#i love how strained and messy it has the potential of being | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

destinygoldenstar · 3 months

Text

Just A Little Rewrite Of The Character Of Marinette Dupen-Chang/Ladybug (Part 1; Origins)

Hey y’all. So I never expected to come here.

I’m doing rewrites of characters as exercise cause why not? I always need to be writing otherwise my skill goes rusty.

I don’t have a wonderful history with this show. I remember watching season one as a kid, but I didn’t go beyond that because I got bored. I thought it was just a me thing and I was more attracted to serialized kids shows like Ninjago and the books of Sailor Moon. (Yes, that’s serialized.) As a kid I liked the books more than the 90s show and I think that’s a completely personal thing.

I think that’s just my personal preference, I tended to gravitate towards serialized shows a lot more and just have episodic shows as background noise.

But I posted before what drove me back in to this show. My GF’s sisters were a fan of the show, and the movie was coming out at the time. So I was forced to watch it with them and thought it was decent.

They hated Ninjago without even seeing it besides clips, and I liked that. We both saw these respective shows as childish junk without much intrigue and value. So I made a deal with them that I’d watch Miraculous if they watched Ninjago. They actually started to like Ninjago after seeing its compelling story unfold. They didn’t think it was serialized. As for me on the Miraculous show after seeing it Seasons 1-5, I expected that to be the case for me too…

What a surprise, I didn’t see the appeal and even got uncomfortable and upset at some points.

I would say why, but honestly, there’s so many YouTube videos online that pretty much say the same things as to why it didn’t work for me.

It’s too long, the villain suffers from the length and is a joke, the main character is a stalker, the secondary is a sidelined joke, they hate a teenage bully but give a middle aged terrorist a pass, messy lore, promotion of toxic behavior-etc. I’d just be repeating.

So instead of doing that, I got a cool idea that I got from one of the sisters. She asked “Well if you’re so much better than professional writers, how would you do it?”

I am NOT better. Keep that in mind. I’m just a scatterbrained person who likes to write and has personal preferences.

I do see the appeal with this show. Again, I was a Sailor Moon Stan as a kid, I liked Pretty Cure, magical girl properties are my special interest. So this show should’ve been a slam dunk for me. It has a very compelling IDEA of the secret identities putting a strain on a relationship between two leads, and the main villain being the father of one of them.

So… how would I bring forth the potential of this story? Well, there’s a lot more factors than you think. That’s why I’m going to only going to be focusing on one factor for now. (I’ll do Adrien/Cat Noir in another post)

I’ll see how this does, and depending on if people like it or hate it, I’ll continue and flesh out this rewrite idea.

So… love it or hate it, here you go.

The show’s theme introduces you to the idea of Marinette as a character:

“In the daytime, I’m Marinette. Just a normal girl with a normal life. But there’s something about me that no one knows yet, cause I’ve got a secret.”

Except, a more accurate description is ‘perfect girl with a perfect life’ because that’s how the story presents her a lot of the time. I can get behind being above average in privilege, but I can’t get behind none of her very blatant flaws being called out. This girl actually kinda scares me.

I wouldn’t mind it if her stalking-possessive nature was called out and a focal point for character development, but it’s not. I wouldn’t mind it if it was just placed in one bad episode, but it’s nearly EVERY episode.

I honestly don’t know if she’s better or worse than Total Drama’s Sierra…. Honestly I’d say Sierra’s worse cause she’s in a more sexual show, but I can definitely see arguments otherwise. (Y’all who know my blog, know I DESPISE Sierra as a character)

That, and Marinette’s essentially a ‘perfect person’ in the narrative and can do no wrong, to the point where she’s instantly a great Miraculous holder episode 1. It’s hard to relate to her, which I’m supposed to.

So I’m going to be rewriting her character to have a legit arc, and a likeable character.

Keep in mind that I am not here to ‘replace’ the original version. If you love the canon Marinette and the canon show, then by all means, love it. This is just an exercise and it’s not meant to be personal.

And uh, EDIT: This was originally gonna be one post, but… the essay got way too meaty and long, so I’m splitting it up into parts, parts being the significant points of growth Marinette has in this rewrite version. So… you guys like what I have so far, I’ll definitely continue this.

So, here’s my version of Marinette Dupen-Chang, AKA Ladybug.

Before I begin with Marinette, I have to address her status as Ladybug, and in order to do that I have to address the Miraculous, and in order to do that I have to address the power system, and in order to do that I have to change said rules.

In short, the original show is 130 Episodes long, not counting any specials. I feel like those can just be supplemental and I won’t be addressing them here. So many episodes are filler and this is ridiculous. It also hurts the threat of the villain when one story arc is THIS long.

So in this version, it’s NOT 5 Seasons of the Hawk Moth story arc.

Instead, it’s 2 Seasons.

How many episodes per season? I wrote all the episodes of seasons 1-3 on notes, cut out the episodes that were either filler or contained content I cut, or were just flat out offensive, and I STILL got a big number, so… I definitely plan it to change.

Yes there’d still be filler episodes with this logic, but it’s also not fast enough that the story feels like it’s going too fast, and personally, I don’t hate there being filler. So I can keep SOME.

But which episodes I’d keep in and which ones I’d cut out is a discussion for another day. If I mention an episode that means it’s not cut. That’s a given.

Basically, the Season 3 finale is now the season 1 finale. And the Season 5 finale is now the season 2 finale and the end of the story arc.

Cool?

Next, the lore regarding the Miraculous.

In the original show, there’s multiple Miraculous with different powers, and the Ladybug and the Cat Noir Miraculous are deemed the most powerful due to their abilities of creation and destruction respectively. And these Miraculous have been carried down from user to user since earth existed.

ALL of that is being carried over here. I have no problem with those rules.

But I am changing how the Miraculous work.

You can NOT swap users Willy Nilly. Whoever is linked to the Kwamii of a Miraculous is the ONLY one who can activate those powers. The only way to break that link is by using certain abilities that permanently cut that link. More on this later. (So NO Scarabella, no other ALT user, it’s just Marinette who can access it)

How does Hawk Moth plan to use the Ladybug and Cat Noir Miraculous to grant wishes with that logic? Miraculous’s powers can be released if they are broken, relieving their Kwamiis and ending the cycle of that Miraculous Hero forever. But if the powers are released, anyone can get their hands on it when they’re released, so you know, someone could use that to grant a wish of theirs.

I’m hesitant on this one, but regarding the ‘After you use a certain ability you only have five minutes left before you de-transform and have to replenish your Kwamii’. The rule itself is fine, it’s just broken constantly, especially in later seasons. Yeah in episode length it’s realistic but in universe some of these are definitely taking more than five minutes. So I WILL keep that rule but increase the time limit to TEN minutes. Not five.

In regards to the Ladybug Miraculous specifically. This one is important. The specific abilities themselves.

She has Lucky Charm, where she can summon a random item to aid her. Okay. Simple.

She has the ability to capture the Akumas. Okay. That’s pretty vital story-wise. Fine.

Then the titular Miraculous Ladybug…

Yeah fixing literally everything I removes consequences like property damage, people getting hurt or killed, etc.

So you’re probably thinking “Okay, this is where she cuts this power entirely so there’d be actual consequences”

Well… you’re actually wrong.

Yes, I didn’t remove this ability. But I DID change the rule for it.

Remember when I said the only way to break a Miraculous link is by using a certain ability that cuts the link permanently?

This is that for the Ladybug Miraculous.

You CAN use Miraculous Ladybug. And it DOES restore everything to its proper fixed state. (Physically.) EVERYTHING. All at once.

BUT, by doing this, the user resigns. Unable to use any power from the Ladybug Miraculous ever again. Any strength or power they got from the Miraculous is gone.

Once it’s explained to Marinette, and essentially the audience, it’s a stake of whether or not she should use that ability. Especially when there’s multiple consequences in battles that could be fixed. She could fix it. She could fix the world and resign and go back to her normal life. But when Hawk Moth would still be around, that’s not the right thing to do.

Why do I bring this up?

Well one it’s to keep in mind for some character choices. And two, it’s so I can reveal another big change on Master Fu. One that impacts Marinette’s character.

Master Fu is still the guardian of the Miraculous box. But he’s NOT the user of the Turtle Miraculous. He’s not a current Miraculous user at all.

Before Marinette, Master Fu was the previous user of the Ladybug Miraculous.

Yep.

First off, it’s my firm belief that all Miraculous are bound by no gender.

Second, the Ladybug Miraculous are basically one of the two most important, and considering the Cat Noir Miraculous Users hold the power of DESTRUCTION, why would the guardian of the box NOT be the Ladybugs?

Third, this establishes a connection between Marinette and Master Fu. But what exactly is that connection aside from “He used to have this power that he is now carrying down to her”?

That’s where we get into the Origins, where we’re starting discussions about certain key episodes.

Origins

The Origins episode begins not with an info dump narration, but with a little narration from our main character.

“In the daytime, I’m Marinette. Normal girl. Normal life. But there’s something about me no one knows yet, cause everything’s about to change for me.”

This is a younger version of Marinette. About 6-7 years old. She’s playing with her mom’s hat on the window seat of a bus.

She and her mom are on this bus moving to Paris France as Chinese Immigrants, as her mom is now engaged to a local baker that lives here.

Yes Marinette’s parents in the show weren’t married until just a few months after this flashback’s event. And this dad is adoptive and not biological. It’s not very huge on the story, maybe it could be discussed in a filler episode, but all it does is make Marinette not half Chinese, just Chinese.

If you’re gonna have your MC be non-white, have your MC be non-white. Especially if there’s the opportunity.

Anyway, the mom and daughter get off the bus and enter the city, and after some establishing shots on how grand Paris is (in fantasy land, anyway), the bus leaves, but Marinette’s mom realizes she misplaced their passports on the bus and runs after it to go get it back, telling Marinette to wait on the bench and play with the hat.

She does, wondering if she should put something in it as a pleasant surprise for mommy, and then…

Paris gets attacked.

In an almost dream-like state, black butterflies swarm the place, with people screaming and running. Some people not being fast enough and turning to stone once the butterflies make contact with them.

Think Chat Blanc, that’s kinda what it looks like.

Marinette watches it all stuck in place, unsure what to say or do.

That is until a voice demands the surviving citizens to go a certain direction.

That’s when the Ladybug appears in view, leaping in vision heroically and using their magic yo-yo to capture the dark butterflies. It re-directs them, but there’s too much for them to handle. They try, though.

We’ll learn, not here, but in a later episode, that this is Master Fu.

Marinette watches in awe of the ideal perfect looking hero handling the threat the best they can. All while they’re pleading to some ‘cat’ to stop this.

I’m gonna leave it at that here, but TLDR, this is to indicate that the previous Cat Noir (Not Adrien) is one of the villains causing this. Or at least working with the previous Hawk Moth. (Not Gabriel)

Anyway, this allows the Ladybug to take their guard down, and it results in him to direct the butterfly swarm the wrong way, leaving them to hit Marinette.

From there, her vision goes dark. But we know what happened to her.

We stay in her POV as we can’t see anything, but just hear the voice of the Ladybug.

“I’m sorry… it’s all my fault… but I’ll fix everything the only way I know how.”

We see a flash of red, and him decreeing,

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG”

And just like that, red floods Marinette’s vision, and then starts to open up again to reveal Paris again.

Only, it’s perfectly normal, and back to the pretty state we originally saw it.

The Ladybug is nowhere to be found.

Marinette’s mom comes running to her daughter, grabbing her hand to take her away, terrified about what just happened.

Still, Marinette looks around for the hero that saved her. Confused. Curious. As an actual ladybug flies away in the sky.

*Queue Opening*

Keeping a shot of the sky, we follow the ladybug down to the bakery home that the Dupen-Changs love in.

Their house is the same as in the original. (Anyone else want that bedroom?)

The ladybug flies to the window of Marinette’s room and we see a few shots of fashion concept art, almost all of them with red and black colors. There’s also a few kid drawings on the wall of Ladybug and different variations of what her hero looked like. (None of them are accurate)

This is a show don’t tell way of giving the audience a good indication of Marinette’s character and how this prologue impacted her. She’s not only looked up to this heroic figure, but was also inspiration to apply to her fashion designing profession.

(Yeah anyone remember she was a fashion designer? That’s actually one of the aspects of her original character I unironically liked. I miss the old days when girls can be girly. So yeah, that’s definitely being kept here.)

It’s early in the morning. But we see Marinette, now a fourteen year old student, getting ready for school in a quick (like ten second) easy to digest establishment.

You may notice my concept art for Marinette on this post and that I added an ALT outfit to her original civilian design. Well this is why, and this is where we see that.

She does everything to make the look PERFECT in this scene. Re-tying the shoe laces to be perfectly even, adjusting the jacket collar to be perfectly firm, and trying to put gel in her hair to hide the cowlicks from her OG and Ladybug design.

The point is clear, again show don’t tell, that Marinette is a perfectionist who values her appearance. Though not in the diva way like Chloe, more so she cares about how other people see her.

This is gonna be a constant for this version of her character. She cares a lot about finding what she deems as the best version of herself, and beats herself up when she fumbles at that or makes mistakes, mistakes that she makes A LOT. Because she’s only human. However, with her idealism of Ladybug, she’s non self aware that she’s deeming ‘the best Marinette’ as a completely different person.

(I’m going for a theme of self love here.)

She even went as far as having made a ladybug patterned hat to display for school today. Which she sheds nervousness about.

She gets called by her mom to breakfast, and in the frantic pursuit, Marinette says she’ll be right there, fixes her hair again, and runs down the stairs-

-Only to trip over them.

Yeah she’s still clumsy. I didn’t write that out.

Her mom asks if she’s okay, to which she gives the thumbs up, and from there we get a similarly framed breakfast scene from the original.

There’s some changes to context though: It’s NOT the first day back at school. It’s not the first day of school at all. No, it’s only the first day for Adrian, who is transferring this day.

But Marinette doesn’t know that, nor does she know who Adrian is right now. (Because Gabriel keeps his son locked away until the agreement to let Adrian go to school.) So in a post about rewriting Marinette, I’m not gonna touch on Adrian centric scenes.

No, instead in this scene Marinette is concerned about a student council meeting. Saying “I bet Chloe will shut down my ideas again.”

Yes. Marinette is a part of the student council. An addition here.

She’s not the president though. She’s the fundraising officer.

The student body president is Chloe Bourgeois. Other student council members include but not limited to: Sabrina, Kim, and Zoe Lee. (Yes Zoe Lee is here from the start. She’s not a half sister, she’s a full sister. A twin.)

So not only is Marinette a part of this council, but in said council she is surrounded by Chloe followers. To get an idea of how… unfortunately treated she is there, as well as everyone supporting Chloe and her calls over Marinette’s, or anyone else’s. Not because they like Chloe, but because she’s the daughter of the mayor and therefore intimidating. So nobody wants to get on her bad side.

It also paints Marinette in the light of ‘I can’t speak up for myself or say my opinion if I know what’s good for me.’

Anyway blah blah her mom tells her that the hat fundraiser for a local insect zoo is a good idea, Marinette knocks over the breakfast stuff and is ashamed, her dad making his first appearance gives her the macaroons as a bonus, and she happily leaves for school saying she loves them.

The parents are loving and supportive in the original and I have no problem with that.

We get her running to school, finding an old Master Fu nearly getting hit, and her saving him at the expense of the macaroons.

