#also I know him showing his shoulders is ‘weird’ or smthn but I just wanted to show the chest marking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

3K notes · View notes

jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

hollowsart · 3 years ago

Note

Kisses are very cool but I do that head bump thing like a cat (usually to the back should or the top of the shoulder) n then just lay there on their shoulder. Though man's so short I could probably just bump his head then rest on it. I wanna head bump him on the chest then lay down on him. I am a cat and a nuisance

Past this Spamton with a cat??? Spamton with a cat. Or you could plug in Tasques here but he's probably seen strays around. Sorry I now have the picture of our beloved trash man sleeping in the trash with a stray tasque in his lap.

Also hands! Playing with peoples hands. Idk I'm weird. Hand comparisons, rubbing my fingers between each finger, sometimes clasping the others hand with both of mine because my brain can't just settle for hand-holding. I also like bending other ppl's fingers and this man has joints so my brain is having a field day with that

Running hands through someones hair. A bit scared to do that do him tho idk wtf kinda chemicals he puts into it but like if I know he's clean its free real estate. Also kisses to the head that he feels through his hair

Writing little notes that have no purpose than to say love you with like a smiley face and hearts. It's not like you left or anything he just came back from the kitchen or smthn and like there's just a lil note. There are a bunch more. He probably keeps them all.

Also blanket sharing? Just like sitting on the couch together with one blanket making sure both of you are covered comfortably close together.

Ice cream! Putting a couple scoops in a bowl and putting in 2 spoons. There are usually two different flavors because you each pick out what you want but you definitely steal a bite or two or more of the others stuff. Or like buying a banana split and sharing it with him. Or a milkshake with 2 straws.

Hot chocolate and you put whipped cream on it and it keeps getting on his nose so you ask if a straw would be better. (maybehelicksitoffwithhistongue)

The weird affection there is with buying something somebody needs before they ask. Like u live together and whatever beauty products or foods he likes are either restocked before or right after they run out. He doesn't need to ask because you know what he wants and you pay attention to when he is in low stock

Just different ways of affection. Kissing is cool but if I bump you with my forehead that's like my utmost trust. Also wow this was not supposed to be so long.

oh there are many MANY different ways of showing affection.

mouth to mouth ain't my idea of kissing... neckkissessoundsonicetho--

hand holding and hugging tho.....

I TOO NUZZLE LIKE A CAT. I like to press my face against my dog's little head and like.. match up the bridges of our noses together ;v; she is very small so our nose bridges fit well together lol but I do that as an extra way to show affection to her!! she doesn't mind it

me picturing Spamton with a Tasque is just this mental image again:

but I like all of this, this is all so cute!!

#//long post #spamton #....I too would play with fingers if I had someone's hand to hold. just fidgeting with all those funky knuckles....#He probably needs a good bath and shower. but I think the only real things he would put in his hair is spray/gel and shampoo/conditioner??#...so i mean... after he cleans himself it would probably be safe LOL #I would very much love to get ice cream with this little man too.

29 notes · View notes

reversecreek · 4 years ago

Text

ziggy strutting up to me like this gif as i hold up a crucifix n say begone begone vile beast BEGONE from my vicinity i will NOT buy u a happy meal wretched little boy...... some live action rp to start this off..... and SCENE. takes my bow. his pinterest is here n his playlist is here.

* dylan minnette, cis male + he/him | you know ziggy benson, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of his life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to hand crushed by a mallet by 100 gecs like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole glitching televisions impaled by remotes, nonchalantly texting the babes as a stove fire ravages your kitchen & cartoons turned up so loud it fries your eardrums thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 24th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her )

HISTORY;

from the second ziggy ws born he didnt stop screaming. within the first hours of his life he gave his father an ear splitting headache tht prompted him to say “that uncooked chicken’s fucking demonic” n joke abt popping “it” in the oven to roast. when this understandably received disgusted glances frm the nursing staff he ws all like “jeez alright alright i’m kiddin i’m kiddin can’t a guy have a joke around here?” n i feel like that sets up their dynamic so nice n sweetly <3 (sarcasm) (lips pursed)

frm day one he ws just honestly a rly hyperactive child. when he laughed he’d shriek it out at the absolute top of his lungs bc he’d just get this huge giddy surge of energy all the way to the very tips of his toes n it’d hit him like a shock from a fork in a plug socket. their parenting style ws rly just lazy tbh.... they didn’t have much time for disciplining him. ziggy’s mum wld halfheartedly be like “ziggy quiet now....” n then go bk to nuking whatever vegetables she’d defrosted until they tasted like dinosaur bones..... this wld not make any difference in ziggy’s behaviour

his father rly just took the stance that it ws ziggy’s mum’s job to discipline him or raise him in general which is. 🔪 please enter the 20th century sir.... get ur noggin sorted..... needless to say he wsn’t much involved in ziggy’s life n honestly generally jst didn’t like him. ziggy was a responsibility he didn’t want (accidental prregnancy) n in his literal words once said (blatantly while ziggy ws watching cartoons on the sofa) tht ziggy just “harshes my fucking vibe a lil bit”.

he wound up leaving when ziggy was six ish.... ziggy watched thru a crack in the blinds as his mum tried to grab at his jacket to make him stay as he lugged out his suitcase..... she even tried to physically cling onto him so he cldn’t get in his ride bt the door wound up slamming n she sat on her knees watching the lights pull out the drive n even long after they were gone. ziggy didn’t rly kno what to do abt this (emotions hd never been smthn he particularly understood, his own or how to handle other people’s) so after watching her fr 5 minutes he went out n gently shook her shoulder n was like. mom come inside u look weird out here. FKGHSFHGSFHKGFHKSGSFGHK. this was him trying to show love <3

ziggy’s mum is like.... rly relationship dependent. she gets all her self worth n validation frm whtever man she’s dating.... so she went on this like.... wild rampage of jst. dating a very large string of men. they ranged frm dreadfully boring to downright awful n were always below her standards. ziggy quite literally hated. all of them. every last one. even one that tried to b nice to him by offering to help him do his math homework when he ws 13 (bc ziggy was struggling a lot w this) n in response ziggy loudly barked until the man gt scared n stumbled backwards into a dining chair on his way out of the room. KGHFHKSJHFJGSHKFG

while him n his mum hv a kind of strained situation (there’s a great deal of resentment from her end n kind of. blaming him fr “driving his father away” n it’s never spoken abt bt it’s very much Present in their relationship n honestly ziggy kind of resents her too fr bringing some of the men into their lives tht she did) there is. love there...... sometimes she’ll like. reach out to cup the back of his head n he’ll duck his head away n be like wtf are u doing checking me for lice? n she’ll jst smile like :)...... knowing that’s how he loves. KHSFGKJGHKSFGFHKGSHF. ugh we love men who know how to process their emotions yesssss king give us nothing <3

(abuse n violence tw) idk i won’t go into it too much bt even tho ziggy’s constantly like 🙄 when his mum shows him affection he wld quite literally. kill fr her n almost did one time.......... narrowly avoided getting charged w assault when one of her bfs was drunk n evil n he went into protective mode.... idk he. has gone thru a lot n seen a lot n so has his mum. they look after each other the best they kno how despite the negatives in their relationship.... it’s complex <3

literally got in trouble so. often. at school. he ws always hyperactive (undiagnosed adhd n also probably not helped by the fact he ws jst allowed to eat sm junk food w 459729457952 sugar percentage all hours of the day) bt when his dad left n like. dealing w acting out so severely at home where his mum’s bfs were concerned it rly escalated..... i jst think he ws like. literally a terror. probably got suspended so many times. maybe even was permanently expelled before he cld get his diploma honestly. set off a firework in school hallway. smthn absolutely reckless n stupid.

hs hd a bunch of jobs mostly in the service industry...... usually ends up getting fired.... worked at mcdonald’s fr a while n then one day he went in rly high n ate three cheeseburgers in front of a weeping child who hd ordered one.... promptly gt fired bt he ws like yo fuck this place i’m quitting n threw off his apron n was like who’s with me??? who’s joining the union??????? to the rest of the staff n they were all mostly like >_> <_< before security approached to forcibly remove him n he grabbed a cookie n crammed it into his mouth in rebellion mid frantic n frankly possessed escape.....

in terms of wht’s going on to this day w his living situation i honestly think he still lives w his mum. i can just see this. KHGFSKGHSFGKSFGH. in like. a ramshackle bungalow in delphinus heights.... having said tht she probably isn’t. there tht often nw she’s dating her latest man (jonas, somehow always sweaty no matter the weather, wears too many gold rings n smells like shoe cleaner) who owns a car dealership n thinks he’s a kingpin for it. still home sometimes tho.

PERSONALITY:

ziggy spends his days working shifts at an ice cream parlour (one he got fired from once bc he broke in high n ate sm ice cream he was lay on the floor in the bk pants unbuttoned stomach bulging sm calling himself garfield saying he had too much lasagna. they hired him bk tho bc he has a harem of middle aged women who lust after him n it brings customers....) or like. cruising parties...... setting off fireworks.... skateboarding...... breaking into abandoned buildings.... filming stupid jackass type tricks....... playing guitar hero...... getting drunk at the arcade..... sometimes busking fr cash in a tossed dwn hat (very badly) (thinks he’s sick at it however)........ or alternatively...... fucking chicks aha...... fuck.......... not exclusive to chicks tho just had to sound despicable bt :smirk: he’s bi Baby....

i won’t lie he’s kind of an asshole................ never rly was taught properly how to empathise with ppl so like he struggles w that....... sometimes he’ll say smthn tht’s genuinely just quite mean n doesn’t need to be said but he doesn’t rly realise it’s like bad. n he’s like. what’s the deal haha why are u mad......

fuckboy. genuinely jst. rly summarises it well. insatiable. sleeps around wildly. will say he’ll call u back n then will not call u back. lies like oh babe i’m moving to france tomorrow fuckkkkkkkkk sucks so bad that we can only have one night but let’s make it special yeah? tits? n then they’ll see him casually skating past them on the street a week later n be like well clearly he’s not in france. ziggy doesn’t care.

calls himself a “genius inventor” bc he once gutted a vintage analog television n made it into a fish tank. it literally leaked water a bit. still convinced he is a literal visionary never seen before never done again. he’s like i’m on the brink of greatness. i’m the next einstein.

