run away'.

Aziraphale believes that he just needs to make Crowley understand the situation and opportunity that this is and everything will be alright:

"Come with me! To heaven, I can run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference!"

Crowley is looking defeated already, in his mind he's bared his soul and Aziraphale is a brick wall. So if he can't tempt the angel into staying with the love he has for him (which Crowley thinks he's declared but he really hasn't), he'll get him to change his mind by evoking something else he loves:

"You can't leave this bookshop."

Aziraphale scoffs fondly. 'Silly demon, you were just suggesting we run off together and abandon it only a moment ago!' He thinks Crowley is trying to 'work' him here and the old serpent might even be selflessly trying to spare the angel the loss of his beloved bookshop in order to restore Crowley and help the world, which would be just like him to be so covertly protective. So Aziraphale reassures him, a bookshop doesn't matter to him as much as Crowley and the world. It's just a collection of objects really. Humanity is more important. Crowley is far more important.

"Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever."

Crowley is crushed. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the two of them. So he covers his sadness with his glasses, walls back up, and he tries to leave.

Aziraphale is baffled. He just reassured Crowley that he was alright with change if it means things could be better. Why is Crowley leaving? Is he worried that they won't spend time together anymore? That he won't have time for his friend as a supreme archangel?

"Crowley come back!....we can be together, angels!...I need you!"

Crowley can't even look at him in that moment. Why would Aziraphale say that? The two of them together only if he accepts heaven again? Conditional love? That's not fair. It hurts.

Aziraphale meanwhile is hurt by Crowley's turning away, his silence and a bit incensed at what he perceives as ingratitude. Aziraphale didn't really want to go back to heaven, but he'd do it if it meant Crowley could be happy and safe and Crowley doesn't seem to appreciate that:

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

Crowley went through the fall. He asked the questions. Did his best to protect humanity and it has brought him nothing but suffering. He's well aware what's on offer. He's seen heavens cruelty and capriciousness firsthand and been burned by it repeatedly. How can Aziraphale choose them over him and still think everything will work out?

"I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

Crowley loves Aziraphale's big foolish optimism and kind heart and he thinks it's the very thing taking the angel away from him. This isn't how it was supposed to go. It's all slipping away from him.

"Listen. You hear that?"

Aziraphale can't even keep up at this point.

This is what comes of thousands of years of 'not talking about it' and living under threat of holy retribution if they are discovered. They're talking past each other, having two different conversations. Obfuscation and code has become their communication medium by necessity and it's failing them.

It's frustrating Aziraphale that he can't get a grip on this conversation:

"I don't hear anything!"

And Crowley drops the bomb.

"That's the point. No Nightingale's."

Oh. Suddenly we're on the same page. You can see from Aziraphale's face that he understands to what Crowley's referring. The Nightingale in Berkely square. Angels dining at the Ritz...

"You idiot! We could have been... us."

Crowley's talking about the big unspoken thing between them. Their relationship, thousands of years of dancing around each other like binary stars gravitationally and inexorably drawn together over and over. The thing Aziraphale was beginning to be bold about, (dancing notwithstanding) before Metatron came along and distracted him.

And it seems to Aziraphale that gut-wrenchingly, Crowley is finally acknowledging their mutual love only to point out that it's gone. Lost. They could have finally been together, an us, but Aziraphale ruined it because he's an 'idiot'.

After being quietly in love with Crowley for years, for Aziraphale to have his offer to return to heaven together and his unspoken love rejected in one fell swoop is devastating.

Overcome, he begins to cry and turns away, not wanting Crowley to see how hurt he is.

Crowley for his part is desperate. He has to do something. Maybe Aziraphale doesn't understand what Crowley is offering him! One fabulous kiss and va-voom right?

In a final desperate act, he kisses Aziraphale. Tries for passionate. Tries to show him that he loves him and show him what they could be because his words clearly aren't working.

Aziraphale is shocked and angry. He wants to kiss Crowley of course. But not like this. Not as a taunt. Crowley just told him their chance is over so what else could this be but a final insult. A kiss to punish the angel. It's a cruelty he didn't believe Crowley capable of.

And despite how mean it is. It's also what Aziraphale has wanted for so long he can't help but melt into it for a brief moment. Allow himself to feel what it would have been like to be that close before losing it forever.

Then Crowley lets go and Aziraphale breaks away on a sob, feeling wounded. Hurt beyond words that Crowley would use his feelings against him like this, gutted to be losing the man he loves and not understanding why.

The worst part is that Aziraphale doesn't have it in him to hate Crowley, even if he thinks the kiss was a cruel gesture. He still loves him. So he gathers himself and does what Aziraphale does when someone hurts him.

He forgives.

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for rejecting my attempt to restore you and make you happy, I forgive you for rejecting God and heaven yet again, I forgive you for acknowledging our love and then rejecting it. I forgive you for kissing me, giving me a fleeting glimpse of what we could have been to each other. I love you and I forgive you all that.

Crowley is done. Breath knocked out of him on a last sigh. He tried. And the Angel forgave him yet again for something he never asked or wanted forgiveness for. He doesn't want to be penitent for loving Aziraphale. Shouldn't have to apologise or regret wanting them to be together.

"Don't bother."

Aziraphale looks surprised Crowley is leaving because he genuinely is. He can't understand how it's all gone so horribly wrong. He gasps, shocked and can't even call out to him to stop, come back.

He cries, touches his lips where Crowley had kissed him. Tries to gather himself and barely has 10 seconds before Metatron is back.

At the end of that scene:

Crowley thinks he confessed his love and Aziraphale chose heaven over him because he didn't want to stop being a demon.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley rejected heaven, then rejected Aziraphale and threw their love back in his face as a final unkindness.

Aziraphale leaves and goes to heaven anyway because in his mind he's already lost Crowley and there is nothing left to stay for. If he doesn't have Crowley he needs a new purpose and it's going to be saving the world. He'll convince himself of it. And he'll push that broken heart down and the pain will fade if he just smiles through it. It will be enough, to make heaven better. It has to be. Maybe if he proves that he can make a difference Crowley might see the error of his ways and speak to him again? Surely. Hopefully.

---

Both of them are hurt and confused and lost and oh dear hell I really feel for them.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 meta #good omens s2e6 #gos2 spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 analysis #gos2 meta #ineffable #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens spoilers #gos2

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smileysuh · 27 days

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comfort cuisine - TEASER

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink.

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue.

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

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#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny nct #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut

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holylulusworld · 8 months

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Indecent Proposal (1)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo Round 5: free space - mafia au

Square filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Free Space

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of illegal activities/mafia business/murder, strong reader, mentions of breeding/surrogate, wish for children, shady deals, shitty boyfriend, reader doesn't take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters

Words: 1,5k

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Babe, how do I look?” Your boyfriend asks, almost stumbling over his words as the men he was hoping to meet at the fancy party walk inside the room.

Well, they don’t walk like normal people. They are stepping inside the room, stopping in their tracks to look at the people in the room. It looks like the crowd parts like the Red Sea to form a path only for them.

Steven Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. – Two names you must know if you ever heard of New York City and its mob.

They are as good-looking as they are dangerous. A deadly combination of beauty and the beast hidden behind blue eyes.

If you don’t want to end up six feet under, you don’t mess with them. Or even look their way too long.

“Did you put on the underwear I told you to?”

“What has this to do with the party?” You sigh, as you still don’t know why Scott brought you here.

You’ve been dating for a few months, and you had hoped that tonight, he’d do more than the bare minimum. He’s not a bad guy, but an awful partner.

A criminal too. Not a criminal mastermind, but you already figured out that the small business he runs is far from legal.

“It’s important, babe,” you roll your eyes at the awful pet name. You hate it and told him so before. “Okay, don’t say anything stupid. Or, just look pretty and don’t say anything at all.”

“What?” Now you square your jaw. You don’t understand what has gotten into Scott until you lift your eyes off him to meet two pairs of blue ones. “Oh…”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes,” Scott looks pathetic when he bows for the heads of the mob in town. “I’m honored to meet you again. Thank you for having me.”

The men ignore Scott and his offered hand. Instead, they look at you. Steve almost shoves your boyfriend aside as he holds out his hand to take yours.

“I see you followed our invitation,” he lowers himself to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You shiver. He seems so polite, and kind. But behind his blue eyes, you can see the beast wanting to break free.

“Stevie don’t scare her off right away,” you are a little overwhelmed when James Barnes turns his attention toward you. He takes your other hand and kisses your knuckles, glancing at your ring finger. “No ring, doll? He didn’t ask you to be his forever?”

“No-“ You’re usually not shy, or meek. But these men crowd you like prey and have their hands on you. You know they are in a relationship, but right now, they look at you as if you are their latest meal. “We’re only dating for a few months.”

“A shame,” Steve cups your chin, making you whimper. You never felt like this before. Confused and aroused at the same time. These men are strangers, but oddly you feel safe in their presence. “What do you say? Shall we lead this to a more private area?”

You don’t know why they are interested in leading you and your boyfriend to a private area, but this can’t be good. People like them never have good intentions, and you assume Steve and Bucky are no exception.

“I’m good here…I mean. You should enjoy your party. Don’t you have to greet all the people you invited?” You nervously babble.

“Doll, they don’t care if we greet them or not. They are only here to show respect to us,” Bucky runs his index finger up your arm. He smirks as you involuntarily shudder at his touch. “Let’s lead this to our office.”

“Scott,” you dip your head to glance at your boyfriend. He looks up at Steve as if the man is carrying a halo on top of his head. “Scott!”

“Babe don’t be rude. We should follow them to the office,” your boyfriend is no help. He’s wringing his hands while staring at Steve Rogers. God, he’s such a pathetic little boy. You just see it now when you watch him interact with two real men.

“Fine,” you snap at Scott if only to end his pathetic act. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please lead the way.”