Here’s the only change to that scene: (Aside from the Fu scene before not being here in favor of that prologue) Fu is NOT trying to test anyone here. He’s just an old guy now, and without any Miraculous powers, age caught up to him. Instead during the save and the crashing of Macaroons, Marinette scuffles to save a few whole ones, and accidentally includes the Miraculous Box in that mix.

Yes I know the box in the original is bigger than a macaroon, in this version let’s pretend it’s much smaller to fit an accident like this realistically happening.

After she leaves, Fu realizes the earrings are gone, and he starts to panic a bit. He didn’t intend that to happen and is ready to go after her to get them back before she interacts with the power item. Only problem? He’s old and can’t get to her fast enough.

Just like in the original, Marinette goes to school and Chloe and Sabrina, in their introduction, kick Marinette out of her original desk to make way for Adrien. With of course the tweak that no one mentions first days, and another change that Alya is NOT in the same class as Marinette.

There’s a reason for this.

So instead of anyone defending Marinette, Marinette just takes it and moves on, sitting in the corner quietly. She doesn’t object, she doesn’t fight back, she just takes it.

From there we get Adrien transferring into their class for the first time. (Yes he actually shows up here.) And Marinette, at first, is more interested in fixing her hat, UNTIL the last name gets brought up by Chloe. To which she recognizes the name ‘Agreste’ as a famous fashion critic in Paris.

That knowledge makes her unwilling to approach the new guy, thinking he’s the same way and will critique her at every turn. After getting chastised for sitting at the wrong spot, she wants at least one period of a break from it.

After class, and after Ivan gets sent to the office for… I guess calling someone out for bullying you too loudly?? That’s gotta be the most brutally realistic this show will ever get. Marinette spends lunch focusing on fixing up her plans, and trips over again, ruining the macaroons left. At that point she decides to screw it and silently shun herself for failure.

But this is where Alya, from another class, comes up to help her out, recognizing her as the Fundraising Officer. Marinette is surprised that someone recognizes her and apologizes all over.

Alya was trying to find a student council member to help her pitch a campaign idea for a local insect zoo that she knows so she can send off her pet spider there for safety from her little sisters. (Yes Alya has a pet spider. My headcanon.)

Marinette, who already had plans, decides to add that to her paper to sell her point, and Alya gets to see her work. She loves the work, and also recognizes the Ladybug inspiration on her hat. She expresses that if Ladybug was still here, they’d be thrilled to see her looking out for the little ones.

Marinette says there’s no point as she’ll never be like that, but Alya uses her hero fanatic nature to pump her up and to stand up to Chloe to get her plan heard. Thus the start of their friendship as they introduce and hope to see each other more.

Two things: One, Marinette isn’t really friends with anybody in school up till this point. She’s not this overly popular figure that everyone worships. She’s just a regular girl who trips over her own feet, and is seen as the quiet girl in the corner in a crowd of cool kids.

Two, everyone knows Ladybug as the local superhero that whisked away years ago. Ladybug is famous in that sense, and kids especially talk about Ladybug like a perfect hero. All the more significant when a new person takes on the Miraculous.

Moving on with Marinette stuff, we have the student council meeting she attends. She’s in the back keeping to herself as, again, the rest of the council is Chloe and her followers. Yes Kim and Zoe Lee are her followers too, AT FIRST. It’s not just Sabrina.

As Chloe discusses the fundraiser plan for her mommy’s magazine plans, or whatever you want to say, (point here is that Chloe is someone who focuses on results SHE thinks will be beneficial. Not considering what those results do to others) she gets votes, well, she silently threatens them with a stare to vote on that idea, but remembering Alya’s words, Marinette decides to speak up.

She shares her idea that since she and Chloe are both fashionistas, especially Chloe, they can sell hats to fundraise not for magazines, but for the aid of an insect zoo in need of the support, to be a safe haven for those critters.

Only Zoey is fond of the idea, but she doesn’t get to say anything cause Chloe shoots down the others voices. Chloe shuts that idea down, saying it’s a terrible idea and “Who would EVER want to waste money on creepy crawling BEASTS?!” That fundraiser would fail.

Marinette tries to speak up that she knows how-

But Chloe shuts down all of it rather harshly, even going as far to ask if Marinette has the mayor’s support?

“No-“

“Then stay in your corner. Not every Ladybug wannabe has the essence.”

She flicks the hat off Marinette’s head, says that her stitching is rookie’s work, and proceeds to campaign HER idea. While everyone goes along.

While Marinette, again, takes it and moves on, hugging the hat tight the rest of the meeting.

I want to bring up that this is a show don’t tell explanation on why Marinette isn’t often targeted for Akumas, other than MC plot armor. She’s naturally a quiet pushover person at the start. She’s a perfectionist and that goes for unprofessional emotions. She doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve or allow herself to break when it’s not fit, so instead if she doesn’t get the results she wants, she keeps the fit and disappointment to herself as much as possible and moves on with her day. Not because she’s emotionless, not at all, she just can keep a level head better.

She’s not Jiang Kai Smith, she’s not an impulsive hot head. She CAN control her temper.

The next time we see Marinette is when Stonehart begins to attack, to which he goes rampaging around the school to look for Kim.

Because it’s implied the class we see in the original episode is the first period. There’s no way in hell Ivan would be dormant and just sit in the office the entire day till Kim left school. So instead he’s just attacking the school.

When the attack happens, all students are demanded to evacuate. You know, treating this like an actual serious emergency, until authorities arrive.

Marinette and Alya are in the same room when this happens, and Alya being Alya, decides to go after the monster and ignore orders. Marinette tries to go after her saying it’s too dangerous, but loses her when she breaks a corner. Stonehart’s damage on a wall cuts her off, and the girl is forced to hide in an alleyway alone. And rubble traps her there. (Not on her. Blocking the way out is what I mean.)

So you know that after this, Cat Noir is trying and failing to deal with it as we get Adrien getting his Miraculous, accepting the hero position right away, and going to have some fun.

Marinette has the last scene of the first part though, as she, in fear, is trying to calm herself down. Again that ‘she has a level head’ thing I talked about earlier. She decides to find a way out of her situation and rummages around her bag, to which she goes for the macaroon box…

And that’s where she finds the Miraculous Box.

Wondering what that’s doing here, she opens it up, it glows, and Tikki is revealed, waking up for the first time in years.

Marinette’s reaction is basically the same, freaking out and throwing whatever she has at the little bug mouse thing.

Tikki chastises the rude awakening. She’s been dormant for how long and THIS is the welcome back party she gets-

Only to realize it’s a scared girl that’s doing this, so she changes the attitude to calm her down.

In the original, Tikki is… super boring. Basically she’s just an exposition and lesson of the day dump, and the only personality she has outside of that is being nice. At least Plaag has personality.

Not this Tikki though. As this Tikki is… kind of arrogant.

She’s deemed one of the most powerful Kwamiis of one of the most powerful Miraculous ever. She’s had her fair share of users. And thus she has high expectations for all her users to be these perfect idealized heroes… and Marinette ain’t it. So naturally she’s nice, but she’s also strict with her ideals and prideful in her power and status and expects the best out of Marinette. (In short, she would NEVER deem Marinette ‘the best Ladybug ever’)

She has a bit of a character arc, so don’t think she’d be that unlikeable for very long. I just gave her a blatant flaw to make her more interesting.

Anyway, Tikki like in the original tries to calm Marinette down and pleads for her to help her. She doesn’t know why her previous master chose this girl as the new Ladybug, but fact of the matter is Marinette is the only one who can stop Stonehart.

Marinette starts listening at the mention of Ladybug. She could be Ladybug? She could be her hero?

Tikki, now that attention is granted, explains to Marinette her powers and how to capture the Akuma, and how to transform.

Marinette, without being ready, does, and transforms into Ladybug the first time.

To which her reaction is panicked screaming like in the movie.

Again, you seen my drawing on this post you see that I redid her Ladybug design.

The reason for this is simple: I just hate her design in the original show. Why is this minor wearing a body suit?!?!? On top of that it’s just a red body suit with black spots on it. I think you can do a lot more creative things with a superhero ladybug costume.

I will admit my redesign isn’t perfect. You can see a lot of my ‘magical girl stan go brrrr’. But I tried to keep the Ladybug motif as much as possible while also alluding to her Chinese heritage a bit. The gold around her black belt space is actually the yo yo string.

All I wanted to do with it was “NO minors are wearing body suits in this kids show! You can’t make me!”

Anyway, Part 2.

Marinette content is… at the same place we left her last episode.

Other than the setting of her being in an alleyway instead of her room, or an abandoned shop, this is literally just how the movie did it.

She finds the yo yo, gets yeeted outta there, gets swung to Notre Dame where the fight with Cat Noir and Stonehart was lured to.

And she crashes into Cat Noir. And they meet for the first time.

And their introduction to each other is… literally just the movie again. Seriously the movie did real good with this part. And, you know, the show could’ve used some more France landmarks than just the tower.

The only differences here that it’s Stonehart instead of the gargoyle. Which you can easily rewrite that design to be a stone gargoyle, it’s stone, it’s in the name. And Cat Noir had a plan to lure it here as a trap, that he was really confident about, but it fails. (He did become a superhero today after all)

Same chase from the movie just with that logic. Honestly this movie sequence did a really good job with setting up the two personalities of the heroes and keeping the lighthearted humorous tone of the show, while also being tense enough to keep interest.

But there really aren’t any citizens making watermelon jokes, cause most of them know Ladybug as a concept already. I can see Adrien, being shut out from the outside and all of that, making watermelon jokes and not knowing, but everyone else? Nah.

Not even the spot vision needs to be changed, as that’s just how Marinette thinks. It’s not part of her power, it’s just her. And I love seeing that thought process.

Same results too; They lure Stonehart in gargoyle form to a train station, Cat Noir gets his foot stuck, Ladybug saves him, and the train proceeds to run over the creature and destroy it.

Yes I know that’s not how Stonehart works in the show. I don’t care. This is beginner’s boss, let it be beginners boss. Regular rock monster. Not too complicated.

I know the magical girl formula well enough.

Anyway, there’s only one change here: This is NOT the end of Stonehart. As like in the show, the Akuma gets away to Ladybug’s neglect. Because she’s more worried if Cat Noir is okay.

The reason I use this sequence instead of the one in the show is because the origins episodes are supposed to be a two parter. As in two episodes tell one complete story. In the original though you have two instances of Marinette not being confident in her ability to be Ladybug, getting confidence to take on the role, fighting the villain, and winning. And then they just repeat the same thing again the next episode! Like what?!?! You don’t need her to have TWO instances of her learning the lesson!

So it’s just one of those instances here.

After they THINK the fight is said and done, Ladybug helps out Cat Noir as they both realize they’re surrounded by reporters and cops asking them questions.

Alya is one of them, asking if they’re the new Ladybug and Cat Noir.

To which Ladybug answers no. She’s not. In fact, she was thinking about handing that role to someone else, so… bye.

And she throws the yo yo and chickens out.

She goes to a… balcony? Bathroom? Closet? Somewhere that’s private. And de-transforms. Tikki congratulates the first fight, but Marinette isn’t too pleased with how that turned out. Tikki however assured her that it’s going to work out. They’ll get her in shape.

Marinette is about to leave, but then she sees in her view the multiple stone gargoyles around the city. All frozen.

Tikki asks if she captured the Akuma, to which Marinette realizes the mistake, and immediately starts beating herself up about it, saying over and over again that she can’t do this, she creates disasters for everyone, nobody like that could be Ladybug. Ever.

And Tikki doesn’t try to object, and simply states that if Ivan gets Akumatized again, this army comes to life.

To that, and realizing that the boy could be in danger, Marinette decides to go find him and help him. She may not be cut out for Ladybug, but she can’t just do nothing towards someone hurting.

She goes to a small hospital to find Ivan, and she asks a doctor how he’s doing. She says he’s not injured or sick at all, just distraught. He’s going to be okay.

Ivan is in a chair looking exactly that way. After a soft knock to let him know she’s here, Marinette tries to ask him personally what happened. He tries to be tense and say it’s of no business of some acquaintance like her, but she kindly insists, promising to not tell anyone any of it.

Not that she had anyone she was close to she could tell-but-whatever. You get it.

Still, Ivan refuses to speak. So instead Marinette goes to the crumbled paper, revealing that he was crushing on another girl in their class. Once she reads it aloud, Ivan says that Kim is always picking on him and taking advantage of his own feelings and he’s just sick of it.

Marinette, from her own experience, though without context here, says that she understands. “I get what you mean.”

This is vague enough to be taken into either context. Either she’s talking about Chloe, or Kim and her backstory with him from the original show, that… didn’t get cut entirely to your surprise.

Marinette says she’s no Cupid, but her advice is to at least try to get to know Mylene better. Maybe this could turn into a real thing one day.

Ivan is hesitant, saying he’s still mad at Kim, to which Marinette says “Then by all means, be mad at Kim. Just don’t let that possess your every waking thought is all.”

See I personally don’t like the message that ‘it’s better if everyone just stays happy’. You know me and my character, that’s not how I roll. So instead the message is ‘Control your negative emotions best you can. But when you have to feel them it’s okay to feel them, and the ones that take advantage of those feelings are the real bad guys.’

Ivan decides to call the school to see if she’s around, and Marinette decides to leave to give him privacy. What’s next on her mind is how to break the link between her and Tikki so she can hand off the Miraculous to someone else.

And as she wonders this, she bumps into Adrien, who also came to check on the Akuma victim. She tells him that Ivan’s fine and just needs privacy for now, then asks a little coldly what he’s doing here anyway.

Adrien says he was just… curious how he was doing. That’s all.

It’s awkward after that, as Marinette asks if he’s friends with Chloe. To which Adrien gets his line “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Marinette tells him she doesn’t need another mental beating today and tries to brush him off, thinking he’s all on board for Chloe’s plans. Adrien tries to say something but is interrupted by Nathalie showing up and needing to talk to him.

Alya finds Marinette outside to gush about the footage she got of the ‘new ladybug’ that’s showed up, and this is basically the “What if Ladybug isn’t cut out to be a hero even though everyone thinks she is?” talk. It’s important because the way Alya describes Ladybug in this scene is what Marinette wants to be seen as, so it’s something she can take to heart.

That’s when Ivan gets Akumatized again and the Stonehart comes back. Though MyLene didn’t even show up or answer, that’s why he’s upset. So instead he goes after and captures Kim… and Chloe. Cause she’s a jerk.

It’s the same as in the show with Cat Noir taking action and failing, as he can’t capture Akumas, and Alya gets caught in the crossfire for Marinette to witness.

And well, because the last talk Marinette had before the fight was Alya’s impression of her, and in this version not too long ago, it’s more fresh in hers, and the viewers mind, and hits harder.

(They’re well done shots. I will give the producers that.)

During Marinette witnessing the peril, we also get some flashes of the incident in the prologue. As this is the same spot that happened, and is now replaying in her head.

She’s familiar with peril like this. She knows the fear that comes with it. But Ladybug was there to save her and everything else when it first happened.

And now it’s her turn.

She has to be that Ladybug to protect these people that need it.

So she puts on the earrings again and confirms to Tikki that she is, indeed, the new Ladybug.

It’s the same fight as in the show, not anything to change there, up until the Hawk Moth speech thing, as in this rewrites context this is actually the first time we get introduced to Hawk Moth.