has a bit of a god complex where he thinks he’s the sexiest person in any given room n it’s kind of funny bc like dylan minnette’s sexy to me bt tht isn’t a widespread opinion n ur being a bit bold ziggy...... regardless has confidence thru the roof tht isn’t rly deterred by anything or anyone.....

dyes his hair 49729572459752 colours every colour under the sun. sometimes all at once jst different patches. wears lots of tie dye tshirts n basketball shorts even tho he doesn’t play basketball. rly colourful sneakers. just lots of loud colours tbh. often wears a paper clip in his ear as an earring. pierced it himself. someone probably recorded him doing it fr his insta story. probably was drunk.

drives a vespa around tht is baby blue with pastel yellow polka dots. it has lots of tin cans attached to the back by string like on those cars when u just got married. he did not just get married. u can hear him arriving frm over a street away.

almost never pays fr anything bt is always like “yo it’s my treat” n then either dine n dashes or u have to pay

his idea of romance is nuking a hot pocket as breakfast in bed n then complaining he’s hungry n eating half

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

fuckboy antics: he’s insatiable. rabid. notorious. mayb they fkd n he didn’t call........ jst completely ghosted........ mayb they were genuinely into him n he honestly built up kind of false pretences abt them having a connection n then jst dipped..... cld b good fr angst n drama <3 someone please egg his house he deserves it <3

high skl heathens: locals tht were equally chaotic in hs..... just picture him having this group of misfits tht were like so loud n always getting up to no good doing god knows what god knows where.... probably gt arrested together breaking into an old abandoned hospital one time........... rly just doing the absolute most at all times............. probably so loud........... drinking n smoking far too much.....

an attempted teenage relationship: i’m like. tentative to even put this one bc i just feel like ziggy wld be a shit bf. KJHGFSHGFHGSFHGFKGHFKSG. but. maybe it ended in drama.....i’d say this wld probably be a girl bc in hs he probably ws less open w his sexuality... maybe ziggy cheated on her or she cheated on him................ angst........ strife.... we love it we love it........ i crash my car into the bridge... i don’t care... i love it... sudden icona pop moment me stood on stage singing karaoke.... it’s just gone 7am as i write this so i apologise if this is losing any. coherency. smiles so sexy....

last adolescent plot i swear: i picture when ziggy was expelled he somehow amassed a large group to protest w signs outside the school fr him to be accepted back. it didn’t work. he threw a party when he received news he hadn’t got back in anyway. maybe ur muse was involved or helped organise this or was violently opposed.

enemies: ppl who just. don’t like ziggy bc like honestly that’s so fair n valid. KJHGFKGHKSFGHSGKHSFHG..... mayb he like. exploded their mailbox one time when they were younger. mayb he skated over their toes. mayb he fucked their bitch aha fuck................. (joking btw) (don’t condone misogyny) (hashtag feminism). cld be fun to play around w

fwb: probably hs a few of these......... mayb they’re cool w things being no strings attached n lax n at ease w ziggy being the mess tht he is in general..... mayb they want more bt ziggy cannot provide...... mayb they literally don’t get on at all n this is their only mutual ground n they keep coming bk to each other.... :smirk:..... whatever u Farncy....

maybe ziggy’s mum dated ur muse’s dad at one point???? we can discuss this if u think it fits..... cld be fun to play around w............

coworkers: past or present r fun..... mayb they were like WTFFF is this guy fking ONNN at a past job (he’s had a few in the food service industry so pretty open in tht area)... mayb they work w him at the ice cream parlour now..... cn discuss the dynamic probably wld be dependent on the muse involved fr like. how he’d act n stuff.... :yum:

#irvingintro #abuse tw #violence tw #believe tht's all....

14 notes · View notes

thestuckylibrary · 5 years ago

Text

Group Ask 151

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

AO3 Search Tutorial

Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

Anon 1 said:

Looking for an EG fix it fic. Steve stays in the past. Bucky is depressed. Old!Steve dies?? Wanda & Peter go back in time to bring Steve to the future to help save the world. They find Steve & he's confused bcuz he was on his way back but wanted to stop at his fave diner to get some food first. Wanda realizes taking Steve from the past caused it to seem like he never returned after putting the stones back and he's now experiencing time out of order. IIRC turned out Old!Steve had married Bucky.

Anon 2 said:

Hello! I've searched through tags and fics both here and on ao3, and I'm still trying to find a certain fic. I don't remember a lot, but a scene that stuck is Steve used Bucky's lotion/moisturizer to jack off with and when Bucky found out he got mad at Steve, but there was really an underlining reason as to why he got mad. Anywho this is not a lot of info, so I'm sorry and I wish I remembered more. As a side note, thanks for all y'all do and hope you have a great day!

goldenmoleblr and Anon sent in signature collection by yasgorl (oneshot | 5,464 |E)

Anon 3 said:

I've been searching for this pic for the last 3 hours - please sent help! Bucky and Steve are Enemies (kind of) and meet on a mission and have (hate)sex. After that they meet up for sex but Bucky always wears a mask or goggles so Steve doesn't know he is Bucky. They catch feelings along the way and I think there was a happy ending. I already looked at the Enemies to Lovers and Identity Porn Tag and couldn't find it :-(

autonomygirl and Anon sent in The Blind Leading* by SkyisGray (oneshot | 43,034 | E) *graphic violence

Anon 4 said: (mpreg)

Hi im looking for a fic in which a pregnant bucky (resulting from a hydra experiment) realizes hes having contractions and goes into the bathtub to give birth. Steve finds out and sits there with him as bucky is pushing. Bucky realizes he cant push the babys shoulders out and steve basically encourages him? -LK

Anon 5 said:

Hi, I'm trying to find a Stucky fic where Bucky (I think) has a pet rock that someone taped googly eyes and a tiara on so it became a pretty pretty princess award or something like that? Thanks!

Anon 6 said:

hey, hi, i read a fic forever ago where bucky and natasha swap bodies and i can’t find anywhere!!!! i don’t see it in your body swap tag

airybmore sent in don’t leave me hanging, (i’m right here) by bitelikefire (theoleo) (oneshot | 5,278 | T)

Anon 7 said:

I've lost a fic in which Bucky was recovering at some kind of facility until they accidentally triggered him into temporary paralysis. Steve and Natasha took turns reading aloud to him (maybe from Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit)? In the opening scene, he disassociated and attacked someone and thought he was going to be killed for it, but calmed down when they got Steve on the phone. It was definitely a longer one.

airybmore, finduilas88, dolphinqueen10, sergeantbucky-barnes, hjwx and Anon sent in There Is No Shortage of Blood* by alby_mangroves, Dira Sudis (dsudis) (complete | 246,613 | E ) *past rape/noncon, self harm, suicidal ideation

caseysroses said:

Hey does anyone know that fic with engaged! Stucky where buckys parents weren’t coming to the nwedding bc they were homophobic

Anon 8 said:

hi im looking for a steve/bucky/sam fic where sam has a problem with steve claiming the shield belongs to him because its made of vibranium and technically belongs to the wakandans. i remember steve was trying to justify it by saying in the time when the shield was made (40s) no one knew about stealing from other countries or something like that. also it might be set in wakanda but i cant remeber. sorry its not a lot to go off

agentseventyfive said:

Loving the work you do compiling the library. I’ve read some amazing stories thanks to your recs. I’m trying to find a fic I read where they’re on the run & Bucky’s been injured. Steve slowly unfastens his leather Winter Soldier jacket to check his ribs and maybe things could get heated but Bucky being hurt halts things. They then decide strapping him back up in the jacket is best support. I’m pretty sure they were in a cabin on a train? Many thanks.

dolphinqueen10 sent in Lay Your Armor Down by osprey_archer (oneshot | 3,156 | T)

Anon 9 said:

i read this fic and i can't find it anymore-- basically a villain caught the avengers and tied them up and just like,, showed them videos of steve and bucky fucking and mocked steve for being a bottom,,, it sounds weird but it was so funny to read and i need to do it again

Anon 10 said:

I'm absolutely baffled; I lost a post-Endgame fic that, in the long run, was supposed to be a fix-it. Bucky and Sam were pissed at Steve, and Steve begs to talk to Bucky and Bucky tells him that he loved him and Steve said why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have gone if you had said something or smthn like that. Bucky stays with Sam's mom for a while, I think, and there's this girl (I think her name was sage?) whose parents were snapped and when they came back they disowned her? Thanks!

agirlwithachakram and finduilas88 sent in Me and My Heart (We'll Make It Through) by fallendarlings (complete | 160,959 | E) *graphic violence

Anon 11 said:

I read a fic a while ago that was about Steve being an introvert, like I think it was a college au focused on Steve and Bucky navigating their differences at the start of their relationship and it was pretty fluffy. Any ideas what it might be? Thanks in advance :D

Anon 12 said:

Here's what I remember about this fic that I can't find: fake/pretend relationship, one of them confesses their love and the other starts laughing bc they're so stupid, not talking to each other, and the one that confessed says, all sad and heartbroken, "please don't laugh at me." Can someone help me find it? Thanks!

Anon 13 said:

hello! i've been looking for a fic set in pre-catfa; i think steve's mom died, and bucky proposed that they move in together but steve refused. bucky's hurt because he thinks steve doesn't want anything to do with him (Steve just stubbornly refuses help); steve gets sick later in his shitty apartment and bucky rescues him.