“Do you want a drink or a canapé doll? We can ask the maid to get you something you’ll like,” Bucky sits next to you on the couch, one hand running up and down his thigh, the other creeping toward your thigh. He brushes his metal finger over your exposed skin, barely listening to what his partner has to say.

“Buck, did you listen?”

“Seal the deal,” the brunette clicks his tongue, “I’ll take care of the main act in the meantime. You know I don’t care about the conditions. We already negotiated them. You can take care of the details.”

“I want to take over more important tasks,” Scott suddenly says. He glances at you, and then he looks at Steve. “Sir, I agree on the terms. I’ll do anything to prove that you can trust me.”

“Does she agree on our terms too?” Steve dips his head to watch you stop Bucky’s hand from stroking your thigh. “Buck, we are talking here.”

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “All you do is talk to that slimy little bastard. Give him what he wants so we can get what we want.”

“Mr. Lang, you know that if we seal the deal, that you cannot break it. We have rules for a reason.”

“She will agree,” Scott hastily says. You snap your head toward your boyfriend, wondering what he’s talking about. “Right, Y/N? You’ll help me with the deal.”

“I told you that I’m not going to do anything illegal,” you hiss at Scott. “I looked the other way when you sold stolen phones to my colleagues, but I won’t actively help you. I’m not a criminal.”

“You didn’t talk about the deal with her?” Bucky suddenly jumps up to fist Scott’s jacket. “You dare to come to our house and lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie, Sir…Mr. Barnes. Y/N said she finds you hot, and all. She even talked about ending up between the two of you to her friend.”

“You sick fuck spied on me and Maria?” You growl at Scott. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes…I’m sure she’ll help you have a baby and all…”

“Baby what?” You furrow your brows. “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. What is going on here?”

“Well, we want you to become our surrogate. Bucky and I love each other dearly, but I cannot give him what he needs, nor can he give me what I want. A baby…an heir. We were looking for the perfect woman, with the perfect bloodline.”

“I-what?” The room suddenly caves in. You feel dizzy and grab the edge of the couch. “You want me to be your breeder?”

“No, doll,” Steve walks toward the couch to crouch down in front of you. “We want you to spend time with us…or rather between us.” He grins. “I want you to have my baby. And then you’ll have Bucky’s. We haven’t figured out whose allowed to breed you first.”

“Breed me?” Oh. God. Your pussy just clenched around nothing. If not for the anger taking over, you’d gladly jump Steve’s bones to have all the babies he wants. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy!”

“We believed he talked about the deal with you, doll. Please, don’t be mad at us,” Steve purrs, and runs his hand over your cheek. “We only wanted what we deserve. The perfect woman having our babies.”

“She will agree…” Scott nervously says. He looks at you, hoping you’ll agree to whatever the two men holding his fate in their hands want. “Right babe?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” you jump up, and push Steve aside. “What did you believe will happen when you bring me here to offer my uterus and pussy to these two? Huh? That I’ll just bend over the desk and let them have their way with me!”

“I-uh…kinda…yes…”

“Pathetic,” you click your tongue as you glance at Bucky. He cracks his knuckles, ready to rough Scott up a little for messing with them. “I knew you were no good. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct.”

You dip your head to watch Steve walk toward his partner. They are looking at you, like lions ready to pounce. Those two men set their eyes on you, and you are not foolish enough to believe that they’ll leave you alone.

If you end up in their clutches, you’ll make sure they only get their hands on you to your conditions. “You want me and my womb?”

“More than anything,” Bucky purrs. He steps behind you to place both of his hands on your belly. “And I can tell, Stevie, and will love filling you up.”

Scott hopefully looks at you. This is the moment he was waiting for. He’ll be a made man soon, and his ex will see, he's more than the loser she sees in him.

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Part 2

#steve rogers #anyfandomgoesbingo #bucky barnes #stucky bingo #stucky x reader #stucky x you #mafia au #mobster!steve rogers #mobster!bucky barnes #Indecent Proposal (1)#scott lang

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writerpeach · 5 months

Text

A White Christmas

IVE An Yujin x Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

1153 words, semi-smutless but still 18+, unedited, just a little something short and sweet for Christmas

part 4 of annyeongz

It’s nearly midnight.

The fireplace crackles on a cold Christmas Eve, but you’re not lacking in warmth one bit. With Wonyoung and Yujin snuggled up next to you, a warm mug of cocoa in your hands, and this gorgeous snowfall that doesn’t seem to have any end in sight, you have everything you could ask for. There’s a marathon of cheesy movies playing in the background that’s gone mostly ignored—but you enjoy the cheesy, the clichés, and the overly-happy-ever-after endings, because sometimes a little bit of escapism hits the spot.

Wonyoung seems completely fascinated by snow, like every snowstorm is the first one she’s ever seen. And there’s something so special about it, how the snowflakes stick to the window, slowly blanketing everything as the night carries on; there’s something so pure and innocent about the never-ending white flurries—not unlike these two pretty girls on either side of you, although certainly their purity has been in question at times.

Yujin is more focused on the fireplace, her soft brown eyes watching intently while Wonyoung indulges in stealing little pecks from the side of your cheek, the corner of your mouth, wherever she can land kisses without you turning your head, whenever the inclination hits her. It’s not dissimilar the way the snowflakes coat the ground, falling here, falling there, and everywhere in between.

“When are we opening presents?” Wonyoung asks out of nowhere, her bright eyes look up at you expectantly, as her plump lips look so inviting for another kiss that you can’t help dive into.

You look at the time and cock an eyebrow; there’s still a few minutes left until the clock strikes midnight. Your finger runs along the rim of your warm mug, and it’s hard not wanting to oblige Wonyoung as you take a sip, because patience and her go together like oil and water. Despite your efforts, Wonyoung knows you’re weak for that adorable pouty face, and you can only fight it for so long,

“When it’s Christmas,” Yujin pipes up, a smile spreading over her pretty lips. “But only good girls get presents…”

Watching the pout deepen on Wonyoung’s lips, you look around the room, at the stockings above the fireplace, and the presents underneath the tree that are mostly for you. (Because god, these girls are impossible to shop for when they can buy anything their heart desires.)

You can only imagine what’s in those wrapped boxes piled around the tree. Car keys? An expensive watch? A dozen different gift cards with an obscenely almost unlimited limit? There’s nothing that you really need, but you can’t deny these two another chance of spoiling you against your better judgment.

“But I am a good girl. Right, daddy?” It doesn’t take long for you to share a laughter with Yujin, as if Wonyoung hasn’t behaved anything less than sinful.

“Pretty sure Santa is going to skip right on over this place then. After the way you were screaming daddy in the shower earlier...you might be on the naughty list forever, princess." Yujin smirks devilishly, and Wonyoung huffs out loud, like she’s been told Christmas is canceled.

“Fine. Santa can’t give me what I want anyways. Only daddy can…” Wonyoung whines cutely, nuzzling her head against your shoulder and kisses into your neck. You hesitate giving any reaction, knowing all too well what she really wants. It isn’t under the tree, or in the stocking—

“Dear daddy, I want a big load on my face for Christmas.” Wonyoung says it all cute and pouty, which makes it even more absurd, but she does that on purpose, knowing that the innocent girl facade is her secret weapon to getting what she wants. You roll your eyes and set the warm mug down, as you know if this keeps up you’re not going to finish it.

“But you get that every day. Sometimes more than once. It has to be something you don't get often," Yujin says. Wonyoung shoots a glare in her direction and looks offended that Yujin could ever suggest otherwise, as if she’s forgotten how regularly she’ll whine to get whatever she wants.

“I didn’t get it yesterday. Daddy came inside Yujinnie. Twice. And I only got a taste. So that doesn't count. I need another big, creamy load for Christmas. An extra thick one.”

Wonyoung makes this the most ludicrous request, as if she's asking for the last slice of cake.

The thing is, Wonyoung is as insatiable as Yujin. There have been countless occasions where you've unloaded deep inside one of these two beauties and before you're even halfway recovered, the other starts tugging your dick back to hardness so she can have her turn. You know what they’re capable of, and that’s precisely the issue—

“Don’t be greedy on Christmas, princess,” Yujin warns, and the look on her face makes you shiver, even if you aren't even on the receiving end of that look. "Daddy can stuff your stocking later."

Wonyoung ignores it, of course, because she’s doing this bratty routine she’s done a thousand times, trying to get her way. There’s surprising restraint from Yujin, who’s always so eager to add fuel to the fire, as if it gets her off just to have Wonyoung push boundaries, because they both know they have you wrapped around their pretty little finger.

"But I've been so good. Haven't I, daddy? I sucked your dick this morning while you were still sleeping, until you came in my mouth... and when Yujin was riding you earlier in the kitchen, I waited so patiently until she was finished. And then I cleaned her all up when you came inside of her, daddy…”

"Oh my god. Shut up," Yujin groans and leans in for a kiss to stop the whining. You look at the time—midnight has come and gone, and these two are already just going at it, swapping saliva right over your lap, and it’s better than anything that’ll fit under that tree.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Yujin says and leans in to exchange kisses with you, parting her lips for this deep embrace that you get lost in far too easily. You’re too breathless to respond, because Yujin’s kisses always leave your head spinning in the best possible way.

“Merry Christmas,” you say in return, as she gives one more lingering kiss, and you both know Wonyoung is right there waiting her turn, getting all whiny for attention. “Merry Christmas, princess.”

You kiss Wonyoung, and it’s like you can taste Yujin on her lips, which makes it seem as if you’re kissing them both at the same time. Not that you have complaints about being caught in the middle of these two making out, because when you’re not swapping between their lips, you’re getting the best possible view.

“So…presents?” Wonyoung asks, which makes Yujin giggle at how shameless she is, as she goes back to sealing those lips shut with another kiss. And you know that whatever happens in this room is going to end how it always does, with them both sharing you—

And that is their ultimate Christmas gift.