And Ladybug swearing to stop him is a little more impactful here, as she recognizes the dark butterflies.

She captures the butterflies, leaving all that’s left to save Ivan… and hesitantly, Kim. Ladybug, predicting the Akuma is in the other clenched… claw? Thing? Idk. From an observation in the previous match, makes the plan to figure out how to open the fist.

Details of that plan is… not in my script, cause you can creative no matter what. But just know it doesn’t involve anyone ‘growing closer’ in this scenario.

They get it, both boys fall, Ladybug and Cat Noir save them, she captures the Akuma, the day is saved. Only change is that Ladybug doesn’t use Miraculous Ladybug, for obvious reasons, as the other stone beasts disintegrate with the Akuma, and just become rock rubble around people.

We can do a character centric episode on why MyLene wouldn’t show up to stuff like this. Maybe something regarding her family.

After the fight, Ladybug assures Ivan she personally will not blame him for this. That was Hawk Moth. Not him. Ivan is still disappointed he won’t get the chance to tell MyLene, but she tells him “Well, you see her in school, right? There’s multiple chances to speak up. Just… do it. Even if she says no, it’s worth it.”

Keeping that message in mind for herself, she’s already on her original desk the next day, watching a broadcast that the news reporter is explaining about the heroic return of a new Ladybug and Cat Noir. She also mentions the footage is from a minor that goes by the name Alya, who in an interview says she’s starting a blog to post footage of the presence of Ladybug and maybe play the detective and figure out her secret identity.

Chloe sees Marinette back in her original seat and demands that she gets lost. Only this time, Marinette stands up for herself, and tells Chloe to get lost. After a snarl, the blonde gives up.

Ms Bustier tells the class that they’re doing Chloe’s fundraising idea by majority vote, and Marinette sheds disappointment. Adrien notices.

Then we get the rain scene.

Adrien says hi, but Marinette isn’t in a mood to talk. So he decides to bring up a fact that he voted for her idea.

That gets her interest.

Adrien explains how he knows they don’t know each other very well, and knows that people have their opinions about him… but he’ll be the first to say his, that he respects people with a good heart. Hopefully that convinces someone that he really is trying.

And he’s rich, so… he can help her help that shelter anyway. And he offers her his umbrella. It’s the same scene from there, with Marinette developing her crush, making him laugh, and being all awkward while she watches Adrien leave.

The last scene of the origins episodes is of Marinette (and Adrien) having a letter appear behind them out of nowhere. Unsure how and what to expect, they read the letter. Which tells them both:

“Meet me at *the massage spa’s address* at Dawn tomorrow. Come transformed. We have a lot to talk about.”

“- Ladybug from 2000”

I think you know who that letter is from.

So you know what I’m going for with Marinette throughout the rest of the show, is giving her an actual character arc. An arc involving a theme of ‘self love’. You love someone, but if you’re gonna love someone, you gotta love yourself. And Marinette clearly doesn’t seem to think too highly of herself unless she’s Ladybug. That’s because she’s basically pretending to be someone else, someone she saw in her youth as a perfect figure, and what the public views her as. With all the responsibilities that come with her new role, she clings to the image of Ladybug, rather than Marinette herself.

With the nature of Akumatized victims being a focal point, and Marinette being one of the two main characters, there can be some cases where Marinette interacts with or even befriends some of her classmates or other townies that we’re just acquaintances with her before. All while she uses the Ladybug idea in her head as the reason why she succeeds. Not realizing that in the best cases, it’s all just her. Just Marinette.

Her crush on Adrien is also important, as unlike in the original, I want her to actually talk to him, maybe awkwardly cause she’s still a kid, but still talk to him and get to know him. If Adrien loves her, then that must mean she’s worth it. But they can’t click and become a couple because Marinette cannot love herself. For one reason or another that becomes apparent and her pretending to be another drives the boy away from a love angle.

Marinette is also a little more flawed, and are flaws that actually get called out in some episodes. This is apparent with the new Tikki dynamic, clashing with Marinette’s more humble nature. She’s a pushover in her normal Marinette self and unable to say no to anything. When she tries to go do what she wants it leads to recklessness you expect from any teenager. She also has trouble trusting some people, due to her backstory with Kim, which yes is kept, but one, there’s some edits to it, and two, this episode is gonna be moved to a Season 1 episode so it’s blatant it’s not an excuse but rather used as a base for lessons Marinette has to learn. And you know, explaining her actions not justifying them.

The idea that something like that can be viewed as PTSD and excuse for bad behavior in the writers eyes is honestly disgusting.

What was that Terrible Writing Advice quote?

“Why use trauma to explain behavior when you can use trauma to excuse behavior?”

Not this Marinette though. Maybe through her inability to speak up or confront a crush, there can be a few episodes, not every episode, where she does certain tactics. But here’s the thing: Unlike in the show, these will be viewed as BAD things to do. Ones she gets CAUGHT doing and is disciplined as such. One she needs to apologize for and learn a lesson that there’s much better ways to interact than being an obsessive psycho.

And definitely by season two, this stalker behavior is non existent. Because she would’ve learned the lesson already.

And you know, she isn’t gonna be the focal point of every single episodes, as I definitely want some to be Adrien centric, and even centric on other side characters.

Don’t think Adrien is neglected, he’s an entirely different topic as I didn’t mention his bits in these origins. Because his issues are different from hers.

Anyway I’ll try to get the next post of some other episodes that are Marinette centric in my eyes, if you guys like this version. Or not, you know, best be honest. That’s cool too.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladybug #rewrites #rewrite #character analysis #character designs #character redesign

4 notes · View notes

acrylic-reverie · 5 months

Note

🖋 (I should have sent this before the headcanon thing but it's fineeee)

🖋 Potential Dynamic Ideas | Plots Meme

You're totally fine!! Throws my dynamic ideas at you... mostly DSMP! I'd love to hear your thoughts and preferred combinations too if you'd like to share :D

Rivals Duo ✦ I need more of them!! Gimme the friendly/competitive rivalry, or the enemies with a common goal trope. Times where they have to cooperate and times where they want each other gone -- I'm not picky! I just love the silly dynamics where they're always trying to be better than each other, as if they aren't the best of the best already. ✦ Bonus points if they finally come to understand each other's worth instead of being competitive about it and start to work together instead!

XDNF ✦ We have a roleplay going on with these two already… But either way, they're one of my favourite pairings! I write about them an unhealthy amount and I'll always be delighted to throw them into more dynamics together. There's just something so fun about the relationship of a god and their favourite mortal; one of my favourite dynamics in general is when weaker characters get their hands on a power that they shouldn't have. A mortal learning the consequences of messing with divinity… A god stooping to the level of humans and trying to learn their customs… You literally can't go wrong with this duo.

Canon Deities ✦ There is so much creative freedom with the gods of the server and I'd love absolutely any dynamic involving them! XD and HD, a little bit of Mumza sprinkled in there, even PandasPVP who I'd consider to be a pretty rare muse! The hierarchy of the divine is not spoken about enough... I wanna see the side of them that they don't show to mortals. The behind-the-scenes of their creations, the true extent of their power, even the stupid disputes that they get into with each other.

Drunz ✦ I'm a recent lover of Drunz dynamics and I really want to look into them more. There's so much more to their relationship than what they show on a surface level, what with the fact that they both have egos too big for their little human heads and share a common goal of experimenting with the revivebook. I just know there's darker stuff going on beneath it all because they're too willing to sacrifice for each other... you can't tell me they aren't crazily close to each other. ✦ The angst hits really hard with them, too. Give me all their selfishness within their relationship whether it's romantic or platonic, give me the unintentional hurting because they care too much about their goals to think about each other until it's too late. And definitely give me tragic mistakes that force them into realising just how much they truly care, they're just not letting themselves express it. My sillies.

Awesamponk ✦ I feel like Ponk writers are super rare and I was really excited to see them on your muse list! I'm a sucker for c!Awesamponk's convoluted relationship and I haven't really been able to explore it much in the past. Everything about them is so messy and I love it. All of the emotions that they've had buried beneath the torture that they keep putting each other through... not even Pandora's Box and the Egg could properly tear them apart. No matter the situation, the AU or whatever, these two stick together like glue!

Owen and Oeca ✦ Crossovers aren't everyone's cup of tea, but if you are interested, I think a dynamic between Owen and Oeca would be interesting to explore. Oeca already has a strained relationship with the Owen from his universe. Meeting a second who has no idea who he is? There's so much potential there!!

#drowse ⋆ answers #dreaming ⋆ ooc #dcathbook

2 notes · View notes

essayofthoughts · 2 years

Note

Wanda Maximoff

Oh, you're gonna drag me back, are you? HOKAY.

one aspect about them i love

I love Wanda's ability to acknowledge her own mistakes and move forwards from them, learning and improving as she goes. Unlike some characters I could think of.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

Wanda. Is. Better. Than. Tony. Stark. Tony was a forty year old adult before he realised or cared that the weapons he sold killed and hurt people - and then only because it directly affected him. And he still made weapons for himself as though his hands were safe ones despite such an obvious point of ignorance and callousness.

Wanda has always known that weapons can hurt and kill people - and that, indeed, her powers can be a weapon - and we see her awareness of how much harm she has potentially done when Novi Grad is ripped into the sky by Ultron. You will note: she is very hesitant to use her mental powers from AOU onwards. She learns very rapidly from her mistakes and resolves not to repeat them. Unlike some.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Wanda has intermittent but chronic pain in her hands - if she overexerts her powers it causes inflamation in the joints of her hands for the next couple of days, due in equal parts to how she has to gesture and strain against herself to direct her powers and because of the powers themselves.

one character i love seeing them interact with

PIETRO. I love the Maximoff twins, I love their messy codependency. In his absence, I love Wanda and Vision's interactions, slowly learning what they are becoming through each other, and supporting each other in their differences. It's very gentle and very good.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

I feel like Wanda and Bucky could have some interesting conversations about being manipulated/lied to or otherwise used by Hydra, and their respective grief over losing the people who most matter to them.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

The twins are used to sleeping in close proximity and would often sleep back-to-back or clasping hands growing up, especially after the bombs. It's a reassurance that the other is there and present and safe. With Pietro dead, Wanda doesn't sleep very well for a long time.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff defense squad #thesilverstarling #ask games #ask

9 notes · View notes

sundaeserenade · 2 years

Note

Thoughts on the following reguri tropes:

"Green/Blue was a little shit but went through extreme character development after losing to Red, becoming Gym Leader and eventually finding Red atop Mt. Silver"

"Professor Oak is terrible and he and Green have a strained relationship"

"Red's mom thinks of Green as her son"

"Green hates being a gym leader"

oooo this is fun!!!

I like Green getting character development after losing to Red!!!! but i also like him still being a little shit. I always love when people mix those together, like Green goes to find Red to apologize, but he's still kinda mean? But then he apologizes. Like his words still have this edge to them, but he corrects himself because he knows that his attitude isn't helping and that it likely contributed to Red leaving. I like Green making that effort but he's a teenager and he's not perfect, so it goes rocky.

and I like Red being unsure of how he feels about Green. I know another trope is that Red's like forgiving when Green comes to see him, but I really like when Red's angry and is only tolerating Green because he's too nice. But he's not friendly at all. I really like Mt. Silver being this strained period in their lives.

I don't want it to go perfectly, I want it to be messy so that Red and Green have to try and keep trying to fix things between them. I like that conflict.

but yeah! green becomes gym leader and grows from that, grows from working with other people and seeing different perspectives. he sees all these kids who have the same fire in their eyes as he and red did, but he beats them, and he has to deal with telling them why they lost. like they start crying and green's like "…well what the fuck do i do now"

i like green going into that environment and learning more about himself and the world around him. that's a good place for him to grow.

I definitely think Oak and Green have a very strained relationship. I think they can reach a point where they can come to an understaning, but it'll never be a realtionship that lives up to it's potential. Oak ruined that with his strict parenting style and negligence to reward Green with positive reinforcement and room to display his emotions to help develop his emotional maturity. Green needed attentitiveness and love, and he got expectations and pressure. So… it'll never be what it could be. And y'know that's sad, but it's how so many relationships go.

Like that strained, terrible kind of relationship with a family member where you only ever do quick check-ups and nothing deeper happens. They don't know you at all. They have no idea what your favorite color is or what you like to eat, and yknow, they may have no interest in knowing. Very sad. But it happens to many people.

On to happier things, Red's mom def thinks of Green as her own son. She gave him love when he could and probably knew that he had feelings for Red, and she probably regrets not speaking to Green about it since Oak didn't ever talk to him about that stuff. But she loves Green!! and is always there for him and will do anything for him. she wants red and green to get along bc she knows they're good friends. she invites green over when he's a gym leader and talks with him, checks in on him. she's supportive and makes sure he knows that he can come to her.

also love the trope of green feeling guilty around her bc he thinks he drove red away. good stuff.

Uhm!!! I don't think green would hate being a gym leader. i haven't seen that trope too much, but i disagree. He's a trainer that loves good battles, and since he's the last gym before the league, he'd consistently get good battles, so he'd like that. I do think he'd hate aspects of his gym leader job. like having to adhere to guidelines and restrictions when it comes to his own team and the moves they use, having to do paperwork, having to train multiple teams, having to only use a certain amount of pokemon/items, the restrictions he wouldn't like, but green would love being in charge and bossing people around. being a gym leader gives him that status of importance that's tangible. like he has the champion title, but that's all he's got to show for it aside from…being in the hall of fame, but he's been sidelined in that regard. it's still a great thing, but green would like something that he could show off and dress up, too, and being a gym leader allows him that.

this was funnnn!!!! thank you for sending this in.

#ask #anon #sorry this is so long #long post #i like TALKING ABOUT THEM OKAY #GOD

8 notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 3 years

Note

I am writing a story in which a non-Jewish person is mourning their Jewish partner. How can the non-Jewish person respect the culture of their loved one without overstepping or appropriating something that does not belong to them? Due to a lot of extenuating circumstances, the non-Jewish person is unable to participate in mourning with the family of the departed and wants to honor their partner on their own while still respecting their partner's culture. Is there a way for them to do so? Most of the resources I have found address how a Jewish person can mourn a non-Jewish relative but I have struggled to find guidance for the reverse situation. Thank you!

Non-Jewish person mourning Jewish partner

There are various phrases we prefer to have said about us vs. other phrases which are more culturally Christian. Like… the gentile partner would not be using phrases about “they’re with Jesus now,” obviously. Also, “Rest in peace” is more Christian; we prefer BDE (Baruch dayan emet, not big dick energy, although if someone amazing dies I have seen jokes about that coincidence because we certainly love to laugh through tears in this here culture).

Basically don’t Christianize the mourning, unless it’s about the living person (like “Lord Jesus help me with my sadness” -- is that a real thing, lol I have no idea, anyway that’s obviously okay because it’s coming from the other person about themselves not talking about the one who died) but don’t Christianize the way you talk about the dead person bc that would be disrespectful.

--Shira

Mourning rituals and participation

One mourning ritual a non-Jew can do on their own without being appropriative might include placing a pebble on the gravestone of their loved one: this is a practice that is expected at Jewish cemeteries no matter the religion of the visitor, so it’s not awkward for a non-Jew at all. I know lots of rabbis who have guided non-Jewish family members through participating with Jewish family members in the Jewish rituals that take place shortly after a death, but if your character is not able to be with their loved one’s Jewish family for the funeral or during the seven days following, it would not be appropriate to sit shiva on their own without Jewish participation.