#group asks

45 notes · View notes

strvwberryblcnde · 4 years ago

Note

👫 lana & dom

send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons i have about our muses’ relationship.

lana buys lots of things on random whims n i feel like smthn she wld have bought the summer her n dom started properly seeing each other is a polaroid camera. probably one of those fujifilm mini ones in pink w stickers on of holographic mermaids n butterflies. n all her friends wld be subject to hving their photos taken on this at 447294734 parties but fr the most part like 50% of the film wld be spent on dom esp considering how often they’d see each other. i cn imagine her being annoying abt it e.g. bursting in unannounced when he ws showering n flinging the curtain bk n shrieking in delight as she tkes a pic of him in there. penis NOT in shot (lana ws very disappointed when she realised altho inevitably dom ws relieved). it ws probably rly blurry too from her springing out of nowhere n running away after she’d dazed him w the flash bt lana wld never dream of throwing it away she’s probably like ugh cole sprouse WISHES he ws me tht stupid i’m weird i’m a weirdo bitch i’m taking his photographer crown n i’m loving it..... another time if she ws wearing his tshirt or smthn jst to laze around in she wld have tried to convince dom to wear her cropped bowie t-shirt she usually lounges in she’d b like OUTFIT SWAP!!!! like it ws a reality show segment. she’d do his hair w her strawberry clips n everything n wna take a polaroid of tht as well. a majority of these polaroids wld b taken w her sat on top of him in bed peeping thru the viewfinder n grinning sickeningly wide after. she’s bad at organisation bt she wld keep very close track of these polaroids n treasure them a lot bc they’d document a summer where she was rly rly happy. probably took them with her to la too she jst has them hidden somewhere.... idk if she’d ever b able to bring herself to throw them away to b honest

i jst had this vision of lana n dom taking franklin to the park n i already told u abt how she’d tell franklin tht she gives the flowers all their own names n say he shld come up w his own names fr them too bc it’s more fun tht way bt. i cn imagine if they saw two bees trying to pollinate the same flower n like buzzing close to each other if franklin pointed it out lana wld gasp n be like OMG they’re in love. they’re married bees. u can tell frm how bright their stripes r they’re extra yellow n glowing like the sun tht’s what happens. tht means they’re in love franklin. n idk if franklin wld say this or not bt if he asked what loves like lana wld b like hmMMM well. love’s kind of like being first in the queue fr the best rollercoaster. or licking the sugar off ur fingers when they’re all sticky frm candy floss. going to the zoo n getting to see all ur favourite animals on a day tht’s sunny but not TOO hot. enough to give ur nose freckles bt not burn ur shoulders. make u feel toasty like ur inside a cocoon. n love’s like........ she’d pause here. she’s crouched dwn on his lvl as she says this mayb dom hs walked off to get them ice creams n she briefly lks at him in the distance as he’s paying before lking bk at franklin. scrunching her nose playfully as she tries to stall. when she hesitantly continues she’s like. n love’s like getting home after tht perfect day at the zoo n finally getting into bed w fresh sheets when ur sleepy n ur eyes r all droopy n heavy. the pillows r fluffy n it’s safe n warm n all of the gd in the world at once. i think love’s like tht. it’s jst.... nice n stuff. n she’d jst be like :) afterwards realising she’d rambled on n change the subject like hey lk at that BUTTERFLY franklin............. bt i jst think this is. particularly heartwarming to me bc not only wld she have been basing tht on hw she feels abt dom bt. in the past love ws always a thing w barbs tht hurt her whenever she tried to hold it n.... he jst rly transformed her idea of being loved by someone into smthn safe n reliable n consistent......... smthn she cld actually make a home out of instead of constantly hving an eye on the door in case they leave / she needs an escape route..... a relationship isn’t a scary concept w him

lana n dom r like. opposites when it comes to social media esp instagram...... dom jst nt even knowing hw to use it n lana posting so regularly hving a small following fr her fashion n whtever.......... i feel like lana wld try to teach him how to use it bt it wld consist of a lot of her being like no that’s--.... dom that’s--.... that’s not ri--.... n jst throwing her head bk n cackling so much she wld b rly endeared by him being clueless abt it she’d be like ommmmmmmmmg it’s ok i’ll b steve jobs n u can be my sexy assistant tht just has to strut besides me like a car dealership model whenever i go on stage to debut the nxt technological advancement. dom wld have to be like... isn’t he dead? lana wld gasp so suddenly n be like omfggggggggg tht explains why me calling this tech nerd wearing a turtleneck steve jobs lst week bombed so hard mayb he thought i ws telling him to die..... dom’s probably like... i doubt he thought tht lana..... she wld laugh at the thought of this anyway n change topics jst the worst attention span already over it. ALSO this is instagram related bt.... bev.kingston wld rly centralise her hate crusade onto dom when it became clear they were dating / things gt mre official n serious. mostly lana wld b like this is so funny n dumb bt.... i think she wld dm bev.kingston one time being like. ok all jokes aside can u cool it a little on the dom hate not to b gross bt he makes me rly happy n i dnt want him to b sad if he ever advances beyond a technological grandpa n sees all this stuff. bev.kingston wld literally screenshot this n post it on her insta like LANA AND I HAVE BEEN IN CLOSE CONTACT I HAVE DECIDED EVANS BOY IS ON TRIAL BASIS EVEN IF I HATE IN MY HEART AND KNOW FREYA IS ONE FOR HER n she’d update her page like 21/08/2020 LANA DM’D ME ABOUT EVANS BOY (or whtever the date ws) n it’d be sm. lana wld b embarrassed she’d try to get her to delete it she’d b like fk my fking life ur sick bev ur lit rally sick.....

lana treats halloween as a week long celebration she goes to sm parties tht she literally hs to have like..... 482759872 costumes planned each yr. n fr one of them. she’d b like let’s go as each other :) n she’d dress as an angel n he’d dress as a devil. she’d put on red lipstick before they went purely to “help w his costume” n it’d jst consist of her leaving lipstick prints on his cheek n neck n hip even if. his hip wsnt visible w the top he ws wearing she’d b like dom listen.... listen. it’s literally part of the vision n it’s necessary......... it doesn’t matter if ppl can’t see it we’ll both kno it’s there n it’ll elevate the look so mch...... w that attention to detail u cld even b in the running fr winning a prize...... then she wld take the lipstick off like it wldnt even be part of her outfit she only put it on to do this specifically. she’d insist on them getting a photo tgether n it’d b a bit gross it’d b a whole thing she jst.... wld b very proud to b seen w him she’d show him off a lot.... if anyone complimented her outfit she’d b like ya n have u seen dom he’s a devil we match :) n if there ws another pair tht had worn the same which i mean there probably might it isn’t a hugely original concept bt lana wld be like......... ummmmm tht guy is the most pathetic devil i hv literally ever seen..... if she ws drunk she might even b like ummm.... hw does it feel fr dom to be a sexier devil than u............... does it sting? jealous i bet....... n dom wld have to b like lana please.... im sry abt her.... u lk gd haha...... cushioning the blow. taking her hand n leading her away. n lana is jst tittering n murmurs in his ear like. he knew it ws true u cld see it in his eyes. he knew u lkd better than him.

#lana jameson | dominic evans #meme #this is so beefy too god.... dabs forehead #hallcween

3 notes · View notes

starryace · 6 years ago

Text

my personal introduction to vav

so i have a few friends who’ve been wanting to get into vav but dunno where to start so... i’ll just do this lil thing. obviously there’s gonna be my own opinions so don’t take everything i say to heart but like... here we go

vav (very awesome voice -- pronounced vee-ay-vee but i say vav bc im lazy) debuted in 2015, but when they debuted they had a different lineup. zehan, xiao, and gyeoul all left to pursue other activities. ziu, lou, and ayno joined the group in 2017! the fandom is called vampz because of the groups original concept but we don’t talk about that

* = pre-line up switch! | ** = without jacob (due to his participation in a chinese program)

more about the members under the cut!

st van (lee geumhyuk)

note: during updating i ended up having to redo this entire section bc my computer deleted it all... sigh.

everyone’s dad

kinda gives off party vibes, like a cool club dad, you know?

super duper soft :(( he laughs at everything and he loves gentle things and he may be the oldest but he’s babie

gets really embarrassed really easily and blushes and laughs it off

oh! he also laughs with like... his entire body ekhrbgj

tattoos! on his shoulder and right arm

full sleeve completed

self composed the track “im sorry” off of the thrilla killa album

he lived in china for 13+ years and can speak fluent (if not, almost fluent) chinese

he’s super good cook and he wanted to be a chef before becoming an idol

loves jacob :(( with all his heart

weird but he can drink a lot of water really quickly, that’s his special talent

got a dog with the group! her name is cash and she’s super cute

im sure there’s more but i got mad after my computer deleted everything so i’ll get back to updating this part when things dawn on me

baron (choi chunghyeop)

dancer extraordinaire! he actually used to be in a dance team before vav

smiley boy ;;;; literally he has the prettiest smile and the nicest teeth

he can play the piano and a lil guitar im p sure!

he’s honestly a lil shit but we love him anyway

he’s very mom like, and loves taking care of the members, but i spy with my lil eye someone a lil more mom-like but that comes later

he choreographed a cover of shape of you!

unfortunately, his mom passed away early this year (may she rest in peace).

his nickname is baby prince (from his mom) and it was because of his mom that he was able to become and idol

baron singing??? yes,,, yeS!! his voice is godsent istg

he loves loves loves music and dance

wont shut up about millennium dance studio

was the pizza delivery boy in minx’s why did you come to my home

has a very intensive skin care routine

he!! loves!! food!! constantly nomming

ace (jang wooyoung)

remember how i said how i thought there was someone more mom like? meet ace.

literally babies everyone

eSPECIALLY ayno + ziu (sometimes lou, when lou will let him)

sassy, diva, can also be a lil shit -- esp with baron... 92 line is just lil shit line

lil fucking tease, too--

he has an oral fixation-- licks his lips a lot no bueno for me

teal hair? god tier. senorita? also god tier. everything about him? god tier.

plays the guitar... see senorita

“you’re doing wonderful sweetie” but like... a living version of that

abs... abs for days..........

works out with jacob

dimples!! but it’s more prominent on the right cheek.

god he’s??? literally ethereal. like i can’t put into words how pretty he is

he ;;;; has the purest, most sweetest heart

they need to start letting ace have more lines bc omg his voice ;;;;;

really good with kids ;;;;; they love him

he’s a BIG flirt, it’s like when he opens his mouth the only thing he thinks to do is say “i love you” or “you’re mine” or smthn

Prince Wooyoung™

ayno (noh yoonho)

was on no.mercy -- still kinda keeps in contact with monsta x now (hims was lil babie minhyuk)

yknow how baron is dancer? so is ayno -- aYNO IS GOD TIER DANCER ok he ;;;;; ugh he’s literally so talented

he raps too! also god tier

hims a soundcloud rapper -- dropped zero coke (mixtape) and god that boy is talented

self composed their song touch you (aka one of my fave vav songs)

ace’s baby... really, he’s vav’s baby, but still

fake maknae to the max. it still baffles me that he’s older than the others ima list

hims also pretty shy, but it’s real cute ;;;;

lou has such a big fat crush on him and he’s always embarrassed by it

he zones out a lot and is very mellow & quiet until something inside him switches and then he’s like BAM loud and crackhead

ziu.... brings out... the crackhead in him lbr

former happyface ent trainee w/ ziu

puppy!