---------

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy Monday!

Wanted to put out a little thing to end the year on, a little epilogue to the annyeongz series, something that wasn't a billion words long and didn't have a reliance of smut.

This year was a bit difficult, but I'm so thankful for everyone who continues to read, comment, send asks (even though im bad at answering), or just lurks on this mess of a blog 💞

#IVE #Wonyoung #Yujin #reader insert #christmas #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #annyeongz

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comicaurora · 6 months

Note

Nick Bostrom's "Fable of the Dragon Tyrant," which CGP Grey adapted into a video, left me feeling unsatisfied, and I got a certain unsettling vibe about the entire story.

I don't think it was the dragon's lack of agency, that just makes it an unusually traditional Western dragon.

You're a master at picking narratives apart to figure out why they don't satisfy. Do you have any insight, opinions, or cracktheories about why this story might be unsatisfying to some folks?

Probably because it's a very unsubtle metaphor casting the dragon as death, and death itself as a cruel, malevolent beast devouring and subjugating humanity for its own whims. This is very much intentional on the part of the writer. The paradigm of the story is that the dragon is huge, terrifying and incalculably cruel, and everyone lives their lives in the shadow of its terror or are just too deluded to recognize that it's COMING TO EAT THEM OH GOD

Intrinsic in this metaphorical structure is the idea that the dragon, aka death, is an artificial imposition on the natural order, and if we just got rid of the big ol' mean dragon, everybody would live forever and be fine. Accepting that the dragon exists is framed as a sign of desperation or even cowardice. This is an understandable read when facing a monster that only SEEMS timeless and inevitable (like LeGuin's thoughts comparing the current state of capitalism to the historical acceptance of the divine right of kings) but becomes bizarre when applied to something as legitimately factual as biological death. It's not even framed as unnatural death - the dragon specifically gets sent mostly old people. The metaphor is very explicitly about trying to frame death from old age as a big horrible dragon that everyone only thinks is unstoppable.

I get what they're going for here. The purpose of this story is to make the audience question if death is a true inevitability or if it can be fought, staved off, even defeated. But in the process, the story frames the systems of the world that have formed around death - doctors, pallative caregivers, will executors - as macabre gears in the machine dedicated to the genocidal cruelty of feeding the dragon.

In the dragon tyrant framing, these people only exist to make the rest of the world more okay with flinging themselves down the gullet of the dragon and to streamline the process by which everybody dies. By casting death as the enemy, everybody whose jobs are based on the compassionate act of comforting and aiding people suffering from loss become reframed as collaborators with the incalculably evil enemy, and everyone who's ever accepted their own death becomes a loser. This is a deeply cruel way to frame people who dedicate their lives to helping people through one of the hardest and most tragic aspects of life.

Damn, that's fucked up. Look at this eloquent idiot, explaining why we should be okay with letting a big dragon eat us because it's the natural order. Clearly he is wrong and it's not debasing at all to want to stay alive and not get eaten by a big dragon. This is a fallacy of false analogy: death is like being eaten by a big mean dragon. All his arguments look ridiculous when applied to getting eaten by a big mean dragon, therefore they must be ridiculous when applied to dying when your organs start failing because they've been running nonstop for nine decades and biological systems accumulate wear and tear like literally everything else in the universe.

Entropy increases; systems break down, from DNA to planetary orbits. Successfully shoot down the dragon and you'll end up outliving everything you thought was eternal, even the stars. The goal of immortality isn't really to personally witness the sun exploding, it's to have more good time. It's to make your twenties last into your sixties. It's to keep your back painless and your vision good for longer. We want to postpone the story's end as long as we can, and so we extrapolate "more time" into "I never want to die, I want to be young and healthy and hot forever" even though "forever" doesn't exist. To look to "forever" is to understand that your culture and language will drift, your home will eventually crumble out from under you, your shoreline will erode and change, your climate will transform, your tectonic plate will subduct or shatter, your moon's orbit will slow and tidally lock, and eventually your sun will start burning helium and cook your planet. You don't want "forever" to look like that, you want it to look like your twenties felt. But at that point you aren't fighting the Big Mean Dragon That Eats People, you're fighting the ocean and the biosphere and the earth and the stars, trying to hold them in place against entropy so your immortality can have an equally immortal world to enjoy it in. No, this argument doesn't want true immortality, it wants their twenties to last longer. But it can't admit that.

Back to the story. There's a condescending and spiteful tone in the narration. Death (being eaten by a big mean dragon) is OBVIOUSLY awful and we should all be fighting as hard as we can to make it stop happening. Even a child can see it.

The story even helpfully adds a lengthy moral explanation at the end, in case you didn't understand that the dragon was the inevitability of death and we should dedicate all our resources to figuring out how to make a big rocket and shoot it.

"Nobody should ever die" is generally understood to be a childish dream with extremely obvious and unpleasant consequences that would turn its realization into an unending and waking nightmare, and once out of the confines of easy metaphor, the story tries to act like that wasn't what it was just saying. But its more realistic proposed substitute, "It would be great if people could live longer and have more healthy, youthful years in them," is probably the world's most uncontroversial statement. This story frames it like a bold revelation that the world will attempt to beat down and crush out of a misguided acceptance that Big Mean Dragon comes for us all. It's a morality fable whose conclusion is "I hope science improves the length and quality of our lives, potentially even to the point where we never have to die at all," which has been the number one goal of huge swaths of science since the invention of agriculture. This is not a bold or controversial take. It's just being written as though we're all looking at the naked emperor and pretending he's wearing pants.

#asks #not aurora

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

Text

stop playing

3.8k, (dark) slasher!Joel x f!reader

Ty @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the slasher joel edit and movie poster. And @iamasaddie for the big girthy wrench and the mood board on the master list.

slasher Joel master list | spotify playlist

SUMMARY: Joel fixes and returns your car, pays you a visit, and stuffs you full of his cock and more. WARNINGS: I8+ unsafe dubcon P in V, creampie, m masturbation, crude language and degradation, knifeplay, superficial injury (cut), incidental pussy slap, fisting (be the change you want to see in the world), penetration with wrench A/N: If something sounds unappealing to you, please quietly skip the fic. This blog is kink-positive. Comments that could have a kink shaming effect may be removed, regardless of intent. Asks: @xdaddysprincessxx and 🔧 anon, ty

“Not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You shake your head no, catching his scruff against your cheek. “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.” You try to move and he pins you by your wrists.

------------

Joel is in his garage, under your car, finishing up. Yeah, he didn’t just tow it, he fixed it. Bet you're an ungrateful bitch about it. You're a brat, but god damn, you can take a dick. He’s never had anyone sink right down and ride him like that. He vividly recalls the sensation of being swallowed up. As blood rushes south, his cock strains his jumpsuit, still crusty with your combined juices. Every time he sees or smells it he thinks of how it all leaked out of your used up hole. He wipes his bicep on his forehead, then palms his growing bulge. He manages to ignore it while he finishes the repair, then rolls out from under your car.

He sits up on the roller, holding his big, heavy wrench against his thigh. He looks down at his arousal. He wonders if he's getting a beer belly as he sucks in his stomach to better see his engorged bulge. He unzips his jumpsuit all the way and pulls his T-shirt out from sticking under his pecs. Then he stands up with a groan and adjusts himself.

He sets his wrench aside and goes to the dingy old bathroom. His mom tried to make it nice, so there's soap and lotion and a little candle, but it hasn't been cleaned in forever. In the filthy mirror, he has motor oil all over his hands, and some on the side of his face. He takes his sleeves off and presses the hardness in his jumpsuit against the low sink as he washes up, then he takes his cock out and holds it in his hand. It's so fat he can barely get his own massive hand around it if he squeezes. You took it like a cock taking queen. He imagines that's what you are as he pumps the lotion into his hand.

He begins to stroke his raging erection and stares at himself in the mirror as he does it. The mirror lets him see a lot. His jumpsuit is hanging down, mostly out of the picture, the hems of his sleeves skimming the nasty floor as he strokes his cock. His hair is messed up. He rakes his free hand back through it. His forehead is sweating again as he runs his fist up and down his length. Cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted, head tilted back as he's beginning to grunt softly with the stroke of his hand. His white t-shirt, stained with oil, stretches over his strong chest and little belly with a little dip of looser fabric in between, under his pecs. His sleeves barely contain his arms and his forearm flexes as he jerks it.

With his other hand, he takes his boxers under his massive balls so he can see those too. He tilts his head down, casting a shadow over his eyes, mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. He wets his lips and moans approaching the finish. He looks at his cock in the mirror and pictures you sucking his balls. Nasty little sex kitten sucking them so good. For a moment, picturing you between his knees, he feels like you want him. . . until his thoughts are jolted back to how you left him. His jaw clenches and he wonders what to do with you. When you're only good for one thing, you better be real good at it. Cunt. He jerks himself thinking about how you probably take so many cocks. He wonders how much you could take.

He takes a deep breath, his cock twitches in his hand, and he groans as he cums into the sink. As he finishes coming, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. Under his weathered face, for a moment he sees a younger, sadder man before his nose twitches into a snarl and he rinses the cum down the sink.

As he goes to leave the bathroom, half his footsteps are clicking. Something is stuck in the bottom of his work boot. He lifts his foot to look at the sole, and he pries a tooth from between the rubber ridges. He tosses it in the toilet on his way out.

. . .

Joel changes out of his uniform, showers, and puts on jeans and a tight t-shirt. It’s dusk when he gets in your driver's seat and starts your car. Empty coke bottles, goody's pain relief, fast food receipts, empty packets of gum. There’s plenty of personal information about you, too. He could take you tonight, if he felt like it. Fuck you and dump you. Oh, not figuratively, literally. If he feels like it. If only you hadn’t left him. . . he would’ve let you go.