On the other hand, another thing they could do is get involved with the Jewish family later: for the year following the death of an immediate relative (parent, sibling, child, or spouse), a Jewish person recites the Kaddish prayer daily (or weekly, depending on the community they belong to), so it’s fully reasonable for your character to show up and stand beside them while they recite it; that’s also a way for your character to be recognized by the community the Jewish family member prays with as being also a mourner, and so to receive the social support from that Jewish community without overstepping. Kaddish is also recited on the yahrzeit (the anniversary of the death on the Jewish calendar), so if your character has a strained relationship with their partner’s Jewish family, it could be a dramatic moment for them to stand lonely at the back of the synagogue and hear their loved one’s father recite the kaddish every year, and if they have a loving and supportive relationship it could be a moment of bonding every year when no matter where their lives have taken them they meet each year for your character to hear their loved one’s Jewish family say kaddish for them.

- Meir

It’s a real shame that your mourner character can’t make it for the levayah and shiva, and I’m kind of curious as to what could be more important at that moment.

If there’s really no way they can make it, I do like the idea of them carrying out some shiva customs – as Meir says, not a whole service without Jewish participation, but specific things like

ripping an item of clothing

or sitting on the floor/a less comfortable chair

I think there’s potential there to really explore the messiness of grief through your character’s pursuit of traditions that are not their own.

What were they trying to feel by doing these actions, and what did they end up feeling?

Maybe they enjoyed partaking in Jewish customs with their partner before, so they rip a shirt trying to feel their presence again – but it just ends up feeling awkward and unnatural, like everything else when you’re grieving.

Or maybe they’ve been feeling guilty about how assimilated their partner had become while being with them, and they’re trying to relieve that guilt by showing enthusiasm for their partner’s culture – but they just end up feeling more guilty because it’s appropriative or it’s too little, too late?

This could be very realistic, while using the Jewish character’s culture to bring out that realism, which is a good thing.

The Jewish family and acceptance of their partner

The idea of attending synagogue to hear Kaddish is one I wanted to circle back to, because it highlights something that I don’t think you can avoid:

how do the Jewish family and community feel about the choice of partner?

Is your character comfortable walking into the synagogue?

Are they accepted?

As Meir touched upon, is their relationship with their partner’s family strained or supportive?

Jewish reactions to choices other than marrying within the faith are so varied that there’s no right way to portray this – but there are a couple of wrong ways.

If the other Jewish characters beside your mourner’s partner are extremely intolerant, judgemental and unwelcoming: this is of course insulting and cliché. Even more so if they’re written with no attempt to humanise them or show the thoughts and feelings behind these actions, or if their intolerance drives some of the conflict in the story.

Similarly, if everyone is totally cool with this and has zero misgivings: in my opinion you would end up with the same cliché. Sure, there are Jewish families who don’t mind whether their relatives marry in or do something else, but if all the characters feel this way, it would erase some of the complexity of Jewish life. Because there are also families who care deeply enough that they relocate their children to more Jewish areas just to ensure they marry in, when they’re still 10 or 20 years too young to get married. There are families who think they’re assimilated and don’t care, but are perplexed by their seemingly irrational feelings of grief when faced with a child marrying out. This is A Thing for us. To have 100% of your characters make it Not A Thing, would be like saying that is the ‘right’ way for Jews to be, and we’ll just ignore all the Jews who don’t feel this way, because they’re obviously wrong and only there to be the conflict in other people’s stories.

Mourning, like most things, is communal in Jewish life, which is why I don’t think you can avoid this. The family and the community will show up throughout the grieving process, and they will likely Have Opinions. It’s your decision as the author what those opinions are, but it’s something to handle with thought and sensitivity.

- Shoshi

Ask published Oct 2021

#Jewish #Death #Jewish culture #culture #traditions #Kaddish #Shiva #levayah #asks

529 notes · View notes

ellsbclls · 3 years

Note

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

210 notes · View notes

ohnococo · 3 years

Text

A Mess | Zeke x F!Reader x Reiner

Summary: You and Zeke sleep together from time to time, even though he knows Reiner has a thing for you. Eventually he decides to do something about it. (MODERN AU)

Warnings: Sleazy Zeke, Sex, Cumshots, Threesome, FWB

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Zeke had this innate ability to just make things messy in a way that favored him perfectly. He’d done it with you - starting out as friends with benefits and progressing that into something a little more shameless that had your whole friend group seeming a little tense about you two potentially dating, knowing none of Zeke’s trysts lasted long. He was doing it again now, albeit this one had been a much slower build up. He’d been stoking this fire from before the two of you had even begun fucking, in fact.

He saw the way Reiner always looked at you, the schoolboy crush he’d harbored from way back when he was, well, an actual schoolboy. Except now he was very much a grown man and was very much still squandering every opportunity he’d had to get with you.

Zeke knew what Reiner was like, what reservations and morals the younger man had that he certainly did not share. When Zeke had finally made the move to kiss you in front of your friends - or rather next to them while you were all on the couch during a movie - Reiner hadn’t been pushed into action. No pulling you aside for a sudden confession of love, or plea to give him a chance. Instead, Reiner seemed to decide that instead of it being now, it was going to be never. The idea of two long-time friends of a close knit group dating was already a bit awkward for everyone, you all were never the type for love triangles and unnecessary drama, there was no way Reiner would add an attempt to date you to that awkwardness. A girl dating one of her old guy friends is one thing, romantic even if it all works out, but a girl dating two - meaning most - of her guy friends leaves a bad impression. That’s what Zeke figured Reiner had reasoned, at least.

Messy bitch that he is though, Zeke decided to test Reiner’s resolve at being the noble martyr, tortured by his unrequited love that was all his own doing. Maybe he would lighten up a bit more too. So Zeke did small things to set the wheels in motion, making plans with the two of you to play a board game or watch a show then finding some excuse to leave suddenly half way through. Pretending to be much more drunk than he is while setting you on Reiner’s lap at a party, exaggeratedly slurring out, “Keep an eye on her while I go piss. She’s a wily one.”

Through it all Reiner was respectful as ever: hands to himself except for sliding you off his lap to take his seat while he stood and waited for Zeke to return, never even entertaining making a move on you. It drove Zeke up a fucking wall, especially when Reiner would end the nights he’d been stranded at your house (while Zeke feigned some sudden need to pick up Eren and drop him off at his dorm) with a text to Zeke at a nauseatingly sensible 9:30.

Reiner: Hey just got home. hope Eren’s didn’t puke in your car again lol

Reiner was big, Reiner was beefy, and Reiner was a fucking coward. Zeke didn’t know why he cared so much. Maybe because he was always trying to show his friends he was better than them in some way or another and Reiner had just taken it on the chin. Maybe it was because he felt a little bad for fucking around with someone who had been a dear friend, he didn’t intend for this to go anywhere after all, and Reiner did really like you. Zeke would never admit it if it was indeed the second one, though, so he just decided to get messier.

It was easy enough with the three of you being the only ones in the group to have the shared interest of board games. So he invited you both over to his place to try out a new game he’d gotten. You and Reiner chalked up Zeke’s smug demeanor to him showing off another overly-complicated board game he’d surely win despite playing it for the first time. Really, it was the undeniable feeling that tonight would be fun keeping Zeke in such high spirits.

One game in - that Zeke won of course - and he’d already managed to coax Reiner into drinking. Just a beer to start the game, then one more to keep it going. He wasn’t getting wasted by any means, not a man his size, but Zeke knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have a third beer and drive. So while Reiner set the board up to start again, Zeke gave him another beer, clearing the table of old drinks and setting the new one down casually enough that his friend wasn’t even thinking about how he’d get home after finishing off the new drink.

The game went by, Reiner went through another bottle, and as Zeke was satisfied with winning again he decided to bring this part of the evening to a close.

“I’ve had enough of winning for tonight. The two of you will have to have a 1v1 on your own sometime to catch up with me.” Zeke teased, packing away the little pieces.

Reiner is quick to respond, “Pretty cocky for a guy who still can’t win at Sorry.”

Zeke takes the bait, only because he wants Reiner feeling confident for later. “Only because that game is pure luck.”

“Sure it is.” Reiner stands and stretches, grabbing his bottle to put with Zeke’s recycling. “Anyway, I should head out now, it’s getting late.”

“Not after four beers you shouldn’t.” You warn, Zeke can’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turn up, you did always pay awfully close attention to Reiner, didn’t you?

“Shit, you’re right - mind if I stay in your guest bedroom?”

Zeke shrugs, no stranger to having one of his friends crashing at his house, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.”

Zeke is quick to get you alone, and you only half push him away as he begins kissing at the spot on your neck that has heat building in your stomach as soon as you’re both in his bedroom. He’d made sure to leave his door cracked, and made sure to pick you up and lie you down on the bed before you noticed. As you sigh at his touch he decides he’s waited long enough for the main event, pulling your pants and underwear off in one rough motion and burying his face between your legs.

“Zeke, stop it.” He knows your protests are hollow, your hands coming down to tangle in his hair rather than push him away. His tongue works its way gently but purposefully through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit before working his way back to tease at your entrance. Your moan is only half out before you’re clasping your hands over your mouth, looking down at him and laughing. “At least wait until Reiner’s asleep.”

He smirks up at you and makes a deal, knowing you don’t understand the full extent of it and know he won’t be losing anyway. “If he’s not asleep in ten minutes, that’s his problem.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip, but as he locks his lips around your clit you’re not really in a position to protest as you rock your hips up against his face.

Zeke goes easy on you, sort of, he refrains from sliding his fingers in your tight little hole while he laps at your swollen clit - and he at least listens when you ask him to slow down for a second, giving you the chance to catch your breath and keep yourself from getting to the point where you can’t control the noises you make, but you were still getting steadily louder. The ten minutes go by slowly for the both of you, as Zeke teases at your most sensitive spots, until you’re glistening beneath him. His wait is over as he kisses his way up your body, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes until his lips meet yours.

“It’s time.”

You’re too far gone to pick up that hint of something else in Zeke’s voice as he flips you over so you’re on your stomach facing the door and he’s quickly in place behind you, pulling you onto all fours. You’re too ready for his cock to pay attention to how loud his soft slap on your ass is before he pulls off his pants and rifles through his bedside drawer for a condom. You turn your head to watch him as he slides it on, arching your back so he can get an eyeful of your awaiting pussy. He’s not feeling gentle or merciful tonight, and that doesn’t seem to be what you want anyway as you groan at the feel of his cock stretching you wide as he enters and bottoms out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Zeke knows you’re holding back though, doing your very best to stifle the noises he’s forcing from you as his cock slides against your walls just right, and that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, hard, and you keen before getting a hold of yourself to send him a look of warning over your shoulder.

“You think Reiner’s still awake to listen to how good you sound when I fuck you?” You tighten around him, pussy fluttering at the thought, and that gives Zeke the final push to do just what he’d intended. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s no time to think about the implications of his question, as Zeke wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up so your back is pressed to his chest as he sets a brutal pace.

“Reiner!” Zeke’s voice booms, and this time when you’re pussy clenches around him he knows it’s not just due to the pleasure coursing through you. “Reiner, come here!”

“Zeke-”

“Shh…” He brings the hand that was previously gripping your hip tightly up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips, “He knows what we’re doing. If he doesn’t want to see it he’ll stay in bed.”

You’re blushing, equal measures embarrassed and aroused, and the wait only makes your heart beat faster. A few moments of what was no doubt tortuous conflict passes and you hear the door to the room next to Zeke’s open slowly, followed by another long moment before Zeke’s door is pushed open fully.

“See, I knew you weren’t that much of a coward, Reiner.” Zeke’s voice is straining from how hard he’s fucking you, and how excited he is to have his plan come perfectly together as Reiner locks eyes with you.

He looks you over slowly as none of you speak, watching your tits bounce as you take Zeke, swallowing hard at the sight of your slick dripping down your thighs, ears ringing at the sound of skin on sin. He’s already hard and tenting his boxer briefs, hair already disheveled from tossing and turning in bed as he listened to you try and fail to stay silent. Zeke is happy to let him watch, but he decides he wants him to do something more than just stand there like a lost dog.

“Well?” Reiner is snapped from his daze and looks at Zeke as if he’d only thought about him being there. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Reiner looks at you, and your soft cry of his name thrusts him into motion as he comes to join the two of you on the bed. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you and drinking in your moans as your pussy flutters around Zeke’s cock. Reiner is soft, so soft compared to how hard you’re being fucked, but intense as he groans into your mouth and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away to breathe, but only for a moment before he’s working his way to your neck to leave all the marks he’d dreamt of gifting you with for years. His hands are quick to find your clit, rubbing soft circles as Zeke continues to work at you from inside, and your hands quickly reach for his cock in turn.

“So big…” you sigh, savoring the feeling of running your hands over his thick cock through his underwear, before pushing them down as far as you can reach with Zeke pulling you into his thrusts. Thankfully, it’s far enough to free Reiner’s cock and you shiver in Zeke’s grasp as it rubs against your stomach while Reiner presses his body to yours. You barely have your fingers wrapped around him before he’s thrusting up into your hand, already groaning, already close - you wonder for a moment if he’d already been touching himself to the sounds of you.

Zeke would guess yes, and can’t help getting his sly little digs in even as the two of you do exactly as he’d intended, “Close already? Good thing I’m here to satisfy her.”

Reiner doesn’t take that easily, working your clit faster and the way your pussy grips Zeke has him hurling closer to the edge right along with you both. Reiner breathes his words into your skin, sending shivers through you again and again, “Cum for me… cum with me…”

You do, and both of your work against each other stutters as you cum together, Reiner painting your stomach as your pussy threatens to undo Zeke right along with you. He holds on, however, fucking you through your orgasm as Reiner thrusts into your hand until the last of his cum is covering your soft skin and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

Zeke pulls out and releases you, sending you forward and into Reiner’s waiting arms as he pulls off his condom and finishes himself off on your ass, adding his mess to the mix as well. Reiner keeps kissing you, rubbing your back, smiling at the way you shiver when Zeke begins rubbing his cum into your skin.

“That was…” Reiner starts, then stops, looking into your eyes and trying to parse what just happened.

Zeke doesn’t want to give him too much time to think, knowing that just leads to more annoyance with Reiner, so instead he lies down, pulling you with him. “The bed’s big enough for three.”

Reiner pauses, still thinking instead of doing, until you’re patting the space on the bed next to you. “C’mon, Reiner, lets get some rest.”

For you, he’ll listen to anything, something Zeke huffs at as you rest your head on his shoulder, and your hand on Reiner’s chest. You’re first to fall asleep, and Reiner lies there staring at you dreamily, finally basking in the moment for once. Then, it’s Zeke’s turn to think, and think too much as he considers just what he might have started. He wasn’t sure what he felt, not quite jealousy… but not victory either. He felt smug, but also like he’d gotten himself in over his head. Maybe he wanted Reiner here for different reasons than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wanted you for different reasons than he’d originally thought too. Zeke closes his eyes and decides everyone’s had enough thinking for the day, deciding to sleep before he dwelled too long on the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

#aot smut #not sfw #my writing #milestone 100 #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #zeke x reiner x reader #zeke x reader x reiner #reiner x zeke x reader #reiner x reader x zeke #reiner #zeke

518 notes · View notes

quirkfics · 3 years

Text

eager | gang orca

wordcount: 1569 warnings: smut, established relationship, belly bulge, penetrative sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral (just, lemon the whole way through) pairing: Gang Orca/Kugo Sakamata x Gender neutral reader note: Old but new fic! Written for the After Hours patreon way back when, with a very minor amount of sprucing up. I was.. tempted to wait til May to post it, because of MerMay stuff, but it’s been sitting almost done in here for a while. Enjoy!

