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wife-of-all-dilfs · 4 months

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what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?"

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

3K notes · View notes

intoanotherworld23 · 3 months

Text

Good And Bad

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, this one shot is all smut and sex so ye have been warned, unprotected sex, bondage, slight bdsm, oral female receiving, minor fingering, dirty dirty sex

Summary: You just want to be a good girl for Joel, but you can’t help but wanting to be bad at the same time

Authors note: Man I only imagine what those hands of his could do! Reblog reblog reblog! I can’t stress how much reblogging helps out writers! If you guys enjoyed please let me know! Plus my tag list is always open so don’t hesitate to ask me! Thanks everyone so much! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

"God that feels so good."

The heat between your legs was becoming almost unbearable at this moment. It was like an ache you couldn't get rid of, and it was starting to get to you.

Fingers gripping onto the hand rails behind your head as the silk fabric started to cut into your skin. The more you pulled the tighter it seemed to wrap around your wrist.

Back arching off the bed as your toes became entangled in the cold sheets. It was like you were being tortured, and you loved every minute of it.

Your legs were numb to feeling as they were constantly shaking, and thick hands were gripping your soft flesh.

A wet tongue lapping relentlessly at your raw core. Running circles around your dripping opening like you were his last meal. The sounds of your slickness like music to his ears. He could keep you like this all day, and you knew he would too.

"Mhhhm. More Joel." Whispering just enough for him to hear.

"You want more?" Tongue sucking onto your clit making your cry out.

Diving his tongue right in as his fingers spread your lips apart getting easier access. Nuzzling his face so close his nose was brushing against your clit. His tongue massaging your inner walls as his hands rubbed soothing circles on your outer knees.

Rotating your hips against his face wanting more, but unable to open your mouth and say the words. His tongue literally had you speechless right now.

"Something wrong sweetheart?" His tone condescending as he smirked up at you. "Did you need something?"

Pushing two fingers inside of you admiring how tight you were. Biting your bottom lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. His fingers felt so delicious inside of you.

Your limbs felt so heavy but relaxed at the same time. Whining down at Joel to go faster, and he responded with a light chuckle.

"Can't wait to fuck that little cunt of yours." He says biting his bottom lip.

His thick fingers continued to slowly thrust and curl inside of you. Waiting for your response as you gasped when he sharply pushed his digits all the way up into your cervix. He was in complete control over you, and had you right where he wanted you.

Joel quickly realized that you weren't responding or saying anything. He found it quite amusing that you wouldn't say anything back almost like you were trying to hold back, and didn't want to be too loud.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased when you weren't responding.

Watching intensely as your mouth hung open, and only little squeaks came out. Kissing up your stomach as he nuzzled your hot skin loving how vulnerable you were for him. Really pulling against your restraints hoping he would untie you.

"Such a poor little thing aren't you." Joel coos into your ear. "So desperate to cum."

"Joel." Mewling desperate to grip onto his locks or just something.

Instead of responding he just pulls apart your thighs even more. The slight burn radiating all the way down to your calves. Meanwhile he just stared between your legs licking his lips noticing just how wet and raw you looked.

"Fuck just look at you." Shaking his head in almost disbelief you were all his. "Look so fucking beautiful."

Watching as he lowers one of his hands to grip onto his very erect cock. Stroking himself groaning in pain from how sensitive he was. All he wanted right now was to bury himself deep inside of you.

Even though it was a very simple motion it was still the hottest thing you had ever seen. Grinding your hips into the air wanting him to touch you or something. Of course Joel saw what you were doing and grinned down at you.

"What do you want baby?" Reaching out to grip softly onto your neck with the same hand that gripped his cock just seconds ago.

"Joel please." Whining up at him just hoping he would give it to you.

"No no." He shakes his head at you. "My sweet girl I want to hear you say it."

His hand tightening around your neck just slightly. Feeling the pressure of his fingers against your throat. Smoothly running his hand down past your collarbone, and in between your breasts. Feeling just how heavily your were breathing.

Joel was known for pushing you past your comfort zone. He wanted you to always give in to what he wanted when it came to sex. He wanted you and nobody else.

Just to tease you even more he places the tip of his cock at your entrance. Gathering your juices and rubbing it up and down. Twisting your hips to get more, but he just grabbed your hips to keep you still.

"Tell me like the good little girl you are." His tip barely just entering you.

Hoping that Joel would just give in push in all the way, but he wasn't having your silence. He kept it there while wiggling his hips just to tease you even more.

"Wanna hear that pretty mouth speak." His tone very low as his eyes became darker.

"Please fuck me Joel." Finally able to say the words. "Just fuck me so hard I want your cock so badly."

Smiling down at you as he leaned forward to attach his lips to yours. His mouth moving along yours in such a sensual manner you felt so many sparks of fireworks. Feeling the outline of his cock pressed against your pussy.

Pushing his tongue inside your mouth at the same time he pushed his length inside of you. Swallowing your moans as his hips were pressed into your pelvis. Staying there for just a few seconds so you could adjust. Savoring the moment your walls enclosed around him like little suckers.