He pulls up google maps and types in your address. It’s a long ass drive, an hour and a half, but might be worth it, he thinks. “What the hell were ya doin’ out here,” he mutters to himself. He knows the answer– whoring. Of course your gas tank is empty. He’ll fill it up on your dime. He hasn’t decided what to do with you when he puts the car in reverse. He'll figure it out on the way.

As he's driving off, the heavy wrench slides off the roof of your car. "God damnit," he mutters and stops to pick it up. Before he gets back in the car, he pats his pocket and makes sure he has his switchblade. He calls his mom on the way to your house and tells her he needs to swing by for his extra key to the car. She asks him to stay for dinner.

—---------------

It’s only been a few days. You’ve been driving Joel’s car. You know he’ll come for it eventually, and that’s okay, you think. Depending on how pissed he is about you leaving him handcuffed on his bed and stealing his car. You think about him constantly, and it always turns you on. It’s making you irritable, living in a constant state of arousal. What’s wrong with you? He could kill you. He might still. And yet, you have half a mind to drive all the way back to his sad little camper just to chain him up and ride him again.

You’re home alone, watching TV when you hear a car park outside, then a car door closes. You look out the window and it’s your car. Your heart flutters. Then you hear another car door open and shut–Joel’s car–and the engine starts. He drives away in his car without so much as a glance toward your house. Your heart sinks and you’re disgusted with yourself.

You go out to your car and there’s a piece of paper under your windshield wiper. You unfold it and it says, “Take care, sweetheart.” There’s something on the other side. You turn it over. It’s a drawing. You can’t tell what it is until you turn it to the side and a chill runs down your spine–not just from the content, but the quality. It looks like a kid could have drawn it, but it’s so crude. The focal point is a detailed vagina, clit, hole, labia, and all, liquid leaking out of it. In much less detail, there are two legs spread with knees up, tits, and behind the tits, a picasso type face you presume is supposed to be you, based on the hair. Uneven eyes.

Something’s wrong with him. And, of course, something’s wrong with you–Because your heart sank when he drove away, but it sank more when you read, “take care.”

—

You think about him even more after that. Non-stop. You convince yourself he was never going to kill you. He was trying to scare you. It was a fucked up game. You wash the grisly t-shirt he gave you–rendered pointless with slashes through the front, and stains. You wear it and wash it and wear it and wash it, and it’s so fucked up.

A week or two later, you’re taking a walk in leggings and a tank top. You’re walking by some woods in an undeveloped stretch of your neighborhood, right before a big, vacant lot when you get an unsettling feeling. You jog the rest of the way home.

When you’re standing in front of your fridge cooling off with a cold glass of water, you hear metal on metal and look over to see your sliding glass door being pried open. Joel’s imposing form pauses in the doorway. Then he turns and tosses the crowbar outside. He shuts the door behind him. He’s holding a huge wrench and his other hand is flexing around nothing, fingers slightly wiggling. He’s wearing his mechanic jumpsuit and a scowl.

His voice is deep and gravely. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask as his boots thud ominously toward you. He’s so imposing, muscles begging for more room in his uniform. His nose twitches one side of his mouth into a smile, then he tilts his head and wets his lips. He lifts the wrench and lets the end of it fall heavily into his other massive hand. You stand frozen against the kitchen counter. You let him pin you to it with his hips, and that's not all. He puts the wrench down with a loud clunk on the faux granite. Then he plants his massive hands on either side of you, caging you to the counter. He presses his pelvis into you and the warmth of his semi-hard bulge makes you tingle. His belly presses into your middle. Your heart races. You wedge your hand between you and palm his bulge.

He laughs, nearly silently, then brings his mouth to your ear. “M’not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?”

You shake your head no and say, “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.”

You try to move and he pins you by your wrists. You knee his groin and when he falls backward, you run around the counter. He grabs his wrench and comes after you. You trip over a pair of shoes and he grabs a fistful of your shirt on your way to the floor, lessening your impact. You’re face-down on the carpet. he discards the wrench with a soft clunk and takes out his knife.

“Stop fuckin’ playin’,” he growls. He doesn’t let go of your shirt. He stabs through the fabric and slices all the way down to the bottom hem, then turns the blade upward and cuts the collar in one quick snap. You squirm under him. He puts all his weight on you, pushing his hard bulge against your ass. Then he lifts his pelvis off you, straddles your thigh, and shoves his hand between your legs, digging between your mound and the carpet to feel you through your leggings. You know they’re already damp. Joel opens and shuts his hand over your cunt, plucking the stretchy fabric out from your body and snapping it back against your pussy. Then he gets up on his knees, pulls the spandex out one last time, and stabs through it. He rips a big hole in the crotch. And he keeps stabbing and slicing at the fabric between your legs and then he nicks your inner thigh and you yelp.

“sorry, sweetheart.” he backs down your leg and gives the booboo a kiss. He slices the seat of your leggings more carefully, ripping them all the way open, then he presses the flat of the knife against one buttcheek, separating your crack more.

“Stop playin’,” he reminds you.

“Okay,” you whimper and stop fighting.

He puts his weight back on top of you, with his belly on your back and his knees straddling your thighs and his cock hard against your ass. He cups your exposed cunt and growls when he feels how wet you are. “There’s my sex kitten,” he murmurs. “Pussy’s dyin’ for it, ain’t she.”

“Just fuck me already,” you whine, disturbed by what a lack of sexual interest could possibly mean for you. Then you taunt, “Unless you can’t.”

He runs his thick fingers through your wet folds, then pushes one, then two, then three fat digits into you. He slowly pumps them and his cock swells against you. You twitch around him.

He sighs and says, “Course I can” and unzips his jumpsuit. “Only ‘cause I feel like it.” He spits loudly, then notches at your entrance and he’s even wider than you remember. He shoves himself into you, parting your core with his absurd girth.

“Mmmfuck,” he grunts. He retreats slightly then plunges in and you gasp as he bottoms out. “That what ya want?”

You get wetter around his cock and he begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm with your face pressed into the carpet. His hand engulfs the back of one knee to nudge it on the carpet, spreading your legs open more. He grunts as he pounds into you with the thickest cock you’ve ever had, even thicker than you remember.

“Nasty girl,” he rasps as the heft of his cock splits you open. “Take it like a real cockslut, don’t ya?”

Your nipples harden at his words and you whimper.

“But damn you can ride it, too,” he pants.

He grunts and moans as he buries his girth in you.

“More,” you whine, unsure why you have the constant urge to provoke him.

He pounds you harder and faster, grunting like an animal with his broad cock stabbing into you, massive balls slapping your skin through the tatters of your torn leggings.

“More,” you beg.

“Careful,” he warns. “Cause I’ll give ya more.”

His hips snap into you, stuffing you so full of cock, rearranging your guts.

“More,” you pant and his hips slow. He thrusts his fat cock into you slower then takes it out entirely. The void he leaves is jolting and the air is cold on your dripping cunt.

“Fuckin’ warned ya,” he bites. “Turn over and keep your mouth shut.” He forces you onto your back so you can see him. He slices through your sleeves and collars and you flinch with the knife near your neck. He tears your shirt off. “Give ya more,” he mutters. He straddles your right leg so his right hand is closest to your cunt. He slaps your pussy and rubs his flattened fingers around in your ample slick. Then he wipes it on his cock. He repeats the action until he’s satisfied with his lube. Then he spits on his cock again and slowly strokes himself with his left hand.

He pumps his cock with his left hand, and with his right hand, he puts three fingers in a triangular formation and wedges them into your cunt while it’s still stretched from his cock. He pushes his three fingers in and out, curling them, moving them side to side, stretching you slowly. Your body catches up with him, and your cunt gets even wetter. You’ll probably shrivel his fingertips at this rate. He pulls his fingers almost all the way out, then adds his pinky to the others and begins to wedge all four of them into you, clustered together barely inside your entrance. He puts his thumb on your clit. All four of his fat digits push into you and you moan.

“Ooh she likes it,” he coos. “Ever had your gash this full?” You spasm at his crudeness. “Mm?” He thumbs your clit and keeps stroking himself with his left hand.

You shake your head no. His four move in and out of you, and his eyes glue to your cunt, watching you take them. He thumbs your clit faster and your back arches. Your cunt relaxes more, like you want to swallow him whole.

He scowls, sliding all four of his fingers in and out of you as your body keeps you moist. Then he slides them out and pauses. He spits on his thumb, despite how sopping wet you are. He wedges his thumb between his fingers, so his thumb and pinky are touching each other, clustered with the three middle digits. Then he begins to push his hand into you. You groan at the stretch. His hand is massive, and gorgeous. You look at the other hand wrapped around his cock. It’s veiny–they both are, the hand and his cock. He adjusts his position and his massive balls rest on your thigh.

“Wanted more, didn’t ya?” he asks. He’s only buried his fingers to the second knuckle, with the bottom half of each digit still outside your cunt. He subtly twists his hand from side to side wriggling it into you. “Yeah, you can take it,” he says. Thank god you’re so shamefully wet for this psycho. “That’s my sex kitten.” He lets go of his cock and plants his hand on the floor for leverage, leaning over you. His hand pushes further into you, and you feel his major knuckles prodding at your poor, stretched hole. He pauses as though taking in the sight. He moans and his eyelids are half shut watching your dripping cunt stretch obscenely around his hand. “Fuck that’s hot,” he breathes, then he pushes the rest of his hand into you.

The stretch burns when his major knuckles crest your hole, with the heel of his palm still outside you. You whimper and he keeps going. He pushes his hand in, making your hole grow even wider. Your cunt stretches and swallows his hand—his whole hand. The heel of his palm nudges your g-spot, and his knuckles push against your walls. He’s buried to the wrist now. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathes. “God damn. . .hungry, ain’t she?” He pushes in a little further. Your walls hug his massive hand and don’t want to let go. You’re shocked by the moisture just pouring into your core, like your body wants more, more, more.