Being able to work yourself open, to leave yourself messy and slick with lube has always been a prerequisite when it comes to fucking Kugo. His fingers are lovely, with the way his nails prick your skin, or how they curl behind your neck to pull you close, but they're far too sharp for tender places. Kugo's mouth is infinitely better, and the soft roll of his tongue against your most intimate parts? The thought never fails to leave you aching for want of him. Yet, to use his mouth, you both have to be patient, steady and slow. You've suffered more than one sharp knick from his razor-fine teeth, and you're not interested in taking that much time or holding that still. Not tonight.

“Deeper,” Kugo says, voice so low and rough that you have to pause and take a breath, hand trembling, before you push your fingers into yourself as far as you possibly can. The noise it makes is obscene, and it's more than enough to have Kugo frozen in the midst of unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Back in,” he rasps, as soon as you attempt to pull your fingers out. “Hold still for a moment,” he adds and you have to clench around your own fingers, eyes fluttering momentarily closed. Kugo turns his attention back to divesting himself of clothes, moving to set each item carefully over the back of a clean chair.

The position you're in has your thighs trembling, and you must make some kind of low, desperate noise, because he glances at you over his shoulder. “All the way out, and in again,” he allows, eyes bright, and you follow his directions, breathing out slowly as you stretch yourself. He goes quiet again, angled so he can just barely see you.

“Kugo?” You ask after a moment, watching him curl those sharp fingers around the chair back. His shoulders roll, and his biceps flex, before he finally let's go of the chair. He turns back to face you, cock thick and heavy between his thighs. The sight has you closing your eyes for a moment, and a choked moan escapes your lips as he crosses the room. “Please?” You gasp, when he comes to a stop at the end of the bed.

“You're always so eager for it,” he murmurs, reaching down to take himself in hand. You breathe out a curse, thighs quivering while you watch that dark, sharp fingered hand stroke roughly over his shaft. He walks around the edge of the bed, eyes zeroed in on your panting mouth. “You can never wait to have me inside you.” You don't even attempt to deny it. The thought of that thick cock in your mouth, or of him thrusting up into the heat of you, has you absolutely salivating for it. Your teeth catch on your bottom lip, and you curl your fingers, lube squelching with the motion.

“Please, Kugo, I want you to fuck me. Want your cock. I wan—” a moan strangles your voice in your throat when Kugo reaches out, sharp nails terribly gentle on your scalp. He urges you closer to the edge of the bed, patient as you adjust yourself so you can reach him, fingers still slippery inside you.

“Open your mouth,” he demands. Your lips part without hesitation, and then Kugo is guiding you towards his cock with a soft pressure against the crown of your head. He lifts himself, fingers curled around the dark length of it, stroking up to where the shaft fades into white, and the flush of palest pink. Kugo presses his cock head against your tongue, and groans when your lips close around him. He's too big for much more of him to fit in your mouth, but it's always fun to try. You suck, rolling your tongue against the smooth skin, making soft, impatient noises when he curses. “Look at that mouth of yours,” he growls, squeezing the base of his cock, rocking it gently out, brushing it against your teeth and lips, before he pushes back in. He continues the motion, jaw slowly dropping as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth, his sharp teeth gleaming in the half light. You hum softly, eyes fluttering closed, and simply lose yourself in the sensation of him, slick skin sliding over your lips. There's a small pulse against your tongue—he's getting harder—and then Kugo is pulling away. The motion is too fast, leaving you messy with saliva, drips of it on your chin, and before you can even think to wipe it away, Kugo is pushing you back onto the bed. You go without a fight.

“Will you—” You start, but Kugo shushes you, a single finger pressed to your mouth for maybe a second, before he starts to pull away. The curl of his nail catches against your bottom lip though, and you can't resist flicking your tongue out to taste. He chuckles, and reaches down to gently tug at your wrist, silently urging you to pull your fingers out of yourself.

“You'll get what you want,” he assures you, voice deep and steady—and then he's breathing in sharply, watching your fingers come out messy and dripping. The sudden emptiness leaves you aching, but Kugo's careful hands are stroking up your thighs, parting them as he kneels on the bed. You wriggle, even though you know you won't be left wanting.

He starts off slow, taking your slick hand and curling it around his cock, putting the remnants of lube to good use. The feel of him, wonderfully hot and heavy, curving in your hand, makes you even more eager than before.

“Please, Kugo?” You ask, squeezing, angling the hard length of him towards what you really want. “I've been waiting, I've been good—oh, fuck. Fu-” The soft rub of his cock against you has you trembling, legs spreading even further, and then he pushes, and all you want to do is arch your hips, urge him to go faster, but-

“You're always good for me,” he rasps, slowly working himself inside you, in and out, and further in, on every thrust. You lay back, biting at your bottom lip, fisting your hands in the sheets near your head to keep yourself from interrupting. Kugo is slow and steady, pushing until you're gasping, his hands sliding up your thighs and then curling around your hips, anchoring you. You feel almost too full now, and still, he can't fit all of himself inside you. “So good, so-” He rolls his hips, and his eyes fall closed when he bottoms out, nails pricking into your skin. Kugo stops, just taking a moment to breathe, and you know he’s giving you time to adjust to his girth, but you just want more. More movement, more noise, as much of him as he’s willing to give, filling you up, over and—your brain short circuits, desire overriding any attempt to plan things out.

“Fuck me,” you plead, breath leaving you in a rush as you lift your hips. Your abdomen bulges slightly, too full, and then, finally, Kugo is moving. He leans over you, hands sliding up your body until he’s tweaking your nipple with one hand and bracing himself on his other forearm.

“No please?” He asks, voice low and strained, but teasing. If the light were better, you’re sure you would spy a smile in his eyes. Instead you’re hyper focused on the feeling of his cock almost slipping out of you as he pulls back, and then, with one swift thrust, he’s back inside, and you can’t stop talking.

“Yes, yes, please, all of it. Give me, give-” You grunt, eyes falling closed as he starts rocking into you steadily, just a little faster than before. “Want all of you, just, Kugo!” He’s gentle, careful, even while he fucks you, and the sharpness of his teeth against your shoulder has your arousal spiking. You let go of the sheets, sliding one of your hands up the side of his face, reaching towards his dorsal fin and scream when he bottoms out inside you again, teeth pressing harder into your skin. “Kugo, Kugo, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck!”

He doesn’t let up, hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he fucks you through orgasm. There’s a harsh groan against your shoulder, his wide tongue laving over the marks he’s left, and then Kugo is pulling back, just enough to see your face, bracing himself on both forearms. “I couldn’t wait to watch—watch you fall apart,” he rasps, and maybe you’re oversensitive, with your legs still shaking, but everything, his cock inside you, the press of his body ; it feels hotter. Blistering. “I’ve been able to think of little else,” he adds, and then his pace skips. His hips stutter, thrusts becoming choppy, and then you’re full again, gasping and messy as he comes inside you, sharp fingers curling into the sheets. Kugo is moaning, forehead pressed to yours, and one more sharp thrust has you cursing, and then laughing, soft and pleased, when he slumps onto you with a sigh. “Something amusing?” He asks, but he sounds like you, content, relaxed.

“Happy,” you murmur, pressing a small kiss to his nose. “Potentially looking forward to another round. After cleanup?” Kugo pulls back, looking down at the mess he’s made of you with a pleased expression.

“Most definitely.”

#gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #sakamata kugo x reader #kuugo sakamata x reader #lemon

297 notes · View notes

chokemeanakin · 3 years

Note

I dont know if you are taking requests but if you are, could you please write something where reader has trouble masturbating, every time she tries she just CANT, so anakin (theyre just friends but they always had lots of sexual tension) helps her out and does it for her so she cums for the first time. THANK YOU!!!

A Dream Come True - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 5.4k

A low warmth is rising in your belly, pulled from the depths by your wandering fingers. They’re working against your clit, rubbing it side to side, faster and hard, trying so desperately to remain in that warm haze of pleasure you’ve spent so long building up. It feels good, but you need more.

The many late nights spent with your girlfriends cross your mind, and how you would sit by idly during each one as they discussed their own personal affairs in the bedroom. You were the least experienced, but listened in awe as they told you the latest on what their partners have done to surprise them in bed. How they made them scream and shake, their eyes roll back into their head, and cum all over until they couldn’t take anymore.

You were too embarrassed to admit you’d never felt that way before. You thought you were broken.

Which is why you’re here, fingers glued to your hard nub, rubbing furiously to try and get yourself to feel something. You do feel something, but it’s not earth-shattering, leg-shaking, eye-rolling like your friends had described. Frustration fuels your movements as you attack your clit, holding your breath, forcing the warmth to build and build and build--

Nothing.

Your arm aches with the strain as you halt your movements, chest heaving when you allow yourself to breathe. Self-pity outweighs your disappointment as the subtle warmth dissipates, any pleasure that you had given yourself slipping away.

Broken, a small voice whispers inside your head. There’s something wrong with you.

What other reasoning could there be to explain why you can’t feel good?

Maybe, you argue, there needs to be something inside. That was always a big topic of discussion with your friends, how they “loved being filled.” Gathering your wits, you move your finger down, exploring your folds until you find your opening. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push a finger in, wincing at the sudden intrusion.

It stings more than anything, but you’re desperate so you decide to give it a chance. You’ve tried this before, and it’s never felt like anything more than a finger inside of you-- which is exactly what it is. And now, this situation proves to be the same. You feel around, hoping to find that spot everyone raves about, but your fingers are too short and the angle is weird. You push your finger in and out like how you think you’re supposed to, and it feels like nothing.

Maybe you need two?

You let another finger join the one that’s already inside, struggling to get it in.

Ow, you wince as your body rejects the intrusion. Your heartbeat picks up, a sudden anxiety joining the whirlwind of exasperation and discontent that has come from this situation. Is it supposed to hurt this much? The remnants of the need to satisfy yourself are still present, so you try again.

Making it back to your apartment had been a relief this evening, as all day you had been battling a relentless urge down below. You’re not too proud to admit that your… situation… had been a direct result of spending the day with Anakin, a good friend of yours who needed help finding a data entry in the corner of the Temple library. The entry supposedly had something to do with a cloaking mechanism for battleships, and when you had asked why he needed it when the Republic already had cloaking mechanisms, he mentioned that he was trying to translate the same technique to his own personal starship. No battlecraft as small as his has that ability, and with a ship as fast as his, it would give him a huge advantage on the battlefield.

You could listen to him talk about it all day.

You virtually had, as the data entry was just one small piece of paper-- a piece of scrap blueprint scrawled on a fragile, worried edge of some larger text, worn with time. You spent hours searching all over for it. Once you had finally dug it out of a dusty box in the deepest corner of the library, Anakin had lifted you into the air effortlessly, swinging you around as he hugged you and laughed.

You had walked home with a damp spot in your underwear, an undeniable throb that needed to be relieved.

He had no idea. No idea that his hands shot sparks up your spine as they closed around your waist. That his laugh turned your blood to lava, and his beautiful, smiling face made your heart skip a beat. He had no idea that he is the cause of your desperation, the reason you are torturing yourself by dangling an unknown pleasure before your face, knowing you can’t have it.

You manage to sink your second finger in a little, but the sting is too much, and you have to pull them both out.

Broken.

The door to your apartment suddenly swings open, and you throw your sheets over your bare legs in a panic. Your eyes find the clock next to your bed-- Shit. You’d lost track of the time.

The sound of those boots are unmistakable, and you find that praying you’re wrong is pointless when he calls out your name.

“Y/n--?” Anakin rounds the corner to peer into your room, features lighting up when he finally finds you. Curious eyes roam over your figure, wondering why you’re in bed when it was barely evening. “Are you feeling okay?”

Your cheeks flame with heat, and you can’t find the words to explain yourself out of this situation. Mentally, you’re beating yourself up for losing track of time, especially since you knew Anakin was coming over tonight. While searching for the data log, you mentioned you had always wanted to try his favorite childhood drink-- ruby bliels-- and he promised he’d treat you tonight after you found the blueprint. It was his thank you gift to you, but now you needed to find a way to get him out of your apartment before he realized what was going on.

Your mouth hangs open like a gaping fish, and you know it’s too late. Anakin’s brain is as fast as his superhuman reflexes, and you can see the gears click into place as his eyes flit from your red cheeks, to the messy covers strewn over your legs, to the crumpled panties lying discarded on the floor. Your hand is even still frozen between your legs, your activities becoming clear as he senses the remnants of pleasure and disappointment still hanging around the room.

“Oh…” is all he says, looking lost for a moment. You expect him to apologize and turn away, run out of the apartment and then never speak to you again. You wouldn’t blame him. Finding a friend in this position can never be a comfortable experience.

Instead a slow smirk crawls onto his face, and he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need some help with that?”

You should have known. The smug little bastard-- of course he’d find this amusing. Your face grows impossibly redder, and you wish a black hole would just open beneath you already and swallow you up. Anakin finds your humiliation endearing, and laughs good-naturedly.

“Alright, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it,” he slinks out of the doorway, crooking his finger in the air to close the door after him. “I’ll be in the kitchen setting up for the bliels when you’re done--”

“Wait!”

You’re just as shocked as he is at the words that leave your mouth. He freezes in place, the door still open a crack. There’s too many thoughts running through your head right now, but the one that stands out the most has you pulling your hand away from your center, sitting up in bed so you can address him clearly.

You never thought you’d be able to speak these words to him. For so long, you had wanted him in every way possible. But he’s a Jedi, unable to form attachments, and more than that-- a friend. A very good friend. And breaching the topic that you know you both feel for each other had the potential to ruin it all.

But the minute he had opened that door, still dressed in that black leather armor, hair perfectly curled and messy, so tall and strong and devilishly handsome leaning against your doorframe-- he was beautiful, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of his offering. Even if it might have been a joke.

You had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t.

“I… I do need help.”

There. You said it. And you’re pretty certain the only reason you could force the words past your lips is because his back is still facing you. But then he opens the door again, turns to meet your eyes, and cocks his head.

“Really?”

You’re not sure how to feel about the concern on his face. You guess it’s better than him being disgusted, or awkward, or uncomfortable. And it’s not an outright rejection. That realization gives you the push you need to explain yourself.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Now he looks concerned. Walking a few steps into the room, he stops by the edge of your bed and folds his arms across his chest. He’s studying every inch of you, reaching into the force to try and gauge the nature of your words. “What do you mean?”

He’s standing so close now, you can see the blue of his eyes and the wrinkle between his furrowed brows. It does nothing to calm your sizzling nerves. However, you’re concrete on your desires now. While you would have liked to confess your feelings for him in a more… romantic way, the intensity of your need for him in this very moment overshadows rational thought. Besides, it’s not like this is a declaration of love. That could always come later. For right now, you need his help, and you’re certain that you can trust him not to make fun of you or shame you for trying in if he declines.

“I can’t…” you take a deep breath, staring at your hands in your lap. “I can’t make myself feel good.”

Your voice is so quiet, embarrassed and ashamed, but he catches the yearning under it all. His face smooths, comforted by the fact that you’re not injured or dying in some way. Deep down, something sparks alive in his veins.