also really good with kids!! prolly bc he is a big kid himself erhbjeg

often writes his own raps for songs

jacob (zhang peng)

resting bitch face to the max

800% done with everyone’s shit

chinese member!

he was performing in a chinese show called all for one -- his team got eliminated (sad) but that means he’ll be returning to the group (happy!)

that’s why he wasn’t in so in love/thrilla killa/im sorry

hims loves his st van

he also eats... a lot.

ok but like... he works out with ace, right? boy has such chiseled and nicely defined abs, it pains me

he’s a happy lil sunshine boy

savage as fuck

his smile literally adds 5 years to your lifespan

all of the members miss him so much ;;;; its honestly super wholesome and every once in a while they’ll be like “omg cobi would love this” or “jacob....... we miss you”

but then you have shithead lou being like “i mean... its nice having the room to myself” wrehbjehg

he dance too! idk what type of dancing it is but he does it!!!

he was in the chinese movie “the dreamer on the catwalk”

BRING HIM BACK ATEAM PLS I MISS HIMS

HE HAS RETURNED AND HE’S STRONGER THAN EVER

lou (kim hosung)

my #1, my one and only, my precious sweetheart

tall as fUCK

has a deep ass motherfucking voice

grew up in georgia as a kid (can speak fluent english) and then the philippines when he was a teen!

kinda the more quiet & reserved member

but dont let that fool you......

he too is a lil shit

AND A CHAOTIC GAY -- ziu bothers him a lot but he has a big ol’ crush on ayno and he never shuts up about how pretty he is and how much he loves him

he can be a grouchy lil bitch too tho hkerbjeg

in this interview baron and st van were being cute and he’s just in the corner like “youuuu shouuuld daaaate” -- gay. in the same interview thats one instance where he wouldn’t shut up about ayno

hims a rapper too!! he often writes his own raps for songs (much like ayno)

his own mixtape (goodnight) literally is so nice i listen to it all the time

he has a vlive thing he does called lou-dio and it’s real cute

big ears = the cutest thing ever ehkrbgjeh

he collects a bunch of stuff!! like pop figures and toys, like souvenirs from everywhere they go

he was in the youtube webdrama “lemon car video” (eps 1, 3, 7, and 8)

his stage name is lou (pronounced “low” but i refuse to say that) because his voice is so low

ziu (park heejun)

chaotic. just chaotic. chaotic gay, chaotic maknae, chaotic man.

he’s the real maknae tho... doesn’t look it, huh?

manly af

literally so charismatic and funny as hell

wants kisses + love + attention from everyone

goes in for a kiss -- everyone else usually backs away but he’s always disappointed that no one gives into him

kisses kisses kisses

did i mention kisses?

he makes a lot of random ass noises all the time

screm... lots of screm. like you know opossums?? think that kinda screm.

his vocals ;;;;; his singing voice is so, so nice ;;; i adore it.

his room is dirty af i could NEVER

he does some really questionable things sometimes... see here.

like i said, i cannot express this enough... he’s so charismatic. so charming. so handsome.

also!! super hyper fluff ball. hims cute.

aegyo up the wazoo too

former happyface ent trainee with ayno

was in the fri.sat.sun teasers by dalshabet

can get p loud & annoying but that doesnt change how much we love him

idk if any of that made sense... but there you go! there’s so much more to vav and everything they do and who they are, so i hope this just kinda gets more people to look into them? it’s a stepping stone, not everything possible to learn.

+ keep in mind, a lot of this stuff comes from both kprofiles, what i’ve seen in videos, and my own personal opinions & inputs. so... yeah. don’t use what i say as truth/fact unless you see stuff to back it up (or you adopt it as your own opinion idk).

thank you for taking your time to read this!!

#vav #*intro #god what do i even tag all of this #idk #n e ways!!!#lmk what you think #also im not 100% well versed with vav #im kinda a newer stan #but i also did a ton of research #and they're like my 2nd/3rd ults now idek

81 notes · View notes

twin-heroes · 6 years ago

Text

au where the kid trio are somehow launched back in time (or its some weird alternate reality sorta thing idk) and end up in the cloud recesses back when wwx and jc were students there (this is me wanting an excuse for the kid trio to hang out with the teen versions of the adults shdhsjs)

• it all started with jin ling visiting the cloud recesses. lets say they lan sizhui and lan jingyi take him out just to show him around gusu until they stumble back upon the cloud recesses. jin ling is the first to notice. “oh we are back at the cloud recesses!” but lan sizhui can’t help but frown. “this is definitely the cloud recesses, and at the same time, it’s not exactly...” “what?! what do you mean by that?” “it looks the same! but it’s not quite the same...” and suddenly lan jingyi cuts in “sizhui is right! something isn’t right.” it feels off bc this is the cloud recesses before the wen dogs burned it down !! i imagine that despite rebuilding everything, it wasn’t quite the same as before.

• all of a sudden, they hear almost familiar sounding laugh echo out. lsz is the probably the first one to feel his spirits lifted until he sees an unfamiliar face running by. the kids are confused, but they decided it would be best to hide. this boy looks about their age and he was quite handsome too !! v youthful !! but ljy can’t help but huff “running and being too loud is not allowed in the cloud recesses.” (jl: r u SE RIOUS RN ?!) but then they realize his mysterious disciple is wearing yunmengjiang’s sects robes (yES IN THE DONGHUA HES WEARING BLACK AND RED BUT IM TAKING SOME ARTISTIC LIBERTIES FOR THE SAKE IF THIS STORY), but he does not look very familiar.

• and then another figure in purple huffs by, shoving the other disciple. “wei wuxian! how can you keep offending lan wangji like that?! do you really have no face? you are lucky lan qiren is not here!” and the kids freeze, especially jl. this was his uncle! but younger? a lot younger! and judging but what he said, that means...”is that...senior wei before...” ljy cuts in and says what everyone is thinking. lsz frowns. “i believe so...” and the laughter doesn’t stop. “jiang cheng! he’s just so stuffy i can’t help it!” “well you better help it, i can’t keep saving your ass all the time!” and to the juniors, it’s just such a shock to see them like this especially when wwx causally puts and arm around jc’s shoulder and jc despite sighing loudly, sends him an almost fond smile. they are so used to seeing jc and wwx being on such complicated terms together that they often forget they used to be so close. for some reason, it really hurts jl’s heart. he’s n e v e r seen his uncle like that before.

• when the two leave, the kid trio come out again. “did we get sent to some alternate world were sect leader jiang and senior wei actually get along????” “jingyi, rather than an alternate world, i believe we were sent into the past...” “tHE PAST?! HOW THE FUCK DO WE GET BACK?!” “HEY! YOUNG MISTRESS, CURSING ISNT ALLOWED ON THE CLOUD RECESSES!” “OH YEAH?! I THOUGHT YELLING WASNT EITHER BUT HERE YOU ARE!” “YOU-“ “are you two really arguing at a time like this?....”

• and so the kids think of what to do. jingyi w shining is all like “let’s find hanguang-jun !!! he’ll know what to do !!” “oh, jingyi you’re right !! we should find hanguang-jun !!” the two lan disciples fanboy over their heroic hanguang-jun until jin ling just deadpans. “r u all idiots or smthn hANGUANG-JUN IS PROBABLY LIKE 15 TOO !!!!” (ljy + lsz:........) they are in a real mess.

• but can u imagine all the antics they would get into tho and what mess it would. like passing by the wall of rules and suddenly jl is all “even back then there were so many rules,,,,,” and ljy is like “what r u talkin about this isn’t as many as there r now...” jl is shocked and lsz just sighs softly “it must’ve been easier back then...” by this point jl is having a stroke

• OR CAN U IMAGINE JL SEEING JIN ZIXUAN. the angst, the happiness, the sadness, the curiosity— and they he realizes his dad really was a pompous peacock “why the f UCK is my dad such a j Erk ????”

• they would probably get caught at some point and everyone is confused bc no one knows who these disciples are but can u imagine them actually making genuine friendships with all the younger versions of the adults sobs.

• jl accidentally calling jc uncle and it makes wwx laugh so hard. “jin ling, did u just call jiang cheng uncle ????? jIANG CHENG I TOLD U THAT EACH DAY UR BECOMING MORE AND MORE OF AN OLD MAN !!” and jc just explodes “wHY TF R U CALLING ME UNCLE U LIL SHIT U THINK THIS IS A GAME ????” and jl just wants to die. wwx also starts to call jc uncle.

• or omg the lan bois tryna talk to lan wangji ejdjsjsjs “should we call him hanguang-jun ??? is he even huangung-jun right now ???” “second master lan is always a safe option...” “w w w w what about wangji xiong?,,,,” “jingyi...that’s...too much...”

• or what if they decided they wanna change the past so the atrocities of the future don’t happen. ljy says maybe they should try to get wwx and lwj to get together at this point instead of later and lsz says that’s not a bad idea. jl thinks it would be easier to kill wwx instead. he was joking. kind of.

• and suddenly this serious idea turned into the kid trio becoming matchmakers iM

#mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the founder of diabolism #nie huaisang was the first to catch on that the kids arent from this timeline #this is so self indulgent #au where #headcanon

296 notes · View notes

bosspigeon · 5 years ago

Text

Highlights From Last Night's Session

First off, my character's dad seeing his son for the first time in who knows how long, and immediately barking "RAIKE!" in such an authoritative tone i literally, out of character, broke a chair and busted my ass (i have a bruise)

Dad disapproves of Raike's thot attire. Raike tried to close his VERY open shirt but it doesnt actually have buttons.

Everyone trying to approach this evil house normally and cautiously and Raike just. Going for it.