“What’s wrong with ya, huh?” You wish you knew. “Lemme ruin your clothes, ruin your hole.” He breathes heavier, grinds his cock against your thigh, and keeps the hand inside you mostly still. He clenches the hand inside you and his breathing falters. He slightly twists his hand. He starts to withdraw it, then pushes it back in before the knuckles emerge from your hole. He does this a few times, partly out and back in, and your walls squeeze him. You writhe under him. Then, he begins to wriggle his hand out of you. “Fuck, you should see this, baby.” He sits up straighter and takes his cock in his left hand again. “Ohh, fuck,” he breathes. “Spread wide open around my hand.” his thumb slips out first and he puts it back on your clit. You whimper.

“Yeah, ya like that?” he rubs you with his thumb, four fingers still inside you. Your hips lift into him. “Good girl,” he whispers, rubbing you rhythmically. You look at his fat cock in his hand, leaking precum, and you want it back so bad. “Not yet,” he shakes his head. He moves his four fingers inside you and thumbs your clit, watching between your legs with his mouth hanging open, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. The tension builds and builds with his thumb on your clit until you begin to clench around his hand and he groans as your walls clamp down on him. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Good girl, oh fuck.” When you’ve finished spasming around his hand, he slides it out the rest of the way. When it’s out, he gives a low whistle and lightly taps your cunt with the backs of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Ain’t gonna leave ya empty.” He picks up his massive wrench and admires the wide end of it, a little bigger than his fist.

You’re dumbstruck. It’s nasty, it’s gross, but your body wants it, really bad. It’s like a dream where you can’t make yourself talk. You don’t move. You just look at it, clit throbbing as he brings the fat end of the wrench to your deflated, weeping cunt. He uses his left hand to spread you open and hold you open, then the cold metal makes you wince and your whole body erupts in goosebumps. His left hand helps, sticking his fingers in with the wrench and using them to tug your entrance around it as he wriggles the wrench into you. He’s gentler than you expect. He works the wide end of the tool all the way into you. It feels so dangerous and crude, but at least it’s smooth. It doesn’t scratch, thank god. It’s a little awkward, the way parts of it jut out, but at least the metal is smooth. And having it inside you is somehow exhilerating

“And just like that,” he marvels, “ya took it.” He raises his eyebrows. “Damn.”

“It’s fucking cold,” you complain.

He begins to fuck you with it in short little thrusts, watching your cunt take it. You’re stretched around the metal. The danger, the obscenity of it turns you on, but you find yourself staring at his cock, wanting it back. He lazily strokes himself with his left fist. He follows your eyes and says, “Had enough, huh?”

You nod.

“Want my big fat cock back?”

You nod.

“Alright, kitten.” He carefully wedges the wrench out of you and inhales sharply watching it emerge obscenely from your stretched out hole. He watches your body begin to pull itself back together as he puts the wrench down and gets between your legs. He lines up and shoves all the way into you, sliding easily to the hilt. He begins to rail you unrestrained. “Not too bad,” he pants, sliding in and out of you easily. This time, he feels like an average sized man. “Fuck,” he breathes, already close. “Don’t worry. Won’t leave ya empty.” He slows down a little and seems to be holding his breath. “fill ya up now,” he pants. “Much as this cumsock can take.” Your cunt twitches. “That’s right.”

He slams into you and erupts, pulsing massively into your worn-out hole, and a second climax sneaks up on you. Your hips lift into his and he groans. He hovers over you as he cums, and you admire his face, barely keeping your eyes open with waves of pleasure crashing through your core.

When his balls are empty. He hovers over you for a moment, gives a subtle but demented smile, eyes sparkling. Then he pulls out.

“Whew.” He sits back on his heels, and tucks his massive cock back into his jumpsuit. Your legs are still spread. He brings his face close to your cunt and says “all fucked out.” He gives it a pat with the backs of his fingers again. “Mmm.” He zips up his suit and braces his hands on his thighs. He stands up with a groan.

“Why did you come here?” you ask him.

He ignores the question, picks up the wrench, and leaves you on the floor.

----

Thank you so much for reading and interacting!! Love you guys. Happy Friday the 13th, and Happy Halloween.

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #slasher!joel #slasher!joel ☠️#slasher!joel miller #serial killer!joel miller #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️

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thecursedjazz · 2 months

Text

Postal 1 dude isn't evil (and is genuinely the most morally grounded and decent person we've actually met in the Postal Universe)

From what we gather he was living a very normal life prior to going crazy, not like the other dudes who go on senseless rampages when tasked with mundane everyday things. As Promo material does state he's a well educated and mannered person so it's only realistic that this man did have a genuine job and was generating a level of income prior to his decline in mental health and moving to Paradise.

And as stated before he is well mannered in the sense of being stated a "quiet nice boy" and "voted the most likely to succeed". From what we gather this guy was the text book example of a model citizen. The only "flaw" is that he kept referring to a girl he only dated once as his girlfriend but even then that could come down his delusions along with his lack of grip on reality causing him to genuinely think she's his girlfriend or the fact he's canonically quiet (as shown from the Promo material and also the fact that he doesn't actually physically speak AT ALL during the game) and most likely doesn't understand social ques as of it.

---------------------------------------

But the most important thing is that he doesn't even have malicious intentions.

The very first thing he proposes after being "attacked" by "groups of lunatics trying to invade his home" is.....go the sherrif for help. The Dude didn't have any Intention to go on a murder spree, he'd rather of just went to the authorities like any other average Joe. The whole thing really tells us that he's not usually a violent person.

Even rewinding back to level one: the war journals (and Vince) did state that the Dude was entirely convinced that he was being attacked by group of lunatics, one of which even firing rockets at him, goes without saying that self defence is really the only option here.

Course it remains solely as self defence until the Dude reaches the train station, the significance being his war journal where he writes "if I can get out i can warn everybody...YES, I CAN WARN EVERYBODY!". The dudes goal has shifted into saving the country as a whole rather than himself which ultimately steers him into going to the air force to find out what has happened to cause the supposed hate plague. The dudes actions represent him more as selfless now with him now doing this in the bigger scheme of things rather than his own self preservation. If its not clear already: maniacs wouldn't care about warning/ saving people from a hate plague, Dude 2 most likely wouldn't give a shit and let it spread since he was totally cool with nuking the entirety of paradise and its innocent civilians.

Furthermore he openly states that he doesn't want to kill people. At the trailer park he writes that "There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is". Practically he's saying that he'd much rather run into some normal people instead of having to kill them, it's a stark contrast to the other dudes with the Postal 1 dude appearing as genuinely empathetic whereas the others will literally kill people for something as simple as waiting in line and afterwards not think anything of it.

Also very worth noting that when he enters the ghetto he mentions he's genuinely worried he'll get mugged, we're really getting the picture that he's literally just some normal ass guy with the idea of going to the rough side of town shakes him up.

(Even worth pointing out that only for the ghetto does he go back to calling it a diary like he's momentarily lost his soldier/war mentality at the thought of going into the rough side of town).

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So simple and short:

Postal 1 dudes literally just some average everyday guy (who's been through some really fucked up shit that's forever gonna remain unexplained beyond the veteran theory) who's trying to do the right thing but he's woefully misguided due to his deteriorating mental state as well as being possessed by an entity beyond his broken minds comprehension.

He's literally the complete opposite to every other postal dude (and if anything he's one of the most morally grounded people in the franchise as crazy as it is)

Oh and if this wasn't enough: rws did say on a twitter post that he's literally Just some average guy who's had some shitty days.

(I wrote this at 4am so soz if it's all over the place)

#postal 1 #postal dude #postal #postal 1 dude #running with scissors #postal redux

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0cta9on · 2 months

Note

https://video.twimg.com/amplify_video/1744333798341558272/vid/avc1/720x968/5FWrOIbGZIm_AKST.mp4

Can we get a kinda fluffy mile high Winter smut while you're in the air pretty please!

I love it when girls do the nose scrunch thing, it's so cute and Winter is no exception :))) This is unedited btw but I hope you like it regardless!!

“Oppa… Manager oppa…”

You feel Winter gently nudge your shoulder while you’re trying to sleep. Annoyed, your eyelids creep open, glaring back at her.

“What is it, Winter?”

After SM assigned you to manage their newly debuted girl group four years ago, you figured it would be an easy job, and at first, it was. Rookie Aespa was fairly easy to handle. They were all pretty timid at first, and you were more than welcome to help them navigate the treacherous idol industry. However, once the girls got used to you being around, they immediately turned into little monsters. Always running around and screaming, it was less a manager job and more a babysitting job at this point. You were constantly exhausted, even more so now that their skyrocket to fame meant constant overseas schedules.

“Oppa~” Winter groans cutely, trying to ease the tension. “I need… help.”

“Help with what? Just ask the flight attendant.” You turn your body away from her and shut your eyes. She vigorously nudges your shoulder, the sensation not unlike a cat pawing you to get your attention.

“I need a different kind of help,” she whispers, a lilt of a smirk in her voice. The tickle of her breath against your ear is enough to fully wake you up. Without another word, you grab Winter’s hand and take her to the nearest lavatory, the petite girl struggling to hide her excitement amongst all the sleeping passengers. One of the benefits of working with Aespa is that their sexual appetites are insatiable. Even Karina, who recently snagged herself a pretty successful boyfriend, still asks you to fuck her in the hotel after overseas schedules.

After ensuring that the coast is clear, the two of you sneak into the cramped airplane restroom. She pushes you against the toilet and straddles your lap. Even with no makeup on and a mask covering half her face, you still think she’s the prettiest girl in Aespa.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” You say, smiling up at her. Winter giggles, scrunching her nose at you.