That’s the issue? Well… it’s definitely something he can help you with.

“Hmm.” His face is thoughtful as he scans your position. His hand gestures vaguely down your body. “Do you want to show me what you’re doing?”

Your blood freezes at his request. For some reason, it didn’t cross your mind how asking for his help would require him to see you… naked.

“If you’re too embarrassed, we can just--”

You cut off his words by throwing the blanket off. There, like ripping off a bandaid. His eyes drink in the exposed skin of your legs, and although they’re closed and he can’t be seeing much more than he’s already seen before, they darken. A small twitch of his fingers, and the door clicks shut behind him.

He takes a seat on the side of the bed, next to your legs, and rests his metal hand on your knee. Your heart beats like a hummingbird's wings at the sudden proximity, and the nerves pile up again at the thought of what’s going to happen.

“Wait-- um… actually, can you come here?”

You reach out to take his metal hand from your knee, and pull him up the bed so that he’s hovering over you. He’s still sitting, the upper half of his body twisted toward you, caging you in with a hand on either side of you. He’s smiling softly, and his eyes twinkle with something fond.

He doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re nervous. The rigidity in your muscles, the flightyness of your eyes, the hammer of your heart-- he can feel it all, and he wants nothing more than to quell your fears. So he lifts an arm to cup your face in his large hand, smoothing a thumb over your cheekbone in a silent request for you to look at him.

Once you muster up the courage to meet his eyes, his smile grows, and he says something that steals your breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh, how long you’ve wanted him to say those words to you. Countless nights, you’d run them through your head, imagining all the scenarios in which it could happen. Certainly, this was not one of them, but you definitely aren’t going to complain.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you give him a nod, and lean forward a fraction in invitation. Your veins sing with anticipation, warmth spreading from your cheeks to every small nook and cranny of your body as he angles your face up toward his. Your eyes flutter close, and he leans down, and--

Bliss.

His lips are warm against yours, soft, applying the gentlest of pressures. You always thought he’d be a good kisser-- he was experienced, and he’d hinted at some of his more scandalous escapades a couple times in passing conversation. You’d asked him before, how he could do that when Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments, which resulted in him going into a full lecture on how non-attachment didn’t translate to abstinence being “The Jedi Way”, even if it was supported within the Order. Really, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, until he fell on the defensive position that he was almost certain Obi-Wan had done stuff as well.

Which-- great. Now you realized you were less experienced than even two Jedi.

These thoughts are snuffed out like candles, one by one, as Anakin kisses you. In fact, your whole mind goes blank, a wave washing over all of your worries away and dragging them out to sea. You’re drifting on that wave, drowning in the heady feel of him, the warm taste of him. His slow inhale reminds you to breathe as he moves his lips against yours languidly. It’s heaven, the way he’s yours for just this moment. He might not think anything of this kiss, but to you, it’s like your deepest fantasies are coming true. With each moment that passes where he tilts his head and closes his lips over yours, you can pretend that he is yours, completely and unconditionally.

Eventually he pulls back, eyes fluttering open, and you realize you’re still lost at sea.

“Good?” his voice is low and raspy as his gaze bores into yours. You wonder if he knows how intense his eyes can be sometimes.

“Yes.”

He presses another quick kiss to your lips, your heart spasming at the act, before he trails kisses down your jaw, tasting the skin of your neck. Your breath picks up again, hands finding his curls as you gasp at the feeling. His teeth skim over the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he presses a kiss to your throbbing pulse. He means for the kisses to be distracting, soothing, so that you’ll be more comfortable with him, and he thinks it’s working until a faint moan leaves your mouth.

So it’s really working.

Anakin’s eyes flick up to yours, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. Embarrassment crashes down on you again but Anakin repeats the motion, nipping at your skin and then smoothing his tongue over the mark, sucking gently to try to elicit another reaction. You gift him one against your will, and suddenly he’s got lava pouring into his veins.

You’re so lost in the feeling of his mouth on you that you don’t even realize his warm hand has travelled from your face, down the middle of your body, gripping onto the pliant flesh of your thigh and pulling you toward him. You let him, rolling your body into him to try and relieve that reappearing ache in your center.

It’s the same feeling that had built up all day, and it’s returned with a vengeance. You can feel the wetness seep out, slicking your thighs up. Your clit throbs and your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for something to satisfy the ache. You rub your thighs together to help, but Anakin slides a hand to the inside of your thigh and coaxes your legs apart. Any embarrassment you felt before has been beat out by a yearning for his touch, the need to have his fingers on you, inside you--

“Show me how you’ve been doing it,” Anakin mumbles into your neck.

You open your eyes, pulled up from the haze of pleasure he’d submerged you in. Your hand only shakes slightly as you release his hair and bring it back to your skin. He pulls back a few inches to watch, the heat of his body so close to yours causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body.

His eyes hone in on your hand, following its descent to your warm center. You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone is seeing you like this, but now your veins sing with a satisfied realization that he’s the one seeing you like this. He’s the only one who ever has. And he seems to like what he’s seeing.

You don’t miss the way he inhales, the way his teeth capture a sliver of his bottom lip as your fingers finally reach your heat. You begin to do what you’ve always done-- rub your fingers back and forth over your nub, working that pleasure from it.

It feels good, different than what it felt like when you were alone. You’re sure his eyes on you, the proximity, his mere presence has something to do with that. You can still taste him on your lips and you close your eyes, licking them to relive the kiss. You focus on the warmth of his body, the dip of the bed where his arm is planted beside you, the weight of his other hand still holding your thigh open, the scent of his black leather and spice of his shampoo. It definitely feels better when he’s here, the knowledge of him watching adding to your excitement.

But still, you can only build yourself up to a certain point. The pleasure plateaus, and soon you begin to feel awkward at the fact that nothing is happening. It’s not enough to make you moan, or move, or show any reaction really. Your hand stills, and you look at him uncertainly.

Anakin blinks and brings his eyes back up. “Have you tried fingering yourself?”

You almost choke. You’re not sure why his blunt nature surprises you anymore.

He’s looking at you curiously, completely serious, waiting for an answer. So you clear your throat and slide your finger down to your entrance, pushing in.

It goes in easier than before, and there’s no sting. But you don’t even have to move to know you’re literally going to get nothing out of it, and trying is useless.

“This is what I’m talking about,” you tell him. “It doesn’t feel like anything. And when I try two, it hurts. I think I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he frowns, smoothing your hair away from your forehead and replacing it with a kiss. Your heart melts at the action that you’re sure is meant to be comforting, but only deepens your adoration of him. He sits up and you immediately miss him, although you understand he needs a better angle as he slides his hand from your thigh to the top of your pelvis. He hesitates, questioning. “Can I?”

You pull your finger out and push yourself up onto your forearms, nodding for him to go ahead.

His touch is light as a feather as his fingertips make contact with your swollen nub. Your breath hitches in your chest, thighs immediately opening wider on their own accord to get him to increase the pressure. He watches your face as he fulfills your silent request, massaging your clit in slow, gentle circles.

Fireworks are exploding behind your eyes, and you melt into a puddle on the bed. He’s barely even touching you, and somehow it already feels so much better than anything you’ve done to yourself. Quiet whimpers fall from your lips and the sounds make him need a steadying breath, reminding himself to go slow. Obviously, no one has ever touched you before, and he doesn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

The sight of your head tilted back, teeth biting at your lips to quiet your sounds, fingers clutching at the bedsheets-- a very sudden, very real desire to absolutely ruin you slams into him.

But no. That can come later.

He brings his metal hand up to your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip and pulling it from your teeth. “You don’t have to be quiet with me,” he tells you, the ministrations on your clit with his other hand never ceasing. Instead, he picks up the pace, increasing the pressure, drinking in the sight of your hips moving against his fingers.

You’re absolutely drenched, dripping down your thighs and puddling onto the bedsheets. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before, or felt this good before, and the warmth you’ve always felt is transforming into a ball of heat in your stomach. You hone into the feeling, the heat pulsing with each pass of his fingers, each wet slide of him against you--

“You have to breathe, Y/n,” Anakin chuckles, slowing his touch. You gasp in a deep breath, whining at the loss of friction, but he appeases you by slipping his fingers from your clit to your entrance. He doesn’t push in-- instead he circles his finger around it, collecting your slick, reading your every response.

“Please, can you…” you buck your hips up, but he doesn’t allow his finger to slide in until you finish your sentence. “Can you put it in?”

He can’t keep the tiny, darkly satisfied smile off his face. He’s always had fantasies of you like this, squirming beneath him and begging for his touch. He basks in the fulfilled wish of his, drinking in every second so he can remember it for later. Meanwhile, his finger massages your hole, dipping in with just the tip before pulling back out.

“Fuck,” you hiss, once again surprised at your own reaction. Your head is far past the point of clouding with lust, and now you’re dizzy with pleasure and the need to just have him inside of you already. “Anakin, please.”

“Patience,” he answers teasingly, although he does mean it. You can’t rush these things. And… he does have to admit that he loves seeing you so desperate and messy for him. Your neediness has him strain against his own pants, but he pushes that aside. For now, another dip of his finger into your throbbing pussy has you arch off the bed, urging him deeper, and it’s heaven to witness.

He didn’t want to go all in just yet, but you’re gushing around his finger and taking it so well. So he lets you have it, sinking his finger all the way into you. You feel him go deeper and deeper, the never-ending length of his finger a stark contrast to your shorter ones. He’s reaching places you were never able to, and even the slide of him inside you elicits a deep, warm pleasure that spreads to the tips of your fingers.

He keeps his finger all the way inside for a moment, still as he feels your walls clench around him. Once he’s sure you’re all good, he begins pressing into you with shallow thrusts, thumb returning to your clit and rubbing in time with each push of his finger.

Curses spill from your lips, and Anakin can’t help himself. He leans down over you and captures them in his mouth, swallowing your cries of pleasure. The kiss is wet, dirty, and the muffled sounds of your moans combat the indecent slick and slide below. Soon, another finger is nudging at your opening, and you press yourself deeper into his lips in anticipation of that painful sting.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, his finger slides in a couple inches and he keeps both of them there, letting you adjust as his thumb rolls over your clit. You had never been able to use two fingers before, and your head goes fuzzy as he pushes them deeper. Your walls stretch around him pleasantly, accepting the welcome intrusion as he reaches deep inside you.

How is it fair that he can make you feel so much better than you can make yourself? It doesn’t seem right in the whole grand scheme of things, but you decide not to question it as his fingers suddenly curl inside you, searching. It feels odd, and he pulls back from your lips to concentrate for a second until-- there. Found it.

You almost knock your head into his as you shoot up, a startled cry leaving your lips as your vision whites with pleasure. Your fingers claw at his back, meeting the leather that still sits on his shoulders, and scrabbling over the smooth material for purchase. Anakin laughs at your reaction, easing you into a more comfortable position as he holds you against him with his metal arm behind your back.

You can’t find it in you to care that he’s laughing, not as long as he keeps rolling the pads of his fingers into you like this. His wrist curls, applying a harder pressure as he rubs against that spot, and your head falls back, hips pushing forward, the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard leaving your mouth.

“You like that,” he notes, proud smile ghosting over your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth quick and sweet, then asks, “Is it better when I go slow or fast?”

“Both,” you gasp. “Either. All of it. Oh my--”

“Soft or hard?”

“Anakin--”

Your brain is unable to focus on much else other than the feel of his fingers coaxing that blissful heat from your center. He plays around with paces and pressures, but everything feels good, it feels great, it feels amazing, it feels euphoric. Before long, your legs are shaking and a weird feeling comes over you, and you’re crying out,

“What’s happening?”

Anakin pauses, his entire body stilling as he meets your eyes. You’re completely serious, that much he can tell by the vulnerability in your eyes. He frowns, unbelieving at this revelation.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You whine and shift your hips into his hand, trying to get him to keep making you feel good. If this wasn’t your first time being with someone else, Anakin would have held your hip still and forced you to talk to him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. But, it was your first time with someone else, so he was deciding to be nice. He soothes your craving, resuming his movements but at a much slower pace. A pleased sigh from you fills the silence of him waiting expectantly for your answer.

“Um..” you swallow, hips meeting his hand with every thrust. “I don’t think so. No. Nothing’s ever felt… like… this…”

It’s like a sneeze, except much, much better. The way his fingers prod into you, slick with your arousal, the tips brushing and massaging against that spot that have you careening into his body. You would have toppled over on top of him if he wasn’t so strong and rooted to the bed. He holds your shivering body against his chest with his metal arm, lips marking their way around your chin and jaw as your head falls back in ecstasy.

He’s immensely turned on, that much is obvious from the painful straining in his pants. But it’s easy to ignore, knowing now that you’ve never fallen off that brink of pleasure before. He’s curious about it, oddly saddened by the fact, and wants nothing more than to show you the absolute highs he could help you reach. So he focuses back in on rubbing your clit with his thumb, fucking you deeply on his fingers. He allows you to clutch at his back and bury your hands in his hair, moaning in abandon.

Anakin shares you pleasure as the ball in your stomach unleashes, a blissful warmth crashing over you and invading your every cell. For a moment, your body isn’t yours-- it convulses and clenches around Anakin’s fingers, your cries bounce off the walls, your eyes squeeze closed. You hope the hands twisted into his hair don’t hurt him because you physically can’t let go as you ride that pleasure-filled haze, the feeling in your limbs abandoning you to be replaced with something much stronger.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are your gasps of air and the blood rushing through your ears. Anakin waits until your muscles relax, and then he slides his fingers out of you, smoothing his hand around your waist to join his other behind your back. He lays you down into the pillows again, burying his face in your neck as you struggle to get your legs to stop shaking.

“Y/n,” he mouths a line up your neck. “You there?”

“Mhm,” you gulp, the shock of that intense, pleasurable feeling just beginning to fade.

He pressed his deep chuckle into the spot right under your ear. “Good. I thought I lost you for a moment.”

If you were in your right state of mind, you would have laughed at his teasing. Now, all you can do is cup his face lazily in your boneless hands, pulling his face up so that you can look at him. His cheeks are flushed the slightest pink, eyes dark and sparkling, lips so red and full and inviting…

You kiss him, and he’s yours for a moment longer.

If only it could always be like this. If only this could be a daily experience, and afterwards you could take care of him, and you could feel that wonderful euphoria with him at the same time. If only he wouldn’t have to pull away soon, untangle himself from your still-shaking limbs, brush off what just happened, and be on his way. If only he could be yours forever.

All of this, you try to tell him through the kiss. Your lips are hot, sliding over with a wanton need. He feels your yearning, and he can tell it’s a different kind than earlier. You move to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” his low voice murmurs, and now he doesn’t look so playful. In fact, he looks very serious, and the rumble of his words causes your stomach to drop. “You should know, Y/n, I want you too.”

The whole room could be on fire and burning and falling to ash around you, but you wouldn’t notice. Everything pales in comparison to the flames that erupt in your heart at the sound of his words.

“You do?”

He purses his lips, running his eyes up and down your face. You’re nervous, and hopeful, and so, so scared. And also… still shivering. Most likely due to the cold, at this point. And he’s sure the drunken affects of your orgasm are still holding sway over your mind.

“This is a conversation I think would be much better held over some ruby bliels,” he decides, and begins to unwind himself from you. You let him, that hopeful spark still searing through your veins. Before getting off the bed, he presses a kiss into your hand and then smooths over it with his thumb.