The one character who is from an alternate dimension thats like a religious military organization from 16th century post apocalyptic England or smthn having several concurrent crises because non-humans and magic are real

My 7 INT half-orc warlock who sucked some fey dick and got magic powers trying to "helpfully" show him magic is real by throwing an arm around his shoulders, saying "Watch this!" and eldritch blasting a taxidermied wolf

He fainted

Dad disapproving of Every Dumb Slutty Thing that comes out of Raike's mouth

Very small angry old gay fighter pointing guns at everything and everyone and also not wanting to go into the house until he is promised money by some spooky kids

The druid talked to a spider and now it's her friend and lives in her hair. Its name is Windmill. It can't rly help us much because the house is really big and "I've never been to Michigan! (the attic)" but it's cute and that's what matters

religious anti-magic rogue boy kicked an evil suit of armor in the head with steel-toed boots and made a rly loud noise that summoned an NPC

DING DONG THE BASTARD GONG

the NPC is the dm's character that I know about but my character doesn't. Also my character is mad stupid thinks this weird drow is delightful.

#pidge does tabletop #im having fun #raike is the worst #hes so cheery and dumb #hes that obnoxious sort u cant help but like #thats the 17 charisma #major himbo vibes

4 notes · View notes

trash-the-tozier · 6 years ago

Text

Dog Days (1/7)

Title: Dog Days

Length: ~36.6k words (5k for this part)

Summary: Richie Tozier is twenty years old, over halfway through a Chemistry degree at the University of Maine, and in love with his best friend and roommate, Stanley Uris. And he figures that it's fine, with no cause for change, until he finds an injured puppy near his apartment.

Warnings: Explicit language, small amounts of smoking/drinking, vague description of a dead animal, mentions of animal abuse (the animal stuff is all about the injured puppy, it’s not like... a recurring theme or smthn) and like... one punch is thrown (it's a cute fic I promise)

Pairings: Stan/Richie, background Ben/Beverly

A/N: I have a bunch of losers club x dogs headcanons, so I finally wrote one! this fic was originally written for the @itbigbang, and while the exchange ended up falling through, I did have a wonderful time writing this fic ♡ also posted to ao3 here

"Oh, here." Richie pulled Stan's phone from his hands, who let out a dissenting breath from his nose, but didn't attempt to stop him. "Beverly just sent me the mix she made. I'll put it on while we study."

"What's it called?"

"Uh..." Richie plugged Stan's phone into the speakers he'd left on the coffee table, opening up Spotify. Beverly's playlists usually had hilarious names long enough to rival Fall Out Boy themselves, but this one was unexpected. "It just says 'idiots'. No capitalization."

"Sweet, isn't she?" Stan asked, amused, pulling a notebook and a pencil from his backpack, tucking the writing utensil behind his ear so he could use both hands to pick up his Statistics textbook. That thing was heavy, Richie knew; Stan had dropped it on his head once. He frowned, scrolling through the tracklist.

"These songs are weird."

"Yeah?" Stan slid the textbook to the edge of his knees, beginning to open it.

"Yeah." Richie frowned, reading out the first song. "This Guy's In Love With You."

Stan dropped his book on his foot, cursing loudly as Richie laughed.

"...excuse me?" He finally asked.

"Do you know that song?" Richie asked back, instead of repeating himself. "It came out in 1968! Justify My Love? What is all this stuff?"

"Isn't Justify My Love that really risque Madonna song?" Stan asked, and Richie gave an incredulous little laugh, pressing play on the playlist and laying back against the couch. He nudged Stan lightly with his elbow.

"You're so gay, Stanley."

"Right." Stan raised an amused eyebrow, nudging Richie back. "You kissed four different guys at a party last week, and I'm the gay one."

"That was just for spin the bottle! Besides, I didn't say I wasn't the other gay one."

Stan rolled his eyes, turning to his Statistics homework. Richie was supposed to be working on an English essay but he felt painfully distracted, staring at his laptop screen every couple of minutes before picking up his phone. Justify My Love was, in fact, an incredibly risque Madonna song, and Richie ended up leaning forwards and skipping it because Stan was turning so red that Richie worried he might explode. Thankfully, Richie knew the next song inside and out.

"Def Leppard!" He exclaimed, as the opening guitar notes from the iconic 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' began. Stan glanced over at him.

"Don't pretend you're some classic rock fan." He said. Richie opened his mouth in offense.

"But I am!"

Stan tried to go back to his books but Richie interrupted almost immediately, splaying himself across Stan's lap and singing along in a terrible, dramatic voice, his face screwed up in a way he probably thought was 'punk rock'.

"I'm hot, sticky sweet! From my head, to my feet."

Stan glanced down at him, pursing his lips, but he did look amused.

"You're not hot, Richie. Especially if you're sticky."

Richie pouted at him.

"But I'm sweet!"

"...right."

A huge grin spread across Richie's face, catching Stan's eye and sticking his tongue out.

"Why don't you give me a taste and find out?"

Richie expected an eye roll, already imagining the dramatic position he wanted to land in on the floor when Stan inevitably shoved him off his lap. Instead Stan leaned in close, a nervous jolt racing up Richie's chest when his eyes began to close. His lips were mere centimeters away, Richie's heart hammering, when Stan stopped.

"Shut up, Richie." He murmured. And then he shoved Richie off his lap, but Richie was caught so off guard that he didn't manage to stick his landing, letting out in undignified yelp as he hit the coffee table on his way down. That had Stan laughing, laughing so hard that he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, and in spite of the dull throb Richie now felt in his shoulder, he had to grin. He crawled back up onto the couch, staring hard at his computer screen, trying to use the assignment as a distraction to get his heart rate back to normal. He got about a paragraph of something barely intelligible written, his fingers freezing when he heard Stan murmur a curse under his breath. Richie wasn't sure if he should say something or not, but it quickly became too much to handle.

"Fuck!" Stan finally growled, Richie trying to ignore the way his breath hitched and be a sympathetic friend instead. He'd been doing that a lot lately, when it came to Stanley.

"What?"

"I've tried this problem three times." Stan said in frustration, stabbing at the paper with his pencil tip. "And I've gotten a different wrong answer all three times. I swear I'm using the formula correctly, but..."

Richie leaned over Stan's lap, glancing over his work. He pointed at the third step of his most recent attempt.

"There. You forgot to carry the one."

"Carry the one?" Stan asked in slight disbelief, and when he realized Richie was right, he let out a groan and collapsed onto Richie's shoulder in defeat.

"I hate it when you make me feel stupid." Stan mumbled, his voice slightly muffled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Because you're stupid."

In spite of himself, Richie chuckled.

"Why are you majoring in Accounting if you suck at math?" Richie asked. "You're so much better at other stuff."

Stan sighed, pulling himself upright. He turned back to his homework, twirling his pencil between his fingers. Richie watched his hands.

"A stable job, Richie."

"A stable job? In this economy?" The question was more of a joke than anything, and thankfully Stan laughed. Richie got to his feet, his shoes already on by the time Stan spoke up.

"Isn't that essay due by midnight tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll get it done." Richie waved a dismissive hand. "I can't focus right now, anyway."

"Going on a walk?" Stan asked, but it wasn't really a question, the answer already obvious. Richie took walks off campus when he needed to de-stress, or exhaust himself enough to get his brain to calm down and focus on an uninteresting task. This essay definitely qualified as uninteresting. Richie nodded.

"I'll probably be at work then, when you get back." Stan told him, Richie nodding a little when he realized Stan was right.

"Good luck during your shift! Don't die, or whatever." Richie said, pulling on a jacket. He took his cell phone from his pocket, showing it to Stan. "Feel free to text me if you want."

Stan nodded, Richie giving him a salute, checking his pocket for his keys and his cigarettes before stepping out the door. He kept his phone in his hand, and when he'd made it down the apartment complex steps, he called Beverly's number.

"Hey, punk." She greeted, and he grinned. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just on a walk."

"And you missed the sound of my voice?"

"C'mon sis. I always miss you." Richie told her, and she laughed a little.

"Ben and I live on the other side of campus. You can come over any time, you know that. I gave you a key to our apartment for a reason."

"Yeah yeah, I know." Richie held his phone to his ear with his shoulder, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up. "Bev, about that playlist..."

"Did you like it? Did you and Stan make out or something?"

"That's what that was about?" He asked, amused by the excitement in her voice. “I threw myself in his lap, and but he didn't go for it.”

“Oh, damn.”

Richie laughed. “C’mon Beverly, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like Stan?”

“You can’t fool me, Richie.” She sounded slightly reprimanding. “You want him to stick his tongue in your mouth so badly it’s insane.”

“No!” Richie insisted. “I don’t. I don’t like Stan, and I have to keep telling myself that. I have to, because if I don’t then I will definitely kiss him, and it will definitely ruin everything.”

The line was silent for a few moments, Richie watching his feet as he walked. He veered off the sidewalk and the pavement turned to drying grass underfoot, taking himself in the direct opposite direction of campus and towards a distant patch of trees.

“It might not, you know.” Beverly said quietly. “Ruin everything, I mean.”

“Yeah, but it could. We’re roommates, and we’re friends, and that has to be good enough for me.”

Richie heard Ben’s voice in the background, sounding like he was asking some sort of question, and decided he didn’t want to interrupt their afternoon any further.

“I’ve gotta go, alright? I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Rich--”

“Bye Bev!” Richie hung up before Beverly could protest, slipping his cell phone into his pocket and taking a long drag on his cigarette. He appreciated Beverly trying to help him in her own, playful way, but he needed to be deterred from kissing Stan, not encouraged. Beverly just didn’t understand the complications of love, Richie supposed. She’d met her Prince Charming when they were all thirteen, and while the two of them had taken a while to get together, they’d always liked each other. It hadn’t been that way with Stan.

Richie had thought for years that Stan didn't like him at all. Stan tolerated him, maybe, but didn’t prefer his company. They never hung out one-on-one. Stan was transparent about Bill being his Loser of choice, always next to him, always close to him. Stan liked Eddie too though, connecting with him over things like calling Richie an idiot, or being clean and neat (though Richie knew that truly Stan was the neat one; Eddie was a germaphobe, sure, but he was still a chaotic teenage boy with a unorganized room and backpack full of loose papers. Stan grew up creating alphabetized binders of bird polaroids.)