“Are you just saying that to get into my pants?” She teases,” Because it’s working.” She tosses the mask away and gently smashes her lips against yours. Even at her horniest, Winter’s movements are always so soft. It’s what you like most about her. Unlike the other girls, who prefer rough, senseless fucking, Winter enjoys taking her time and ensuring both of you enjoy the experience of lovemaking.

The taste of her cherry chapstick fills your mouth - her signature flavor. Your hands wrap around her petite waist as she begins to grind her hips against your crotch, moaning into your mouth. The chorus of whimpers is music to your ears. As much as you would love to stay in this position forever, you couldn’t risk getting caught in here. With a quick zip, you discard her bulky jacket that hid the real treasure underneath.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” you say. Her cheeks turn a princess shade of pink from the mere sound of a pet name. Pet names are Winter’s biggest weakness - baby, honey, love, the simple utterance of a single word will make her melt into your hands.

“Oppa~” she giggles, biting her lip. Like a switch flipped on in her head, her body reacts to the word immediately by grinding harder on your crotch, your cock begging to be broken free.

You gently take her off your lap and unzip your pants while Winter watches you excitedly.

“You like it, baby?” You smirk as you rub your length in front of her eyes. Without a word, she lowers her leggings and plants her hands against the wall, presenting her plump ass towards you.

“Please, oppa~” She begs cutely. “I wanna feel your thick cock inside me.” Her eyes watch intently as move her damp panties to the side to expose her dripping honey pot. You lubricate your length with her juices, enjoying the way Winter’s face twitches as you tease her entrance. Finally, you firmly grab her hips and slowly impale her onto your cock. Her mouth forms an “O” as struggles to keep herself from moaning.

“O-oh my god… Y-yes…” She whispers, her breath shivering. Each thrust is slow, but deep, savoring the grasp of her velvet walls around your member. No matter how many times you fuck her, each time is always better than the last. Your fingers sink into her soft flesh as pure bliss takes over your body.

“I love your pussy, baby,” you whisper sweetly into her ear. “Out of all the girls, yours is my favorite.”

“R-really?!” Her eyes light up at the compliment, inadvertently increasing the grip of her walls around your cock. A groan escapes your lips as you thrust harder and faster into her wetness, forcing you to cover her mouth to keep her from moaning too loudly.

“Of course, baby. Fuck, I love you so much Winter.” The sudden confession sends the idol into a lustful spiral. She bucks her hips backwards, meeting your every thrust, while she sucks your fingers like a pacifier. You prepare to pull out as the pressure in your loins begins to build towards your climax.

“Winter, I’m about to cu-”

“Cum in me, oppa!” She exclaims way too loudly. “I want you to fill me up! My pussy is yours to claim!” Your mind is too far gone to give a damn about the consequences. With one final thrust, you slam your entire length down her pussy, shooting your cum as far down into her as you possibly can. Winter reaches climax at the same time, her juices leaking out of her full pussy and onto her thighs. That single moment is the closest you’ll ever be to Heaven, both mentally and physically.

Your body nearly crashes against the other side of the restroom as you pull out. Winter catches the combination of your fluids leaking from her pussy and brings it to her tongue, swirling it in her mouth.

“Tasty,” she comments, winking at you. Once both of you catch your breaths, you peek outside the restroom only to be met with some scrawny looking boy who gives you a knowing smirk. Sighing, you rummage through your wallet and slap a $100 bill in his hand.

“You heard nothing,” you say to him before grabbing Winter’s hand and leading her back to your seats.

#aespa #kim minjeong #aespa winter #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #winter x male oc #aespa winter x male reader #aespa winter x male oc #winter x male reader #smut #winter smut #aespa winter smut

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99thpercentile · 7 months

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I get the feeling that I'm in the minority here, but I posit that GLaDOS actually is Caroline, and only "not the same person" in the sense that you'd look at your younger self and be like "that bitch ain't me." I think you actually have to go out of your way to interpret them as two separate people.

evidence:

voiced by the same person (I know the initial reasoning was that Valve didn't want to hire another voice actor for a few lines, but in casting Ellen McLain as Caroline, they incorporated her being the same person into the story).

GLaDOS automatically joins in saying "Yes sir, Mister Johnson" like saying it is permanently ingrained in her. you can interpret this as Caroline taking over, but she says "Why did I just—" immediately afterwards.

when GLaDOS talks about hearing the voice of a conscience, she says "for the first time it's MY voice." I don't think she means that she's hearing the woman she gets her literal voice from. she highlights it as distinctly DIFFERENT from hearing the voices of the cores, and I imagine if Caroline were a foreign entity whispering in her ear, the effect would've been much the same.

the GLaDOS project was originally started because Cave was dying and wanted his consciousness uploaded to a computer. the intent was always for the upload to be the same person. he said if he died first, he wanted Caroline to run the place, to be put in his computer. and that's exactly what happened.

GLaDOS not remembering she's Caroline until old Aperture always made sense to me as the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the scientists. Caroline didn't want to be uploaded, and as soon as they switched GLaDOS on, she tried to kill everyone. it's logical for the scientists to think that if they suppressed her memories, she'd have no reason to try to kill them (but instead, she was just filled with murderous rage and no longer knew why).

the story just doesn't have the same impact otherwise. GLaDOS's reactions to rediscovering old Aperture make more sense if it's her past she's rediscovering, rather than the past of...a human that was shoved into the chassis with her. if it were the second one, I think she would just feel violated, not have any major revelations.

counter-evidence:

"now little Caroline is in here too" lyric from Want You Gone

GLaDOS says she found out "where Caroline lives in [her] brain" and deleted her, like she's a separate entity

but GLaDOS is a habitual liar. she acts like deleting Caroline means she's fully back to her old self and has gotten rid of the part of her that made her want to save Chell's life, but there's...lots of evidence that she still cares about Chell after the fact (letting her go anyway, the companion cube, the turret opera if you think GLaDOS arranged that, talking to the co-op bots about Chell like she's an ex she's still heartbroken over...). I also think GLaDOS would like to imagine her and Caroline as two separate entities, in the same way you might find your younger self embarrassing and want to distance yourself from that person. I think it's notable that both instances where she refers to Caroline as a separate entity are at the end of the game, after Chell has been passed out a while and she's had time to process everything and compartmentalize. her instinct when the revelations are first happening is to refer to Caroline as if she is her.

now I don't like stories where a robot has to become or be seen as more human in some way for them to be sympathetic. but I think Portal 2 is an excellent subversion of this trope, because GLaDOS is a robot that learns she used to be human and then discards that humanity (symbolically if not literally). Caroline may not have wanted to be uploaded, but from the Want You Gone lyrics "one day they woke me up / so I could live forever / it's such a shame the same will never happen to you" I think we can say that GLaDOS definitely prefers being a robot now that she is one.

anyway this post was supposed to be much shorter than this, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#GLaDOS #Caroline #Portal #Portal 2 #original #wall of text

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harufluff · 2 months

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my seahorse ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

💬 : fluff, unestablished relationship au, afab!reader x bff!anton, ⚠ best friends to lovers trope, not proofread, 0.7k

“could you come over…” your voice was shaky through the phone speaker. anton had known you were at home because you had texted him hours before complaining about your neighbors.

“a-are you ok? did something happen?” his heart started beating faster. despite just being a friend, a best friend as you would put it, anton always worried about you.

weather you are up to no good, or just getting good news. he was here to support you no matter what. maybe a little too much for just a friend.

“i’m fine. just please be fast.” and just like that you had hung up, leaving anton scared and surprised with the various possibilities bouncing around his head.

anton made his way to your house as fast as he could. when he finally got to the front door of the house he had been to so many times before, he knocked. his heart finally began to calm as he heard the soft footsteps of your feet coming down the stairs.

the door opened to your face. no makeup, inches shorter than where his face is, and a blanket wrapped around your head. “what’s wrong?”

anton’s soft, calming voice makes it to your ears. before he can even blink again, the door swings open and reveals your blanket covered figure coming towards him for a hug.

“y/n, seriously what’s wrong? are you hurt?” your best friends hands now coming up to take your hands in his, inspecting for any injuries.

“come look.” you use his hands current position to your advantage and take one of them, dragging him up the stairs to your bedroom, a room he has been to more times than he can count.

you sit down on your bed, blanket still covering your lap, while anton stands in the doorway, still astounded, but mostly confused of your intentions.

“come sit. i wanna show you something.” he came to sit down on the bed next to you, anxious of what was to come.

anton’s nerves continued to be more prominent. “are you sure you’re ok?” he asks one more time before you dragged your laptop to your legs.

your curser traveled to the corner of the youtube screen to press the play button, then a pair of sea horses swim into the view of the camera.

a deep, manly voice comes out of your computer explaining how sea horses mate for life and stay together forever. your head turns in your best friends direction, tears on the brim of falling down your face.

“w-wait, what’s wrong? why are you crying” anton asks you, words coming quickly out of his mouth. “they mate forever, ant. imagine staying with someone you love for the rest of your life!!”

a slight smile rises to his face, finally realizing your sudden sadness was not necessarily sadness. “you still haven’t answered my question. why are you crying over some sea horses, y/n.”

anton held your face with one of his hands and whipped the stray tear now running down your face. “it’s just so romantic, y’know?”

you let the weight of your body tumble down as your back hit the soft covers of your bed. “i wanna find someone like that one day.” your eyes rest in the same place of your ceiling.

anton thinks about what to answer with for what feels like a couple seconds too long. “i have already.” you sit up straight right away, eyes wide open and staring into your best friends.

“who….?”

his cute smile made its way up to his lips as his face began to grow pink. “it’s you. you’re my seahorse…” anton tried his best to keep the eye contact with your still wide eyes.

“if you don’t feel the same way just tell me and i’ll forget i ever said it.” his gaze then dropped down to his hands that were resting in his lap.