You want to say something cute or witty, but the only thing your dumb brain can come up with is, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiles fondly, moving toward the door. “I’ll meet you out there. Feel free to remain pantsless.”

This has you rolling your eyes, laughing lightly as you fall back against the pillows. Don’t tempt me.

The prospect of a future with Anakin is at the forefront of your brain, blood pumping thick as molasses as you struggle to convince yourself this is reality. He shuts the door behind him as you leave, and you roll onto your stomach to scream into the pillow.

This was a dream come true.

#anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin fic #anakin x fem reader fic #anakin skywalker x fem reader fic #soft anakin #friends to lovers #star wars prequels fic

442 notes · View notes

cellard0ors · 3 years

Text

Fic: Movement (4/5)

Still working on this for @peachworthy. Should wrap up sometime this week or next and then the full thing'll get posted to AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here for now!

They decide to do it on a Saturday night.

Link has the weekend off from work and no classes. Rhett’s schedule is also free. They discuss the matter in terse terms, both seeming nervous about the idea, but neither backing down.

As such, Saturday rolls around with little fanfare until late into the evening. An evening that finds Link sitting on the couch, one of his legs jiggling and bouncing about as he waits for Rhett.

Rhett comes out to the living room holding a pillow and he offers it to Link. Link looks at it with some confusion and his friend clears his throat, eyes darting away, “For your lap.”

“My-?” Link looks down and then to Rhett and then…oh. Link colors, realizing that the pillow is to be used in order to cover any potentially ‘arising’ situation on his part. Feel exposed yet stubborn, he remarks dryly, “Don’t think I’ll need that.”

Rhett lets out a loud laugh and pats him in the chest with it, “Trust me. If I’ve done my job right? You will.”

“…point taken,” Link says softly and he takes the pillow, settling it over his crotch. To be fair, he probably will pop wood. After all, he sometimes pops it when Rhett’s full clothed.

Nude?

Yeah.

Link presses down on the pillow harder, even the errant thought of a nude Rhett causing a stirring. Rhett walks to the television and fiddles with the remote.

An app that Link’s noticed before, but never bothered with, is clicked on. Erotes Plus. The screenshots for the videos that come up are…certainly something. Link looks away, almost overwhelmed by all the bare flesh before him. The titles of the videos are also a bit much. Rhett notices and Link can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Prude.”

Link scowls and glares back at him and the screen. He is nota prude. However, titles such as ‘Lonely Housewife Squirts for The First Time’ and ‘He Rides His Daddy Dry’ would take anybody aback. At least Link would like to think so – he supposes some people are more immune than others. After all, his own history with porn is on the small side.

During puberty he’d taken his healthy peeks at nude magazines and a few of his friends had snuck out adult VHS tapes to check out, but for the most part it hadn’t interested him. Granted, this was probably due to his eventual discovery that – while he appreciated the female form – it didn’t draw his interest quite like the male one did.

And finding gay porn? Where he grew up? Yeah, pretty much a completely impossibility. And then – when he’d finally managed to snag some – it had, once more, disappointed. It all just seemed so cold and callous. Like a business transaction with a boatload of grunting. Not at all to his tastes.

Rhett, scrolling through the videos, finally finds one titled simply ‘Movement’ and turns to Link with an apprehensive glance, “Still plenty of time to say ‘no’.”

Link’s throat is dry. Unlike some of the other screenshots, this one is vaguer. It’s two forms silhouetted in shadow. One of those forms is Rhett. Link feels numb as he speaks, “I’m good.”

Rhett clicks the video and it begins.

He moves over and sits near Link, lounging against the other side of the couch in an oh-so-casual way. As if an adult video starring him hasn’t just begun to play.

The film opens with a lithe redhead in a yoga outfit doing various poses. While this is being shown the title card appears followed by the starring and since Link highly doubts Rhett goes by ‘Jenessa Star’, he can’t help but chuckle at, “‘Donatello Velvet’?”

“What?” Rhett asks simply and Link gestures to the television, “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That’s the screen name you chose?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just don’t see you as a ‘Donatello’,” Link grins at him and Rhett laughs, rubbing one finger along his top lip thoughtfully, “What would you’d’ve gone with then?”

“If I was doing adult film?” Link asks and at Rhett’s nod, he crosses his arms and thinks, “I don’t know…Bevin, maybe?”

Rhett tosses his head back and laughs and Link feels a fissure of delight at that sound, just as he always does. He turns back and the redhead’s poses have become…much more complex. Almost painful looking as she contorts herself to degrees Link wouldn’t think possible and then she rises, stretching out and that’s when Rhett enters.

Or maybe it would be better to think of it as Donatello enters. Yes, it’s a little easier that way and Link does his best to cling to that, to try and stay nonchalant as he offers dryly, “Well, well – there’s a familiar lookin’ fella.”

Rhett just hums and they both watch as he walks up to the woman. He runs his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, whispering into her neck huskily, “Good form.”

Link can’t help but let out a snort. Rhett rolls his eyes, “Okay, okay – I know, I know. Dialogue’s a bit-?”

“Bad?”

“…it could use some improvement.”

“Uh huh,” Link just beams and hey, this isn’t so bad. Cheesy and kind of silly and maybe it will just stay like this. Light and fun. For all Link knows, they won’t even watch the whole thing. Maybe just some of it and then they can turn on something els-!

Rhett begins kissing Jenessa’s neck, white teeth visibly dragging along her skin and Link’s whole body tightens. A phantom sting starts along the same side of his neck that Rhett’s touching on Jenessa. Jenessa’s whole throat arches back, a pleasured moan leaving her and Rhett’s tongue is…very pink.

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he says (much huskier than he’d like) “N-Nice camera work…”

Rhett just hums, “Mac’s always had a good eye.”

“Mac?”

“Mackenzie, the director of this one.”

Link just lets out a sound of acknowledgement as he watches Rhett reach around Jenessa and tug at her tank top. Tug until her small, pointed breasts pop free. He cups them in his hands and he has…great hands.

They looks so tan against her skin, palms rough and big, and Jenessa lets out a full throttle moan. Rhett teases the pink tips, fingertips agile as they play along the sensitive flesh, as they circle around her areolas.

She whimpers and turns, kisses him fully, passionately, and it’s…messy. Wet. Link can feel his whole heart thump hard at the sight. Janessa’s hair is shorter than Rhett’s – cropped close to her scalp and Rhett’s hands have abandoned her chest to run through the short strands.

Link barely stops himself from reaching up and touching his own hair, instinctively wanting to mimic how that might feel. To imagine Rhett doing it to him.

He tries not to fidget and talking, talking will help, “Surprised this isn’t more, ah, instant.”

Rhett shrugs, “Foreplay’s a thing, man.”

“No, I know,” Link knows his voice pitches a little high at this, defensive, “Just…figured, mean...’s porn…”

“Some of the earlier videos on here are like that, but when EP got bought out, the new owners took the company in a different direction.”

“EP?”

“Erotes Plus. The platform these films are on,” Rhett explains and then he starts mentioning a few things about different production companies and distributors and the like, but Link is too distracted because Jenessa is now fully naked and Rhett is on his knees between her legs, feasting on her moist lower lips.

The silken tip of his tongue is parting her, dancing along the bundle of nerves that is her clit and her head is tossed back on a loud, wild whine.

Her pale body undulates and she’s gripping his long hair so hard. Link feels as if he’s having an out of body experience. This is his roommate. His friend. The man he’s secretly in love with.

And he’s pleasuring this woman with such…focus. With intensity and finesse and when he rises, his erection is clear, straining at the linen pants that are containing it. Link points to the screen weakly, “Hippie clothes.”

The comment is stupid and unhelpful, but Rhett just laughs, “Yeah – kinda the theme of this series. I’m like, a Yoga Instructor or something? Least that's the way it was explained to me, so – linen pants, cotton top – I mean, we’ve had better costumes, but for this shoot-!”

Rhett is talking some more but, again, Link is barely listening. His eyes are transfixed by what’s taking place on the screen. Janessa easily strips off Rhett’s shirt and then his pants and – No. Underwear.

Link is seeing Rhett’s dick. It’s there…thick, but not as big as his own, a visible vein running along one side. Dusky dark and with a blushing pink tip and gently curling hair hiding his full, taunt sack…

“Link? Buddy? You doin’ alright?”

“Fine.”

“Lookin’ like you seen a ghost," Rhett teases, but there’s a breathless quality to his words, “My body all that bad?”

Link just shakes his head and watches as Jenessa strokes Rhett, as his head falls back and he lets out a shuddering gasp that Link feels in his very bones.

Link is suddenly very, very thankful for the pillow that bobs some as it reacts to the situation taking place beneath it. That situation being Link’s own dick perking upwards, making his jeans tight and constrictive.

“You…?” Something Rhett said finally seems to click in Link’s head, “You said this is a series?”

“Yup,” Rhett murmurs and now the film shows him pressing Jenessa against one of the studio walls and she raises one leg high. Insanely high. It’s a very gymnastic level move and Rhett slots his cock up with her opening, sliding hard and deep into her body.

Jenessa lets out a wail of pleasure as he presses in and she holds that leg up – all strength and grace as he begins to move within her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips answer some, but it’s more about how…open she is. And how deep he’s getting. They’re eyes are locked as he picks up his pace, rocketing in and out of her, shaking her whole form with his thrusts, her tiny breasts jiggling with each movement and movement, they call this…

“Got an award for this one.”

Thank God. That one comment draws Link back to some semblance of sanity even as his body quickens with an unspeakable longing, a carnal hunger that aches, “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says with no small amount of pride, “Best Sex Scene.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I owe it to her to be honest,” he waves to the screen, “She’s the one turning herself into a pretzel throughout this thing. Same for the rest of ‘em. They kept finding co-stars for me to work with who had had extensive training in this sort of body contortion. It was just my job to, uh, well…”

Rhett waves again and the answer is obvious: to fuck them through it. Link is not at all limber. In fact, he’s kind of a klutz. Nothing to match up with someone like this.

For some reason, this realization leaves him hollow. Cold. His arousal dims some, “Where’d you get the award from?”

“XRCO.”

Link makes some sound that would imply he understands, but he doesn’t. Rhett sighs, “Got nominated for Most Popular Male Performer on Pornhub but lost to Johnny Rockwell. Guy deserved it though. Performance he did that year was nuts.”

Link’s lost in the vocal cacophony that is erupting from the television speakers. Moans, gasps, grunts, cries of sheer ecstasy as Rhett and Janessa really ramp it up.

They’re in a different position now, Jenessa’s body once more arched at a crazy angle and Rhett's just...really getting in there. His hips are pumping double time, like a jackhammer, and she is loving it.

Her blue eyes are flashing with adoration, her lips curled in that moue that speaks to an almost pleasurable pain and Link can’t help but ask, “Are the others with her?”

Rhett takes a moment to process the question and when he realizes Link is asking about the other films in the series, he shakes his head, “Nah, man. You don’t usually have repeating partners. Like I said, they found other people who could bend in weird ways. The sequel to this sees me with Julian St. Croix. Great guy. Really smart. He’s actually working on another doctorate. Plans on working in the tech field when he retires, which – money he’s making, should be pretty damned soon. You want me to dial that up?”

Link just shakes his head. The idea of watching Rhett doing something like this with yet another person and with a man no less…

He feels crappy for, well, feeling crappy. This is Rhett’s job. He shouldn’t take this personally.

Besides, it’s not like Rhett knows how Link feels about him. To him, they’re just friends and he should play the part of friend – be a friend, a good friend, “I can see why you won the award, Rhett. You’re doing a…a great job. Real good acting.”

The sound of the shocked (yet oddly sharp) laughter that leaves Rhett at that actually causes Link to finally look at him.

Rhett’s face is a ruddy red, like he’s embarrassed or something, and he’s looking at Link with a bit of a wildfire in his eyes, “‘Good acting? Are you serious?”

Link finally shifts about on the couch (which feels fantastic considering his body has been fighting off a plethora of sensations for a while now) as he fully turns to him, pillow still firmly in place, “Of course! I mean, it-it seems like you’re really into this girl,” he gestures to the screen, “when you’re doing this and I imagine that’d take some acting chops.”

He chews on his bottom lip and lowers his gaze, hands ghosting over the pillow as he talks to it more than Rhett, “Un-unless you really are into her.”

“Into her?” Rhett pokes one finger over to the television, “Into Janessa?”

“Yeah, I mean…if-if you two are a couple or-or were one or-?”

“Me and Janessa?” Rhett asks incredulously and some of the heat seems to leave him. Link gets the impression that Rhett had, for a moment, been mad or affronted by Link’s well intentioned compliment, but now is completely changing track. Now Rhett seems charmingly baffled, “You think I’m into Janessa?”

“I-I was just saying if you’re not into her in this,” Link waves to the screen where (seeing as the volume is dying down) it would seem the film is reaching its conclusion, “Then the acting is good and if you are-!”

“I’m not,” Rhett confirms firmly, “I am very much not, nor was I ever, into Janessa. We’re friendly, but we’d never work as a couple, man. She likes cats.”

Rhett says the last as if it’s a blasphemy and Link can’t help but giggle, suddenly feeling bright and light even though he knows better than to do so, “Problem?”

“Not a big fan of lil demons…”

“Noted, “Link sighs and he feels much, much better. The film is finally over, he’s seen some of Rhett’s work, and he can now say the following with sheer confidence, “I’m proud of you.”

And with that, Rhett freezes. He freezes solid, back going ram rod straight, and his eyes – they’re as round as dinner plates.

Big and green and looking at Link like’s a wild anomaly and Link worries that maybe he, somehow, inadvertently offended him with the remark so he’s quick to explain, “I-I mean it, bo. I’m proud of you. Going out there and-and doing something like this. Being so…so exposed and vulnerable and for anyone to see and yeah, sure, I mean, I guess it’s just for people to-to beat off to or whatever, but when you think about it, it’s something that brings people pleasure, which is a lot better than bringing something bad into people's lives and I know some would argue that porn is like, some gateway into violent dark tendencies or whatever, but for the average person it’s a good thing to explore and the fact you can so freely provide that to them and not be ashamed-!”

Link is blathering.

He’s a blathering idiot.

But he feels like if he stops talking, Rhett might snap at him. Or be mad. Or-!

But instead Rhett just shakes his head and whispers, “You’re unbelievable.”

Link’s diatribe cuts off. His blood stops in his veins. He feels completely seized.

“I’ve been trying so hard…fighting with everything in me,” Rhett breathes and he just…eases forward, eases closer. He’s in Link’s personal space and Link wonders if he should back up or something.

He can feel the heat coming off Rhett’s skin. His breath is bathing Link’s face as he rasps, “But I can’t anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, but…”

Rhett kisses him.

Rhett. Kisses. Him.

Rhett kisses Link.

Their lips meet in the smallest, quickest, sweetest little peck. The sound of it, the quick wet click of their lips…it’s earth shattering, sound-barrier breaking.

And Link feels his whole nervous system lurch at it. And Rhett is still looking at him, searching his eyes wildly. Link blinks and licks his lips and tries to speak, but there’s nothing to say.

Rhett just grins softly, “Bad for business…that’s what you are…”

Link’s gaze dips to Rhett’s mouth. To his lips. Lips that were on his seconds ago. His eyes feel heavy lidded as he gulps and Rhett just huffs as he kisses him again. Again.