Richie made an effort, though. When he learned that Stan wore that little circle thing on his head because he was Jewish--and that Jewish people spoke a different language, which was so cool--he studied up to make puns in Hebrew, made probably too many jokes about birds, and learned that poking Stan on the cheek made him blush. Despite all this though, they didn’t hang out independent of the others when they were fifteen, and the rest of the Losers (a group which now included Mike, Ben, and Beverly Marsh) weren’t able to make Richie’s impromptu sleepover. The two of them had stayed up until nearly four in the morning, half watching the Die Hard movies and half talking about nothing and everything all at once. Stan confided in Richie that night that he was gay, not telling him until later that he was the first person he’d come out to.

“Do you like me?” Richie had asked, almost immediately after. He didn’t realize the terrible timing of his question until Stan had turned red and punched him in the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I mean… I meant as friends.”

Stan looked incredibly surprised.

“Of course I do. I always have.”

“...oh.”

Richie’s cigarette burnt itself out between his fingers, a cold gust of wind bringing him back to the present. It was chilly for March, even by Maine standards, Richie bringing his jacket in closer around himself, fumbling with the zipper. He closed the jacket up to his chin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't remember when his crush on Stan had developed, if he was being honest. Stan was just… Different. Different from all the other Losers. Different from anyone else Richie had ever known.

If Richie was in the mood to go out and save the world, he went to Bill. If Richie wanted to recline on a couch and laugh his ass off, he went to Mike. But Stan made him feel balanced. He was just deadpan enough to take in Richie's chaotic energy, just sarcastic enough to be amused when Richie made a joke, but still bite back with a retort of his own. Stan made him feel happy, made him feel right. He couldn't explain it really, but he knew it was a feeling he couldn't lose, and if all he could be to feel like that was Stan's friend, then so be it. Friend could be agonizing at times, but it was infinitely better than nothing at all.

The sound of rushing water registered in Richie's ears a second before his shoe landed in the creek. He cursed and jumped back, losing his footing and pinwheeling his arms in a desperate attempt not to fall entirely into the water. The creek was a familiar route in his walks, the body of water a full mile from campus, and Richie turned to follow along the bank. He kept a safe distance, stepping carefully. He already had one soggy shoe; he didn't need another.

Richie forced his mind to focus as he lit a second cigarette, trying to stop daydreaming about Stan and start planning out his essay, which was much less enjoyable, but much more productive. He didn't know why he needed a literature class, being a Chemistry major and all, but he had to take it, so he was at least going to try to pass. Good grades would help him keep his scholarships, and he needed those; his job at the pizza place he and Stan worked at was barely enough to cover his share of the rent for their tiny apartment.

There was a dark pack of birds up ahead. They looked large, all having landed by the creek bed, huddled close together. Richie had to get a little closer to them to see what kind of birds they were, but once he did, they were easy to identify. Vultures. A group of them, with their wide, dark wings and ugly bald heads. Richie didn’t realize until too late what a committee of vultures must mean, the unmistakable stench of rotting meat hitting him full in the face only a few paces later. He staggered back, his face scrunching instinctively, trying not to gag. But curiosity got the better of him, approaching slowly, wanting to see what it was the vultures were all crowded around.

He couldn’t tell what animal the carcass used to be. It was decomposed, waterlogged, and in the process of being ripped apart, but he still squinted at it in confusion. The bits of fur that remained were fuzzy, dark brown and black, the creature roughly the size of a dodgeball. A rabbit, he supposed. Something like that. It was too round to be a cat, and too dark to be a raccoon, and he couldn’t think of any other animal that would find its way to the creek to drown. Feeling unsettled, and unwilling to get between a pack of vultures and their prey, Richie turned tail and headed back home.

As he said he would be, Stan was gone to work by the time Richie returned. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, both feet freezing--though the wet one much more so--tucking them under his body as he pulled his laptop into his lap. He'd left it open with the screen on, and there was a little message at the bottom of his essay that Richie realized must be from Stan.

Man, you have to analyze Grapes of Wrath? Sucks to suck, that book is terrible. I’m like 99.9% sure you didn’t read it, seeing as I never saw you holding it, so make sure to talk about the multiplying effects of selfishness and altruism, and the symbolism of the dead dog. You’re welcome. And also... good luck! c;

Richie couldn’t stop smiling and he didn’t even care, taking a picture of the message with his phone, and attaching it in a text to Stan.

To: S(a)tan You flirty little bastard

From: S(a)tan ;)

To: S(a)tan ;D

From: S(a)tan If you send me the eggplant emoji I will block you istg.

Richie bit his lip to try to stop grinning but it was futile, leaning back on the couch.

To: S(a)tan What’s wrong with a harmless vegetable? I hear they’re quite NUTritious

He could almost hear the eye roll.

From: S(a)tan I hate you. Also, since you’re only looking at theme and motif for that essay, you probably don’t have to mention that part in the book where the teenage girl breastfeeds the dying old man in a barn

To: S(a)tan Excuse me the WHAT

From: S(a)tan I told you the book was terrible. But you have an essay to write. I’m not texting you back until it’s done.

To: S(a)tan But stanleyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Richie didn’t get a response. He sent a few more whiny messages (and even the eggplant emoji for good measure) but true to his word, Stan didn’t text him. So Richie turned to Beverly instead.

To: Lavagirl Bevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv im lonely and bored

From: Lavagirl What, your other half went to work?

To: Lavagirl ***Stan. My Stan went to work. And I have a stupid essay to write

From: Lavagirl I know. He told me. He also told me not to text you until you finish it. Bye!

“Fucking Stanley.” Richie grumbled, when after a few attempts, Beverly didn’t respond either. Out of distractions, Richie stared down the word document for a few moments, sighed, and got to work. But Stan didn’t text him back even after he’d finished and submitted the paper, so Richie assumed he was simply busy, taking Beverly up on her offer from earlier and making the trek to her and Ben’s apartment, picking up a pizza on the way.

He knocked when he arrived--he’d walked in on too many compromising situations not to knock at their door--beaming brightly when Ben answered.

“I didn't want to only invite myself over, so I invited myself and a pizza.” He explained, Ben laughing a little as he stepped back to let Richie in.

“I was literally just about to text you.” Beverly said when she saw him, getting up from the couch in greeting, her cell phone extended in his direction. Sure enough, an in-progress message To: Sharkboy shone on the screen. “You got that Steinbeck essay finished?”

“Yep!” Richie set the box of pizza down on the small table in the kitchen. “Didn't read the book and submitted the first draft without revising it, just like my momma taught me.”

Beverly slapped him a high five, while Ben looked disapproving. Richie caught the expression.

“C’mon, Ben! It was Grapes of Wrath. That book is terrible. It doesn't deserve a good essay.”

“How do you know it's terrible? You just said you didn't read it.”

“I was told that it was bad by one very reliable source, thank you.”

“But it's Steinbeck!” Ben sat down at the table next to him. “He’s an award winning author. The way he puts prose together--”

“Steinbeck is a dweeb.” Richie said flippantly. Then, when Ben opened his mouth to protest, he continued. “And so are you, Ben.”

“Yeah, but he's my dweeb.” Beverly interjected, walking up behind Ben to come to the table. Ben looked back at her.

“You think I'm a dweeb?” He asked, Beverly grinning and looping her arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. He turned pink and the conversation was effectively closed, Richie grinning and moving to open the pizza box.

“We already ate.” Beverly interrupted. “Ben made dinner. It’s just chicken and pasta, but you can have some if you--”

“Thank god.” Richie closed the box again, getting up with it in hand and walking to the trash can. After working at a place that made pizza, he didn't enjoy the pseudo-Italian food as much as he used to. He would still eat it if there was no alternative though, unlike Stan, who would rather starve. “I really--”

“Woah, hey! What are you doing?” Beverly intercepted his path, taking the pizza box from him. “Not everyone here works at a pizza place. I still enjoy eating one of the greatest food inventions of the century.”

“Good for you then.” Richie helped himself to the aforementioned leftovers, the healthy food causing him to frown and turn back. He’d just remembered something, how Ben had slowly but surely been slimming himself down. “Wait, are you sure you want that, though? Isn't there some diet thing you guys are doing?”

“It's not a diet.” Ben said quickly. “It's just… I'm just making my own food, instead of eating that processed, high sodium crap I was fed all the time when I lived at home.”

“Well, it's working for you, buddy.” Richie put the plate in the microwave, turning to give Ben a wink. “You're looking good.”

“He's getting really good at cooking, too.” Beverly said in excitement, sliding the pizza box into the fridge. All of the praise had Ben's face slightly pink again. “That is the best way to a person's heart, you know.”

“I've heard that between the fourth and fifth rib is a pretty good way, too.”

Ben frowned at his pessimism, Richie sitting down. Beverly sat down across from him.

“You're just jealous because you don't have a dweeb.” She declared.

“Stan isn't a dweeb.” Richie said quickly. A grin grew on Beverly face.

“I didn't say anything about Stan.”

“Sure, but you were thinking it, and he was thinking it--” Richie pointed his fork at Ben with a sigh-- “and I was thinking it, so…”

“Why don't you just tell him?” Ben asked. “What's the worst that could happen?”

Richie stroked an invisible beard, pretending to think.

“Let's see. I confess my feelings--probably by kissing him because let's face it, I'm hopelessly in love and rash action is very much my style--and he's so freaked out by his roommate having a big gay crush on him that he changes his name, moves to Yemen, and I never see him again.”

“Don't give yourself so much credit. You're not so bad of a kisser that it drives people to move to another country.”

“Bev, I kissed Cynthia Anderson in ninth grade, and a week later she moved to Canada.”

“That was a coincidence!” Beverly exclaimed, as Ben laughed. “Just be charming! You could… I don't know, write him cute notes or something.”

Richie rolled his eyes.

“I'm not Ben.”

“Hey, it worked.” Ben pointed out, Beverly nodding.

“If I leave him love notes like Ben did, then he'll probably just think the notes are from Bill, like Beverly did!” Richie pointed out. He frowned. “Bill is cool. Stan would probably go out with Bill.”

The following silence lasted a little longer than Richie liked, neither one of them rushing to his defense.

“C’mon, guys!”

“You won't know until you try, and that's all I'm going to say.” Beverly said. “Speaking of Bill though, I talked to him today. We talked about possible tourist stops for The Road Trip.”