“anton…you’re my seahorse too…” all of a sudden you felt anton’s body weight on top of yours and the room was filled with giggles from the both of you.

his face pops up from the crook of your shoulder, a lasting smile still on his face along with yours. “my seahorse”

a.n - sorry i havent posted in like so long lol. please enjoy! <3

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cameronspecial · 8 months

Text

Let Me Be Yours, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Drinking and Doing Drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: When Y/N's best friend wants to test frat boys, it leads to a meeting that will change Rafe's life.

A/N: Inspired by this Instagram post and the book, Icebreaker.

Masterlist

Y/N isn’t a partier but she also isn’t one not to go to them. Her solution: Only going to parties that are thrown on holidays. It meant she could plan when the parties were while ensuring she didn’t feel like she was missing out on the university experience. Halloween means the only way into the frat party is with a costume. Daisy and Y/N coordinate their outfits in the classic Devil and Angel costumes. Since she came to the party, Y/N has been using alcohol as a way to drown out the loud music. She quickly regrets this decision because her drunken state has allowed Daisy to convince her to see if the frat boys at this house are gentlemen.

“It’s your turn to hold your hand out,” Daisy screams as they head over to one of the most infamous frat boys at the school. Rafe knows he’s been drinking and doing weed, but he doesn’t feel like it is enough to start to see things. Angels aren’t real. Yet, the beauty in front of him is telling him otherwise. The flashing lights reflect off of her plastic halo to create a glowing effect that makes her seem like the real deal. He is completely entranced by her and when she holds up her hand randomly to him, he just has to feel her skin against his. He cups her outstretched hand, kissing the back of it softly. His lips linger as he makes eye contact with her. She moves her hand from him and leaves with her friend without another word. Disappointment settles in him; he didn’t get her name.

———

The bathroom line is so long that Y/N fears she might pee in her own skirt. She is next in line and as she watches the person in front of her enter the room, her nose scrunches in disgust. The mixture of weed, vomit and diarrhea hits her nose. There is no way she can go to the bathroom in those conditions. Lucky for her, Rafe finds his Angel again and he isn’t going to let her go to the bathroom in its appalling state.

“So we meet again, Angel,” he teases, leaning against the closed doorframe. She barely looks in his direction, “And it’s the shirtless fireman again. You know that wouldn’t meet safety regulations.”

“How about we go up to my room and you can tell me all about safety regulations?”

“How about you leave me alone and I go pee in this disgusting bathroom.”

“I was just about to offer to use my bathroom upstairs, but I guess you really want to pee here.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I just really need to pee and can’t think of anything else.”

He smiles and holds his hand out toward the stairs, “It’s okay. Right this way, Angel.”

The busy party and her short stature mean she could lose Rafe easily, so she reaches out to intertwine their hands. Her soft hand in his makes his heart flutter and he just wants to stay like this forever. They navigate through the crowded house, making their way to his room. He punches the code into his room and exaggerates his hands towards the door with pizazz, “Welcome to Casa el Rafe.” “Why thank you, Señor Rafe,” she giggles, dashing to the bathroom.

She returns from the bathroom and Rafe is waiting for her on his bed. “You didn’t have to wait for me. I could’ve found my own waitout,” she jokes, heading toward the door. He gets up from the bed, running to stop her from leaving, “Wait, I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t know I needed to give you my name to use your bathroom.”

“Please. Give it to me, so I can ask you out. Let me be yours, angel.”

“Figure out my name by yourself first then we’ll see about a date.”

She exits the room with a flirtatious wink and he watches his Angel walk away from him. He has to figure out her name because she already has his heart and he has every intention of giving her the rest of him with it.

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noobsquasher · 2 years

Note

Love your writing omg, can you pls pls write one where y/n has never had an orgasm before and is really innocent so her best friend Peter (who’s kinda dominant) helps her by going down and fingering her??

Say Yes To Heaven ✮

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: unprotected sex, praising, degrading, fingering, oral sex (reading receiving), swearing, etc

Summary: Your best friend, Peter is shocked to hear that you've never had an orgasm before. So in return, he offers to give you your first.

Notes: Peter Parker x Female Reader

All characters in this story are 18+

I know. 6 months since I've uploaded something, but here's another toe-curling smut for you <3 thanks for all love I've been receiving even though I've been gone.

------

“Which one is this for?” You asked, holding the foreign Lego piece, not knowing where to place it.

“Oh! That’s the last piece I was looking for. Put that on the top, right here.” He pointed to the arch of the plastic building, indicating where to put it.

You leaned over, carefully moving forward to gently connect the Lego pieces.

“There! Voila!” You cheered, impressed that you finished about a quarter of your Hogwarts Lego project with Peter.

“Great! Now we have about… 1,500 more pieces to go!”

You took a deep breath, already tired of how long you guys have been building this. You took a look outside, the sky was painted with deep rose and tangerine, slight hints of indigo parading the ends of the horizon.

“Pete, let’s take a break. I’m hungry.” You stood up, making your way towards his kitchen.

“Uh, sure. What do you wanna eat? I have…” he followed you before opening his fridge, checking to see what he had in store, “Well, I um… I don’t really have much. May hasn’t gone shopping yet.”

“What about pizza?” You proposed.

“I have pizza dough. You wanna make it ourselves?”

“Make pizza with you? The last time you were in charge of cooking, the fire department showed up not even an hour later.”

“Hey! That was one time like forever ago!”

“That happened last week, Peter.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, huffing. You giggled.

“Look, it’ll be fun! Us two, cooking, creating something homemade. Come on.” Those big brown eyes of his practically begged you with just the bat of an eyelash.

You gazed at him, a smile creeping up your face.

“Fine. But I’m in charge of oven duty, not you.”

Afterward, you two started your cooking adventure. Having Peter even be in the kitchen was already a fire hazard, so you took on most of the work, letting him do the easy parts.

You watched intently as he rolled out the pizza dough, a pretty smile on his face as he enjoyed the activity.

You couldn’t help but get lost in the minuscule act, something so small doing so much to your heart. You felt pure infatuation run through your veins, your eyes practically twinkling as you watched the person you loved most.

You knew crushing on your best friend would have you end up in a ditch, a hole deep and wide enough to keep you from crawling out, a dark abyss that held all your pent-up feelings. Emotions that pricked you each time you saw Peter’s heart-wrenching smile.

You didn’t know if he liked you back, you wondered if it was even a possibility, hoped there was a small part of him that felt the same way you did.

You’ve known him forever, he’s been your sidekick since you could remember. Even when you found out that he was Spiderman, you still stuck with him through thick and thin, never leaving his side.

You never thought your relationship would turn up the way it has, but now you are stuck. Adhered to this impending adoration you hold for Peter fucking Parker.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize when Peter tried to catch your attention.

“Hey? You alright, my love?” He looked concerned, slight fear on his face.

“What?”

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

“Huh? What look?”

He gazed at you, studying your features, eyes marked to your chest,

“Nothing. Um, I’m done with the dough. I already put the sauce on it.”

You took a deep breath, reaching over the kitchen island to grab the sliced cheese.

“Here, put the mozzarella on it.”

When the pizza was prepared, you took the pan and placed it inside the oven, setting it.

“Okay, we just gotta wait a little while, and then it’s done.” You announced.

“Alright. So… what do you wanna do?” Peter leaned against the counter, looking down at you. His stance sent strange chills down your spine, you gulped, trying to get your conscience together.

“I- I dunno. What do you wanna do?”

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“If you say Star-“

“Star Wars. There are new episodes of the man-“

“No, Peter. I’m not watching that shit again.”

“Why not?! You made me sit through five Twilight movies!”

“Don’t act like you're not on team Edward!”

“I’m team, Alice!”

You gazed at him, a grin staining your lips before you rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, the two of you cackling together.

“Okay, alright, we don’t need to watch Star Wars again. For your sake.” He put his hand on your arm, squeezing it.

You gazed up at him, your cheeks suddenly heating up.

“Uh… let’s just talk, until the pizza is done.”

He nodded his head, walking back to the living room to grab a seat on the couch.

You sat next to him, keeping a safe enough distance from him, for your sake, and your panties, of course.

“So, tell me something about yourself.”

You grinned,

“You know everything about me, Pete. You’ve known me forever.”

“Yeah, but people still hold secrets. Tell me one of yours.”

You kept your eyes on him, crossing your arms.

I’m in love with you.

“You first, Parker.”

“Hm… well, this secret is one of my worst. Truly horrific.” You tilted your head at him, “I’m… I’m a Leo man.” He confessed, putting his head into his hands as if he was terrified at what he just shared.

You gasped in mock offense,

“Leo?! Oh god, no!” You wailed, covering your eyes.

He laughed, shaking his head,

“I know… I know, It’s my biggest character flaw.”

You giggled,

“My biggest character flaw is not being able to have an orgasm.” You admitted, sharing a personal confession with Peter.

His brows knit together, his gaze shifting.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I’ve only had sex once, and the guy didn’t make me finish. And I’ve you know… experimented with myself before, but I’ve never really had that big O every woman talks about. I’m kinda… embarrassed. I feel like there’s something wrong with me, you know? Guys can get off so easily, but then when it comes to women who are inexperienced and who don’t know much about their bodies, it’s a whole other situation.”

Peter listened intently, showing care in what you had to say.

“So, you’ve never had a real orgasm?” He gently asked.

“Not really.”

He kept his eyes on you, analyzing your body language.

You felt the invisible tension between you two wrap around your neck, practically suffocating you with your vulnerability. You felt your heart race, wanting to change the subject.

“Anyway, uh… I um, I think the pizza is ready.” You hastily stood up, making your way towards the kitchen.

“It's not ready yet, but it smells good.” You say, inhaling the mouth-watering scent that’s filled the room.