Another kiss and this one is more than just a peck. This one? This one is the one Link’s been dreaming of, the one he’s been wishing for.

This kiss is perfect.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy

43 notes · View notes

yackers · 2 years

Note

of the couples that were together at the end of tor, which do you think stayed together through uni? do you think any of them lasted beyond that?

hmm this is tricky because tor tells has absolutely nothing about anyone’s futures outside of the fact alfie and willow going to the same uni and none of the couples even acknowledge that they’re leaving each other etc which tbh I’ve always really liked because it lets us decide their futures and they don’t ruin things at the last minute for the sake of realism. so in my ideal little world I’d like to think most of the couples make it but I also get that that’s entirely unrealistic

fabian & mara: I think they break up towards the end of that summer before uni. both of them are aware it’s just a fling but they have a great summer. they’re obviously slightly using each other as rebounds from their messy previous relationships but it’s nice for them to have something sweet and easy for once to make them realise that dating doesn’t have to be hard. because of this, the fact their unis are far apart and they’re looking forward to kinda starting over somewhere new they mutually break up a few weeks before they go off to uni to give them time to get over it. they remain friends for the rest of their lives, I see people say shit about mara losing contact with everyone and hate on their relationship or whatever but I don’t think people realise how much having lived together for years changes the relationships people develop with each other vs regular school. they had the potential to be really cute if they were less rushed.

willow & alfie: I’d love to believe they stayed together, they’re so cute. and honestly they could’ve. but they would probably go into accommodation and make different lots of friends and being in a couple makes it hard to go off and do your own thing with new people. so I think they’d try make it work but it would put a strain on their relationship. they then either break up or make friends with each other’s friends and stay together, tbh it could go either way. idk if I see them lasting forever though. depends if they go down career paths that mean they’d stay near each other. I think willow would break up with him if she got a job offer somewhere else because she knows alfie would move with her and she doesn’t want him to keep making all his major life choices based on her and uproot his whole life. tldr: I think they’d try to make it work but ultimately life could easily get in the way.

joy & jerome: I reallly want these two to last. how I see it they’d probably break up that summer because they think it’s what they’re supposed to do and would kinda wreck them but they’d pretend it didn’t. they’d go off to uni, make friends, set up their lives there and be happy, but they’d both kinda feel like something’s missing. their friends’ attempts to set them up with people never really feel right. one night in joy’s maybe second yet of uni she drunk texts jerome and they get to talking again. they’ve both lived single for long enough and trains in england are so easy so he comes to see her and they get back together. they do the distance thing for a while but it’s not that far because I feel like they’d both go to unis in the south and then they eventually get a place together. they have so much in common and they get each other so much and I feel like after all the stuff they’ve been through no one else would quite be able to get it and I want them to last so they do idc.

patricia & eddie: they go to colleges near each other in america and they date the whole way through. patricia spends a bunch of the breaks at his mom’s house with him. I feel like the sibuna and sibuna affiliated couples have a better shot than usual hs couples because they’re trauma bonded sjejdj. they stay together after, moving in together maybe with kt too because they don’t want it to get too serious too quick. they’re together forever because I said so. they definitely have fights coz they’re still them and maybe they go on like a month or two long break at some point because of whatever but they always make it back to each other.

#this is entirely subjective idc #house of anubis #anon #ask #txt

7 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Do Well. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: dabi is just a huge asshole, emotional manipulation, implied panic attack word count: 2.6k.

“Would you be a dear and wait here for a few? I need to take a call.”

Dabi tilts his head alongside his words, glints of amusement present in his sapphire eyes. You’re certain the bastard picks up on every subconscious movement your body makes at the question, feeling like an open book before him. Despite your valiant efforts, human biology doesn’t operate in your personal interest. The challenging premonition causes your lips to curl down, fingers twitching on the wide straw of your milk tea. Pausing mid sip, you pull back, eyelashes fluttering. It’s the subservient behavior he wants to see, and considering the alternatives, you’re tripping over yourself to give it to him.

“... Of course. I should just stay here, right?” It’s more of a question posed for your sake than his, information vital to keep your head above water. Any movements on your behalf that even hint at disobedience could lead to dire consequences, ranging in severity. The worst of which is being confined back to his dingy apartment, with nothing but your thoughts to entertain yourself. All the faux smiles, carefully timed giggles, and strategic brushes of skin against skin would be for naught. You worked too hard for these trips outside for it to fall through your fingers like sand.

Your captor makes a point of giving you a once over, lackadaisical visage a front for a predator in waiting. Condensation builds up against the plastic container in hand, making it tricky to tell if it’s your hands growing clammy or the drink. Time passes by at a snail’s pace, neither of you making the slightest of movements. People go about their lives in happy-go-lucky bliss, none the wiser to the potential harm that Dabi poses. Feeling finally returns to your body as he stands, seemingly content with the exchange.

He shoots you a coy look over his shoulder, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Dabi snickers at how your nose scrunches up, waving and slinking off with his phone in hand. You watch his retreating figure, still in disbelief over the unfolding events. This would be the first time since being kidnapped that you’ve been on your own in public. These special little outings were a privilege, one that you had worked diligently for. Consistently being on your best behavior, day after day, in the presence of someone you abhor from the depths of your soul is no easy task. A rush of adrenaline shoots through your body when he’s out of sight, eyes darting around in excitement.

This is a prime location to make an escape, the outdoors of a crowded mall in the afternoon. Everyone ranging from families, to couples, and employees on their lunch break are walking around. Lively chatter fills your ears, and you observe every possibility as if it’s your last. While it’s likely a futile dream, the rush your quickening pulse brings demands attention. Lithe fingers shake by your side, every ounce of your strength devoted to keeping yourself from unraveling at the mere concept of being free. He has to be watching. You know him well enough that he wouldn’t have offered the opportunity to escape on a silver platter, there’s got to be measures in place.

There’s no way he isn’t keeping an eye on you now, making sure that you hold true to your word of behaving.

Your shoulders slump at this cruel reality. The act of looking around excitedly would be too much of a give away, an observation he’d surely bring up later. An eruption of goosebumps dot your skin, even in the sweltering summer heat. Taking another sip of your drink, you abandon hope of escape, certain it’d be a mistake should you try it. Though he’s purposefully kept you in the dark on most of his relationships with the League of Villains, you can safely assume he’s interconnected with enough unsavory figures to locate you should it be necessary. In contrast to the sugary goodness that coats your tongue, a sour taste in your mouth develops at this blatant flaunting of power. What an asshole.

To be so self-assured that even in the event of your escape, hunting you down and bringing you back into his loving arms is still within the realm of possibility. Your eye twitches at this realization, mentally flinging numerous curses towards him. He didn’t have to make it so obvious, rubbing salt on the theoretical wound of your pride. Too preoccupied with festering thoughts of resentment, you fail to notice a figure taking a seat next to you on the bench.

“Is the drink not good or something?” A light, masculine voice asks from your left. Darting around immediately at the interruption of your venomous thoughts, you spot a man around your age. Sporting messy brunette hair and a casual get up of a tee with a pair of jeans, it tugs painfully on your heart to see someone living an uninhibited life as you used to. This envy mutates into horror, as you realize being caught speaking to a stranger is going to land you in boiling water. Dabi’s consciousness is a minefield in waiting, daring to blow at the slightest wrong movement.

What do you do? It might leave a wrong impression should you not say anything. The current times are plagued by high tension. Numerous League of Villain attacks have rendered the surrounding regions on constant alert, news anchors telling folks to be wary of anyone or anything suspicious. Weighing your options, you decide to dismiss the stranger in kind as fast as humanly possible.

Just act natural, act natural… “W-why do you say that?”

Shit. Your first conversation with someone other than Dabi in over half a year has left you thoroughly horrified, pupils no doubt dilated and voice meeker than a mouse squeak. The stutter has you wincing, your naive companion undoubtedly picking up on it. You want nothing more than to shoo him off, but in fear of drawing unwanted attention, attempt to suppress your frayed nerves. You’ve been through worse than a strained conversation and made it out relatively unscatched, but this feels like a different type of battle.

“You just seemed to be making quite the upset face,” he chuckles, reminiscing on the thought. He must’ve been referring to the glowering thinking about Dabi brought out from you. “I swear I’m not a creep or anything. I was just waiting to pick up my little sister, and happened to catch you scowling.”

“The name’s Ryota. And you?”

Suppressing panic that threatens to drown you, you swallow thickly. “I’m uh, Hina. The drink is fine… I just have a lot on my mind.”

The lie is seasoned with enough truths that you hope it isn’t too transparent. Giving away your actual name could hint back to missing person’s cases, the thought of which would greatly displease Dabi. Besides, if it had been as simple as going to the police, you would’ve done it by now. You’ve grown uncomfortably familiar with Dabi’s workings, killing off a few people or bribing them would be one of the least heinous things in his portfolio. You figure the best case scenario here is that this well meaning Ryota character leaves you be, or else dire consequences will come to fruition.

“Good to know, Hina-san. My lil sis talks about boba often, but I’ve never gotten that into it. I figure since the store’s right here, I should surprise her with a drink. What would you recommend?”

You can’t help but greedily soak in the normalcy an interaction like this brings with it. The irritation from being drawn into a conversation is replaced with pity, a stronger resolve to keep this bystander out of harm’s way blooming. There’s no time to be wasted on the warmth erupting in your chest, or on the first genuine smiles in months that’s settled on your lips. To see the best humanity has to offer, after being subjected to the worst, is a much needed breath of fresh air. While it may be greedy to fixate on these aspects, you find yourself wanting to savor the moment of being a regular person.

Surely, Dabi would understand your logic.

“It depends on her tastes. If she likes sweeter drinks, I’d recommend Thai milk tea. If you’re not sure, classic milk tea is always a safe bet.” You’re proud of how you’ve been able to pull yourself together, speaking like you used to. With this, he should be set to leave, or at least you want to believe this. Unfortunately for you, life is never so easy. He doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere anytime soon, crossing his legs and leaning slightly closer to you. Realizing your mistake of radiating friendliness, your muscles go taut.

You need to do something about this before it’s too late.

Ryota scratches his head, mulling over your advice. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I appreciate your insight.”

“It feels nice to be able to chill and talk like this every now and then. If I’m being honest, I was somewhat against my sister coming out to hang with friends,” Ryota’s tone takes a turn for the somber, face looking crestfallen. “With all the chaos that’s been around, y’know. It feels like everyday I wake up to more of those League of Villain stories. It feels like it’ll just be a matter of time until something happens near here.”

“I’m sorry that--”

“Things sure are rough,” A voice that brings out every negative emotion possible speaks up from behind you, Dabi’s familiar figure slithering into sight. He takes a seat on the bench, close to your person, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a bit. You mind?”

Neither of you were expecting the sudden interruption, Ryota trying to piece everything together. “Oh, uh, not at all.’

Everything hits you like a ton of bricks. From Dabi’s rich cologne that mixes in with the smell of ash, his hair brushing against the side of your face, to the possessiveness of his grip. He squeezes your shoulder, looking from Ryota to you. It takes a moment to register what he’s communicating, but you’re able to decipher the gesture. In a last ditch attempt to salvage this situation, you confirm Dabi’s statement before things get ugly. Nodding your head, you watch with bated breath as Ryota looks from Dabi to you. He gets up from his spot on the bench, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It was nice talking to you.”

Ryota heads off towards the mall doors, leaving you in the clutches of the devil incarnate. You feel how terribly warm Dabi is next to you, words wanting to spill out to justify the actions that led up to this moment. Before you get the opportunity to ramble out your thoughts, Dabi places a finger on your lips, looking at you with the same grin as always.

“Making some new friends, hm?” He inquires, drawing out the syllables. His finger goes south, lifting up your chin, and holding you close to his face. “Awe, babe. You look like you’re aboutta cry. Don’t give me that look.”

You’re not sure if you should feel horrified at his sudden spike in talkativeness, or relieved over not having to speak your piece yet. The words wouldn’t be able to leave your mouth even if you wanted them to, a lump forming in your throat to coincide the dryness of your tongue. Dabi makes a point of emphasizing his engulfing height, having to tilt your head up to maintain eye contact. Not wanting to make a scene, you do everything within your power to still the tears that are threatening to spill out. There’s no visible signs of wrath, not that you can pick up on. He watches with great interest as you calm yourself, releasing the grip on your face and leaning back into the bench.

When you appear sufficiently soothed, he speaks up once more, voice grating your ears. “So tell me, doll. What was all that about? I knew you’d be hurting for company in my absence, but I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to speak to someone else.”

“I… I was approached, and… I swear, nothing happened. He just-- just wanted to know about a drink for his sister, and--”

Dabi gently flicks your forehead, unable to stifle his cackling any longer. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I saw everything.”

It doesn’t settle in immediately, the hypothetical cogs and gears of your head turning in slow motion. Your heart is pounding so violently that you hear it in your ears, your face erupting into a bright red. Humiliation, indignation, and finally, loathing take turns dominating your mind. He’s always had the best of times playing with you at your own expense, poking and prodding to see what reactions he can get. There’s a knee jerk reaction to want to slap him, anything to let out these overflowing feelings. Knowing that getting bothered is what he finds the most pleasure in, you’re further motivated to gain control over yourself.

A deep breath. Inhale, exhale. You continue repeating these steps, biting your tongue to the point it stings. Dabi rests his head on his fist, watching you calm yourself down through lidded eyes. You really do get yourself worked up so easily, it’s endearing. He wants to pinch your cheeks and tease you more, but is feeling generous enough to give you this time to gather yourself. There’ll be plenty of time to play with you later, occupying himself with this cute sight placates him for the time being. When you finally reopen your eyes, you’re met with the deplorable sight of Dabi’s crooked grin.

“Can we just… go home? Please?” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate everything about this situation, about the life that you’ve been forced into living. How you have to adapt to unspoken rules, subjected to twists and turns that never let you lower your guard. Most of all, you hate the person who has done this to you. His touch, his scent, his voice, all of it. You want nothing more than to scream at him at the top of your lengths, ripping that satisfied looking off his flesh and ridding yourself of this turmoil once and for all.

“Hm? Already? I thought you were hoping to get some dinner out tonight.” Dabi keeps up an air of nonchalance, likely wanting to hear you repeat yourself. Not willing to give in outright, you instead bunch up the fabric of his jacket with your hand.

“Dabi…”

It’s a low plea. You know you’ve gotten your point across ages ago, but he’s deriving too much pleasure from seeing how you squirm. The painful utterance serves you well, earning the slightest bit of reprieve as he gets up. On shaky legs, you follow after him, head downcast. Fixating on the tops of your shoes, you wonder if distracting yourself might do anything to ease your tormented soul. The events of the day have left you thoroughly exhausting, and nothing sounds better to you than sleeping for as long as he’ll allow you.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head on back,” he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. No longer having strength to muster up in retaliation, you let him do as he pleases, still fighting down sniffles. “Don’t bother your pretty little head about this.”

You don’t bother honoring him with a reaction.

Dabi takes a final glance over his shoulder, spotting the pesky man from before, who is still waiting against a wall. He takes a mental picture of the notable features, lips settling into a deep frown. How troublesome. Before you notice anything, he picks up his pace, continuing the walk back to his apartment. Ideas and resentment swirl within his mind like a tornado, pent up frustration begging to be released.

All in due time, he thinks.

495 notes · View notes