“Oh, tell me.” Richie said excitedly, stuffing a bite of chicken in his mouth in preparation to listen without interrupting. The Road Trip was a dream hatched up by Mike, an idea to get a van after graduation and drive around the country, fueled purely by nothing more than the desire to get the hell out of Maine. None of the Losers, aside from Ben and Eddie, had ever left the state before. But Ben had simply moved in from a different state in middle school, and Eddie was out of the state now, at a pharmacology school in New York with his tuition, housing, and meal plan all controlled by his mother's money. He claimed to like the freedom of the city, though.

They spent the next couple of hours brainstorming about things they could do, and places they could go. Most of it was simply amusing and unrealistic (in truth, the whole trip was unrealistic, but they tried not to think about that) Richie in the middle of explaining just how they would get away with stealing the world's largest boot out of Minnesota when his phone began to ring. It was Stan.

“King Stanrick the Third!” He answered grandly, putting on a rather bad British accent. “How was your shift at the pizza palace?”

“Monotonous.” Stan answered. “You finished that essay, then?”

“All done with time to spare, thanks to you!” Richie told him.

“Yeah, you're welcome. Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

“Yeah.” Richie said apologetically. “Ben and Beverly took pity on me and gave me their table scraps.”

Ben looked a bit disgruntled at his home cooked meal being called table scraps.

“That's awesome, actually.” There was a smile in Stan's voice now. “I am craving sushi, and now I can get some without you complaining.”

“You disgust me.” Sushi was about as abhorrent as asparagus, which Richie lovingly referred to as 'the green stalks from hell’. Stan laughed.

“Anything we need from the store while I'm out?” He asked. Richie thought for a moment.

“We are out of ice cream.” He said. The line was quiet for a moment, Richie able to hear the background noise of the road as Stan drove.

“...anything essential we need from the store?” Stan tried again.

“Ice cream is essential, Stanley! It shaped me into the man I am today!”

“Really? Then maybe you should never eat it again.”

“Fuck off.”

Stan laughed again, a quieter and more private kind of laugh that had Richie grinning, holding the phone a bit closer to his ear.

“Alright.” Stan allotted. “We're broke as hell, but I'll see what I can do.”

“See you soon?”

“Yeah.”

Then Stan hung up, Richie slowly lowering his phone. He'd all but forgotten about his friends, and Bev had a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Oh, fuck both of you.” He said, the words made infinitely less menacing by the light blush on his cheeks. “Also, thank you for having me over, the food was delicious, I love you both so so much, and I'm going home.”

He said it all quickly, rushing around the table to give both Ben and Beverly tight hugs, then made his way out the door. Richie showered and put on comfy clothes, and about thirty minutes later Stan was home, a half-eaten roll of sushi in one hand and a small grocery bag in the other.

“Hey.” He greeted, but Richie made a show of scrunching his nose up.

“You smell like raw fish.” He said. He couldn’t actually smell the sushi, but knowing it was there was bad enough. Stan rolled his eyes.

“No I don't. I smell like pizza grease, and I need a shower.”

Stan was right, and soon disappeared into the bathroom. When he re-emerged he was clean and warm, soft in a loose t-shirt and old pajama pants as he sat next to Richie on the couch, his curly hair a little damp and slightly frizzed from drying.

“Well Stanley, it's nearly nine-thirty on a Sunday evening. Ready to get crazy?” Richie asked.

“Crazy. Right.” Stan gave him an amused look. “I have class tomorrow, so no. And you have work.”

“I do?” Richie didn't remember being put on the schedule. Stan nodded.

“The manager asked me if you were free to cover an opening shift tomorrow, and I said yes, because you are.”

“Opening shift? Those are so early though!”

“Ten-thirty is not early, Rich. Just because you only have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays doesn't mean you can spend Monday doing nothing.”

“I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it means, actually.” Richie countered. “Real talk though, anything you want to do?”

Stan thought for a moment.

“I still am only on season three of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” He said, and Richie gasped.

“Yes, that, we’re doing that right now.” He quickly pulled up a streaming site on his computer--prompting a “we really need a TV” comment from Stan--hurrying off to get his laptop's charger cord. When he returned Stan was holding a half pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and two spoons.

“You said you wanted ice cream. Want to share?” He offered, and Richie felt his heart melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. The episode started and they settled in in front of the computer screen, Richie remembering something almost at once. He pointed his spoon at Stanley in excitement.

“Stan! Can I spoil something from season five?”

“What? No.”

“It’s really important! Please? Please?” Richie repeated the word eleven more times, and finally Stan relented.

“Fine! What is it?”

“Rosa is bi! She’s bisexual.”

“Oh.” Stan smiled. “Cool.”

“Yep.” Richie winked. “Me and Rosa Diaz, two badass bisexuals.”

Stan laughed, shaking his head.

“No, you cannot compare yourself to Rosa. You’re more of a Scully than a Rosa.”

“Hey!” Richie protested, eventually convincing Stan that he was much more like Jake, the show’s main protagonist. After some hilarious back and forth Stan was likened to Amy, the character Jake just happened to be in a relationship with. If Stan noticed the comparison he didn't let on, and Richie sure as hell wasn't going to say anything about it.

“That was fun, but let’s not do the other Losers.” Stan requested.

“Oh! That Was Fun But Let’s Not Do The Other Losers: title of your sex tape.” Richie exclaimed, knocking his spoon against Stan’s. Stan laughed at the reference, leaning back into the couch cushions and resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to slowly ease into the contact, Stan staying cuddled close to him for the entirety of the episode, even after the ice cream ran out. This was Richie’s third rewatch of the comedy, but for those thirty minutes, he couldn’t have said a single thing the episode was about.

#stozier #stozier fic #richie tozier #stanley uris #it 2017 #myfic #I'm so excited to post this fic #dogs #dogs!!!!#all the animal stuff sounds bad but this is a really cute n domestic fic #where pining idiot richie is front and center #dog days

46 notes · View notes

esseastri · 6 years ago

Text

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 10)

Hi, fronds.

I meant to keep going, I really did, but then That Thing happened and I was really upset and also a LOT of real life things happened, most good, but all busy, so. Bear with me. We’ll get through this monster eventually.

Part 10 encompasses pages 753-828 (previous parts)

I’m still super upset about the Rift, y’all. Like. Ultimate #yikes.

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

“That would give privacy to talk” Okay, but you are still in a public space with a bunch of other people, you maaayybe shouldn’t be, like...just using the king’s name casually like you’re besties?

Since this is supposed to be a stealth mission, isn’t it?

OKAY BUT ADOLIN JUST, UNPROMPTED OUT OF NO WHERE ASKING TO SEE KALADIN’S SWORD

SHALLAN PLS “It’s a little small” GURL PLS

“Kaladin liked them both...just not together.” I’m just waiting for someone to yell at them to get a room. Kaladin is the most likely candidate and I’m going to die laughing when it happens.

honestly, polyamory is the real solution here

Two Unmade.

which means we need two radiants to go fight them so Adolin WHEN ARE YOU MANIFESTING, MY BOY?

literally every time anyone mentions seeing a cremling--especially a weird-shaped cremling--I JUST GET REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. WHAT IF IT’S 200-CREMLINGS-IN-A-TRENCH-COAT???

“But Adolin had been raised by a mother with a fondness for hugs” I’M SCREAMING THIS IS FINE I’M FINE. HE MUST MISS HER SO MUCH. HELP

wait, but don’t we know for sure that shardblades can be stuff that’s not swords? Like, didn’t Syl turn into a spear at the end of WoR? So maybe the Radiants DID make other tools for their followers--maybe they did have shardhammers for building and shardbows for hunting and shardshovels for digging latrines, but after the Recreance, the spren died, so they lost the ability to change shape?

Worth thinking about, anyway.

“Thank you for being you, Adolin.” “Everyone else was taken already.” BUDDYYYY. I LOVE HIM. HE’S SO GOOD AND WONDERFUL AND AAHH

OOHH, Shallan gets SQUIRES??? Somehow I didn’t really think that the Lightweavers would be one of the orders that had squires.. they seem a solitary bunch.

Kaladin just...scooting down to sit next to the highmarshal without an invitation is. listen, he’s always been brave, but this is a different sort of bravery--doing something that might get you in trouble with social codes is different from running headlong across a not-set bridge into battle--and I know he’s done shit like this before, often, but not...not really in context of military superiors? I don’T KNOW THIS FEELS SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT AND I’M EXCITED FOR HIM.

I find it ironic that the COVERED walkway from the Oathgate platform to the palace is called the SUNwalk, but that’s fine.

Kishi is a really good name, dangit brandon stop taking all the really good names

Azure’s sword is a her?

YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT, KALADIN!! “How did you get here?” “I flew.” YOU CAn’T JUST. KAL, PLS

I’m

loev

hem

“I’ve given answers. If they aren’t the ones you want, perhaps the questions aren’t very good.” HELLO, I LOVE THIS BOY VERY MJUCH I DON’T KNWO IF YOU KNOW THIS ABOUT ME

wait come here chasing her

OH JESUS FUCK SHE’S VIVENNA ISN’T SHE

She’s from Somewhere Else and she’s got a weird sword and her name’s a color and Vivenna was SUPPOSED to show up in this book GODDAMNIT THERE SHE IS

heheheheheh gosh that’s fun

...............pleasant.

I suppose it is the HEART of the revel, after all...

I really, really didn’t sign up for a horror novel, idk why this keeps happening SIGH

You know you’ve watched too many shitty action movies when the first thing you can think of when a guy gets thrown off the city wall isn’t “oh god he got THROWN off a WALL” and is, instead, “I bet tehy’d have used a Wilhelm Scream there heh”

Listen, Kaladin, I know you CAN fight without flying, but you are currently fighting flying enemies, and you should absolutely go have an aerial battle with them, please, I just want you to be in more cinematic, badass fights pls.

OKAY, BUT MAYBE LAUNCHING YOURSELF OUT A WINDOW AT THIS FUSED GUY ISN’T THE BEST? WAY TO HAVE THE AERIAL BATTLE?

okay, I asked for this, but I rescind my request, BE CAREFUL BABE, PLS.