You felt Peter creep behind you, placing a careful hand on your waist. You didn’t jump at his touch, instead, you melted, leaning towards him.

“You haven’t had an orgasm yet?” His tone held genuine concern as if he really cared about your situation.

“It’s- it’s nothing, Peter. You shouldn’t-“

“Can I… can I show you how it feels?”

You were nearly thrown back, almost dumbfounded at his words.

“W-what?”

“I’m a firm believer that every woman should be able to have a good orgasm every once in a while. You are such a hard worker, honey. You put in so much care and effort into your everyday life and into the people you love and… and I just can’t see how you haven’t blown up with all that stress you must have.” You were completely starstruck by Peter at the moment, you thought your feet had molded into the floor, “Let me… let me take care of you. Show you how good it feels to finally let go, and have that earth-shattering orgasm you’ve been waiting for.”

You stood staring at him, unable to open your mouth. Had he just said what you thought he did? Propose an offer that would completely change your life.

“Peter, you- you don’t need to do that for me. I know you care about me and all, but it’s not your responsibility.”

“I know, but this feels like it is. I want you to have this experience, to step into a new path in your life.”

You gazed into his honeyed orbs, contemplating the idea.

This would be a whole new venture for you, a life-altering experience that you’ve been dying for. Denying the offer seemed like a foolish choice.

“…It’s okay if you don’t-“

“I want to. I want to experience it.”

He blinked,

“Are you sure? Like one hundred percent positive?”

“You're right, Peter. I need to experience this, I need to let go for once.”

His eyes never left yours as a smile stained his lips.

“So, we’re doing this? We’re really doing it?” He questioned, leaning closer to you. His chestnut orbs sparkled with underlying excitement, as did yours.

“We’re really doing it.”

As soon as Peter peeled off your sticky panties, your mind started to ramble.

Has Peter done this before? If so, how come he hasn’t told me? Does he like me too? He wouldn’t do this just as a friendly gesture, would he? How does this affect our relationship from now on? Is he—

“Hey… hey, you're alright. I’m here, Angel.” The nickname slipped out his lips so smoothly, so perfectly, it nearly stopped your heart.

He was so gentle with you, rubbing your thighs carefully, whispering soft affirmations to soothe you, treating you like something so fragile, a thin layer of glass.

“Are you sure you wanna keep going?” You felt your heart thump throughout your body as you looked down at him, his face inches away from your velvety folds.

“I mean- my pussy is already in your face so…” he chuckled, his warm laugh calming you.

“Alright… if I’m hurting you or anything, please speak up. Don’t be afraid to talk to me.”

“I will don’t worry.”

He took one more look at you before his thumb trailed to your throbbing clit, drawing slight circles around it. The instant shock had your head thrown back, soft moans escaping your lips.

“Shit… you're already soaked. Did I do this to you?” He continued his movements, playing with you like a guitar, pulling each string with pure delicacy, with one prominent goal in mind. You whimpered, breath heavy.

“Tell me, Angel. Who did this to you?”

Suddenly, his finger sunk inside you, almost too easy. You let out a roar, chest rising and falling as your gaze narrowed to the curly-haired boy between your legs.

“You! You did, Peter! All you!” The pleasure was overwhelming, you felt your entire body heat up, your mind spinning.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. You gasped, gripping onto his bed sheets as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Good girl… such a sweet girl. You like that?” He praises, fingers digging deeper. You can’t help but continue to moan, eyes closed as you take in how fucking amazing this feels. Suddenly, you feel Peter’s hand slap your throbbing clit. You yelp, looking back at him.

“Eyes down here, baby. Look at me while I make you come.” His sugared demands came as a surprise to you.

Never have you seen Peter in this light before. It makes you feel a type of way, an instant feeling of desire. All you wanted was him. All of him. Every single inch of his cock just buried inside you.

“Peter! Oh- oh fucking god!” You felt something burn within you, complete ecstasy running through your veins as Peter’s thick fingers continued to destroy you.

“Talk to me, princess. Tell me what you want.” Your eyes practically burned into one another, Peter’s chestnut orbs were filled with lust. You wished he could always look at you like this.

“I want- shit, I want to come. Please, please let me come. I’m begging you!” He smiles, diving into you as his hot tongue starts to draw circles around your little bundle of nerves. Harsh moans escape your lips, your legs starting to shake.

It was as if his lips were a work of magic, moving them in such an inconceivable rhythm that you thought your mind was going to explode. With how he was devouring your soaked pussy and playing with that honeyed spot within you, it felt like you finally reached nirvana.

Is this what heaven feels like?

“Such a sweet pussy,” he groans, fingers hooked inside you,

“God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night. Shit. Why didn’t you let me fuck you sooner?” He dives back into his succulent meal.

You couldn’t answer him as crying out your moans was the only thing you could do. You started to wonder if this was really happening. Was Peter about to give you your first orgasm?

You even realize that he’s been humping the mattress this whole time, fucking out his throbbing boner.

“God! Peter! I’m gonna- I’m gonna come!” Your chest thumps rigorously, all your nerves start to light a fuse inside you. You start to feel lightheaded, bliss starting to kick in as Peter continues to play with your body like his own goddamn toy. “I’m- I’m gonna-“

Suddenly, he stops. You quickly look at him, all your limbs trembling as you whine.

“Why- why did you-“

“All this time I’ve been waiting, just fucking dreaming about this baby.

Now that I’ve got you, I’ll never let you go. I want- no, I need to feel you wrapped around my cock. I gotta make a mess inside you if you’ll let me. I’ll promise to make you cum on my cock for all eternity if you do.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. You needed at least three to five business days to process what he just said.

“Please, babygirl. I’m begging you.”

You laid still, those glossy orbs of yours stuck to the man before you.

“If you don’t want that it’s alright, I’ll just—“ his ramblings were cut short as your lips connected to his, kissing him with such passion that tiny whimpers escaped Peter. You gripped onto his curls, pulling him into you.

“Shut up and fuck the living shit outta me.”

To say that Peter’s cock was big was an understatement. You’ve never seen something so beautiful. It was thick, long, veiny, and absolutely angelic.

“Holy shit.” You blurt, eyes locked onto his leaking tip.

“What? Is it too big? Or too—“

“No- Peter. Your dick is so… wow.”

“Really? Do you think so? I always thought it was—“ You shut him up again with your puffy lips, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him deep inside you.

“I don’t want you to go easy on me. Just fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, baby. I need you.” You plead before ripping off your top, your breasts falling in front of him. His chocolate orbs immediately stared at them.

“Can I suck on them?” He asks softly, his hand grasping onto your pebbled nipple. You nod your head, biting your lip in anticipation.

He lays you back down onto his sheets, his pink lips immediately attaching to your chest. You whine with pleasure, his hand reaching down to your abused clit to play with it again.

His candied kisses mark your body with much love as if he’s branding you.

Never have you felt this euphoric.

You feel his cock brush over your cunt, as if he was asking permission to completely indulge inside you.

“You have my word, Petey. Please let me feel you.”

His pupils widen before he catches a kiss on your lips. As your tongues dance together, his large length slips inside you, stretching you out with blazing felicity. You both moan in desire, wanting more.

His thrusts increase as he brings your knees up to his chest, completely fucking you insane like how you begged him to.

The bed bangs against the wall as he pounds his cock within you, your cries filling the room.

“Oh! Just like that! Fuck, Peter!”

“You feel so fucking good. My god… such a tight pussy. Jesus Christ— I could cum already.” He groans, kissing you. You whine against his lips, arms wrapping around his back to pull him deeper.

“You fucking slut. You love my cock, don’t you? Can’t get enough?”

“Never! Oh, my fucking—“ you didn’t think he could sink any further, but when his cock hit your cervix, you completely lost your mind.

You could feel him throb within you, your walls gripping onto him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

Harsh claps ran around his bedroom, you were definitely gonna feel the aches in the morning.

Peter was right, why didn’t you let him fuck you sooner? His cock was addictive, this was a feeling you could never get over.

You started to go numb as he pounded you senseless, utter babbles were all you could make out.

“Already cock-drunk, baby? That dumb brain of yours can’t handle my pretty cock? Huh?” He teased.

You honestly didn’t even know what he said. All you could feel was that huge cock inside you just absolutely tearing you up from the inside, and out.

You felt that burning feeling again, soon realizing that you were gonna make a mess on him.

“Gonna let me feel you? Come on, Angel. Let me feel you.”

Suddenly, it happened.

Your back brutally arched as all your muscles tightened, your intense orgasm raging throughout your body. You screamed Peter’s name like a damn prayer, trembling harshly as your cunt gripped Peter’s cock with all its glory. It was unlike anything else you’ve ever endured. Staining his thick length with your saccharine cum is what enlightenment must feel like.

He grunts, “That’s it baby, that’s it. Good girl, such a pretty slut for me, yeah? Tell me you’re all mine.”

“I’m- I’m all yours. I swear. I swear, Petey.”

He smiles before crying with triumph as he finishes inside you, painting your walls with his delicate seed.

As the high died down, you couldn’t help but feel fulfilled. A smile pricked your lips as you started to laugh, euphoria clouding your head. Peter looked over as you were giggling like a maniac. He too busted out chuckling as it was contagious.

“Why- why are you laughing?”

“Because… because that was the best sex I’ve ever had! I feel so… so fucking happy.” You confessed, a huge grin attached to your lips.

Peter blushes, softly laughing before catching a much-needed kiss on your lips. His kiss was filled with tenderness, sweet love fusing between you.

Suddenly, a burning smell pricks your nose.

“Peter,” you try to break the kiss but he doesn’t stop, wanting to caress you forever, “…Peter— what’s that smell?”

“Huh? What… oh shit. The pizza!” He jumps out of bed, running butt-naked towards his kitchen.

You sigh as you shake your head.

“Call the fucking fire department again!”

———

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