YES THE HEART

GO FOR THE HEART

YES

Y E S

“my red life” yah, ok, that’s definitely Vivenna NICE

hnnnngggg, every time Kaladin summons the sylbade and, like, does the thing where he rests her on his shoulder all casual and intimidating I just melt, I’m so

he’s so

and so

hnnnnnnnngggggg

mrrrghhh, OF COURSE There’s a gang that steals the food from Shallan’s informants and KILLS THEM EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE KIDS, uggghhh. Should have known.

Continues the trend of Shallan not really knowing anything about how life on the streets work, huh?

OK this lady with vine patterns in her skin who’s Soulcasting for Azure? Actual Soulcaster suffering the effects to way too many years Soulcasting? OR........Radiant?

Honestly, I suspect literally everyone of being a radiant at this point.

pffffffffffffffffffffffttt HOID

of course.

but why did he help? Why is he helping? What’s his game?

“She hadn’t lived on the streets and she didn’t know how to help people.” NICE YOU TO FINALLY REALIZE.

“The only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I’ve practiced.” COOL, NOW I’M SAD ABOUT HOID. Listen, I know his books are sooo far off, but the more things he says, the more I want to KNOW about him. Argh.

“Many people have suffered more, and they got along fine.” Oooohhh, Shallan, honey. No one ever taught you that the fact that other people have it worse does not negate your suffering.

Also, like. most people have not, in fact, had it worse than you, really. In the grand scheme of things, having to kill both your parents when they tried to kill you sucks a LOT, despite your privilege making the rest of everything better for you...

GOD BLESS ADOLIN KHOLIN, WHO, WHEN CONFRONTED WITH HIS FIANCEE IN PANTS, REACTS ONLY BY COMPLIMENTING HER COLOR COORDINATION AND RECOMMENDING HER COAT BE TAILORED A HAIR BETTER.

BLESS THIS GOLDEN SUNLIGHT BOY.

“You’ve been wanting an army to attack your palace, Your Majesty... well, we’re ready.”

YOU MIGHT BE READY, BUT I’M NOT

DO NOT JUST GO INVADE THE PALACE WITH AN ARMY

GOD, HOW MANY OF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

hi, Adolin talking to his sword still makes my heart swell, every time, he’s JUST SO GOOD AND PURE AND WONDERFUL

SUNSHINE BOY

HE PUT ON HIS UNIFORM

I’M

I lov hiiiiimm

it’s not Shallan that needs to drive this one back.

I’m still so enamored of this theory, I’m sticking with it even if it’s wrong, I don’t care. One Unmade per Radiant Order. It’s gotta be one of the boys this time. The Heart... Kaladin is nothing but heart, it’s gotta be the windrunner Unmade.

No one tell me I’m wrong, I will be SO DISAPPOINTED if it doesn’t go down this way.

OH SHIT

OOOHH SHIIIT

OOOHHHH SHIIIIIIIT

IT’S THE THING FROM THE COVER THE WHATSITCALLED THE ROCK MONSTER

OH SHIIIIIITTT WE ALL GON DIE

THUNDERCLAST, THAT’s the word phew glad I remembered

listen, Kaladin letting himself get smashed by a giant boulder just so he could Lash it away HURTS MY HEART

DON’T HURT KALADIN, 2K18

yuuuppppp it’s not a shardblade. Blergh, I didn’t finish Warbreaker, is there some wacky shenanigans with Vivenna’s sword? Does it pull the Breath from people or smthn? ...Do people on Roshar have Breath?

Adolin is SUCH ! A GOOD! COMMANDER!

.........I’m very glad that some of the palace guard aren’t evil, but. why did time move weird for them, apparently?

Is this the second Unmade? Is this one something to do with warping time??

I’m confuuuused.

fuck

that’s

hot

GLOWING KALADIN WITH A TWELVE FOOT LONG SYLSPEAR, FLYING THROUGH THE THROWN-OPEN DOUBLE DOORS??? YEAH I’M F I N E, T H I S I S F I N E

nooo don’t split up

never split up

I don’t want this

Adolin giving Kaladin the Bridge Four salute. I’m cry.

oooooooooohh, Shallan summoned Pattern!! And she’s not panicking! I’m so proud of her ahh!!

Skar and Drehey just. continuing to save Adolin. Best bodyguards. Best friends. I love them so much.

mmmmmmmmmmm

I don’t

want this, this is intense this is A LOT

aaaaahhh fuck Kaladin’s wall squad came with. They are SO Going to Die, and I WI LL C RY

she’s singing? So... she’s... hm. What happened to the queen?

I STILL DON’T THINK SHALLAN CAN DEFEAT THIS UNMADE

ohnohecallshissonGav

I’m

ohnohecallshiswifeDearOne

I’m

Elhokar, please

you are so small, just. Be brave.

KALADIN, YOU MADE SYL KILL A SPREN??? I don’t care that it was an evil spren, that’s. You can’t.. Syl. Don’t make Syl kill her family, pls, I’m suffering.

oh no

what ancient spren, WHICH ONE, AESUDAN.

AND HOW

HOW DID YOU BIND VOIDSPREN TO PEOPLE

I’m assuming that’s what it is

I’M CONCERNED

Yelig-nar and Ashertmarn. 1. both of those are terrible star wars names, Brandon, you usually do better. 2. Are those BOTH Unmade? Or is Yelig-nar Aesudan’s...voidspren?

stormspren?

Ancient Parshendi Ancestor of Evil spren?

“I have taken the gemstone into me.” WELL, THAT’S A STEAMING PILE OF # Y I K E S

mmm yeah, no, she didn’t do it. Shallan didn’t defeat it, it retreated. Or was called away or something. We’re deeeefinitely going to have to deal with that again.

oh shit is this the other one?

this is the other one

Yelid-nar is Aseudan’s Parshendi Ancestor’s name. Sja-anat is the other Unmade.

I’m scared.

ON THE STAIRWELL? GoDDAMNIT THAT’S A TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE PLACE FOR A FIGHT

don’t

make kaladin

kill his parshendi friends

please

oh fuck, Moash is with Kaladin’s parshendi friends, isn’t he?

damn, I AM NOT READY FOR THIS

yeah, no SHIT The heart fled. I TOLD you Shallan couldn’t defeat that one.

but why is THIS one helping her? OR IS SHE

WHAT IS HAPPENING

GOOD DON’T KILL EACH OTHER PLEASE.

oh Kaladin

“He’s always been able to trick himself into seeing a battle as us against them. Protect those you love. Kill everyone else. But...but they didn’t deserve death. None of them did.” HI THIS IS MY GHOST TYPING, I AM DEAD NOW. Kaladin has come so far, from scraping along, doing everything he could to breathe, let alone survive, and now--look at him. Look at him realizing that everyone, everyone is doing the same thing he is. They are all of them fighting to survive, they are all of them fighting to protect what they love.

Everyone is the hero of their own story, even if they are a villain to you.

God, this book is so literary, it’s so strong. Be better. Do better than those who have wronged you. See yourself in those around you, even your enemy, and do better. Take responsibility for who you are and what you do and who you fight. God, THIS BOOK.

Also, Kaladin trying to stop the fighting, I’m crying.

THEY ARE ALL DYING. I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD AND I TOLD YOU I WOULD CRY AND HERE I AM. SOBBING.

noooo

no no nono

I’ don’t

want this

put it

back

I’m

Elhokar waS SO CLOSE OH M Y GOD HE

ONE MORE WORD OF THE IDEAL GOD DAMNIT

Moash

of course

he always wanted to kill the king

fuck

I knew this was coming because I got fucking spoiled but it still hurt like a punch to the gut

FUCK, HE KNEW KALADIN WAS THERE AND HE DID IT ANYWAY

god

f u ck

I’m

he knew. he saluted. he didn’t even pause.

DAMMNIT, MOASH, YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS.

god, Kaladin screamed, I’m

not okay

So much for Kholinar, god

“If we engage the device, we’ll be caught in a disaster.” AREN’T YOU ALREADY

...sapphire is windrunners, right? so why is the epitaph.........it’s a sapphire recording. A windrunner. “Am I not supposed to want to help people?” Does that mean...what is the Fourth Ideal of the Windrunners? The order of people who help people. Why...would their Fourth Ideal...not? be about helping people?

UGH, the radiant recordings make me SO NERVOUS ALL THE TIME.

1. I hate Taravangian. A Lot.

2. Here’s a thing: Navani spent a whole book and a half thinking her eldest child was dead, but holding out hope she was alive, and getting to have that vindication when Jasnah showed up. How...how long is she going to hold out hope that Elhokar somehow made it out alive only to have that shattered when the rest of them show up and he doesn’t?

ALSO FUN FACTS, DALINAR PROBABLY NOW THINKS ADOLIN, ELHOKAR, AND KALADIN--THREE OF HIS FOUR SONS--ARE DEAD, PROBABLY, SO THAT’S FINE, I’M FINE.

EVERYTHING’S FINE.

OH FUCK IT TOOK THEM TO SHADESMAR

WHY

OH MY GOD

WHERE’S JASNAH WHEN YOU NEED HER, SHE CAN NAVIGATE THIS SHIT

also !!!! PATTERN AND SYL AND ?????? ???? ?? ADOLIN’S?? SPREN????? PLEASE SAY IT’S ADOLIN’S SPREN. HIS BLADE. WHATEVER. PLEASE.

LET ADOLIN HAVE A SPREN 2K18

god, Vivenna: HARD SAME, GIRL

also, I forgot that she would have had to have come through the Cognitive Realm to get from Nalthis to Roshar, but heeeeheheheh yeah. She knows what she’s doing here, or at the very least has an idea. Excellent.

but FUCK

SHADESMAR

AND EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE DEAD

and dear fucking god, Moash, you’re better than this, why must you continue to make REALLY BAD DECISIONS.

these are my priorities

leave me alone.

#op #Megan reads OB #Oathbringer spoilers #Stormlight Archive #Oathbringer #god it's been a HOT MINUTE #but I'm going to try to make time to finish this #I can't say how fast the last two parts will go but I'm Trying to finish #I think I'm over the hump anyway...past the Thing I got spoiled for that made me not want to keep going #but here we are. I made it. so hopefully I'll get through the rest more easily #also I have a MUCH BETTER job and living situation now so I'm less stressed generally so I've got more spoons to lb #so fingers crossed I don't get derailed again and we knock this monster out!

25 notes · View notes