"Such a tight delicious pussy for me." He groaned as he pulled out and pushing back in. "Gonna have to fuck you more often sweetheart."

He begins to pound into your cunt with no mercy. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours. Moving the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. His little grunts echoing in your ear and he moved relentlessly inside of you.

Feeling the fabric rubbing against your skin even harder creating a painful burning sensation. Typically the pain would have brought tears to your eyes, but right now it was only heightening the pleasure even more intensely.

"Look at me baby girl." Commanding you noticing your shut eyes. "Look into my eyes as you cum around my cock."

Noticing how his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth staring deep into your eyes. Feeling your cheeks begin to become hot with such an intimate interaction. It was just you and him in this moment, and he wanted you to become lost in each other.

"That's my good girl." He praised you. "Always such a good sweet girl for me."

Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you began to feel that intense feeling building inside your stomach. Breasts bouncing back and forth with the motion of his rocking. His eyes looking down at them with lust. Unable to bear it anymore as he attached your left breast into his mouth.

"Oh my god." Crying out throwing your head back.

Joel could tell you were right there with each squeeze around his cock. He wanted to cum at the same time that you did. Holding himself back from spilling his seed inside of you too soon. Sweating so heavily he felt like he would almost pass out.

Lifting his head to look down at where you two are connected. Noticing as each time his cock pulls out a white creamy like substance strings along his length. The image drives him absolutely feral. Moving in and out of you so harshly your afraid he might actually break your body.

Your pathetic whimpers and moans are what keep him motivated. His eyes staying concentrated on your completely blissed out face. Your pupils absolutely dilated from being high off of each other.

"Cum for me sweetheart." He begs you unable to hold back any longer. "I'm right there."

One of his hands reached down between you two to rub circles against your bundle of nerves. That was enough to send you spiraling. Your toes curling as your whole body shook with such an intense orgasm. Legs trembling against Joel's hips as he held onto you.

Spilling his own seed inside of you his cock twitching a couple of times as he drained the last of his fluid. Laying against you feeling absolutely tired but relaxed.

"Was that okay?" He asked timidly as he reached up to untie your sore wrists. Your limbs falling straight down. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No." Responding out of breath eyes fluttering. "No Joel it was perfect."

"Good." He smiled up at you snuggling against your sweaty body his head on your chest. "Cause I'm not done with you yet."

#Joel Miller #pedro pascal #Joel Miller smut #pedro pascal smut #Joel Miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #Joel Miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine #Joel Miller fic #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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moonrisecoeur · 6 months

Note

Ur the best sub Leon writer soooo… idk if you seen these but ppl treat las plagas parasite as sex pollen 😭 and I’m so here for it. Concept : re4 leon infected by the parasite OK but he starts out very agressive but ofc he’s a sub so he does whatever reader wants in order to yk… achieve the goal of the parasite (breeding 😔 who said that? Not me) And pls make the reader mean, I love mean femdoms sm, they are chefs kiss. If you need more clarification post it I’ll send another one idk but I’m just seeing what YOU come up with. LOVE UR WRITING btw I love how it’s pretty in character tbh cuz I read ur bully Leon one and I was like “yeah fr like he’s too caring to be a bully 💀”

OMG WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ADD: you said smth so mean to him that he came too early. He was so sorry for coming early and the mess he made in you But then he continued to keep going trying to pump more- OK SORRY

the BEST?? idk about that but i shall take ur compliment and deliver to you only my best work so thank u bestie i appreciate it sm !! ^-^

las plagas is crazy cuz like the black veins, the loss of control with your physical body, the pain it causes… that’s literally so hot. leon was so fuckable all of re4 but especially in the scenes where his body is being controlled that man is SCRUMPTIOUS

also just so you know. the veins on his dick are black as well ♡

no pronouns mentioned, afab parts mentioned, plaga leon has to be a top im sorry (technically in straight relationships men are always topping unless u count pegging BUT in this context i mean he’s a top more like ‘he’s a sub but he’ll fuck u stupid’ like that’s the vibe)

you spot his blonde hair from across the hall, running over to him excitedly. thank god you found him.

“leon!” you call out, grabbing the attention of the man in question, as you catch up to him. finally finding him in this nightmarish place after getting separated was the best thing possible, “holy crap, i’m so- i’m so glad you’re okay— woah, what… what happened to you?”

he takes a cautious step back, still seemingly holding a little bit of control over his body, “they said it was a gift in my…. my blood… don’t know what the fuck that was about..”

you take a step forward, reaching out your hand to touch his face, fingers tracing the black lines that were once veins invisible to the naked eye. but he stops you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist, “don’t.”

“don’t… what?” you ask nervously, shoulders slumped.

“you need to… stay away from me,” he groans from pain, and you’re too worried to listen to his words, “stop, get away from me, you— i could hurt you! i don’t want to hurt you…”

but you don’t listen to him, betraying his wishes by shaking off his grip and reaching your hand out again. he can’t try to stop you this time. he moans, actually moans, when your fingertips touch his face, caressing him softly.

“really? it’s that good?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. leon thinks he could die.

“f-fuck…” he mumbles, finally coming closer to you. his hands wrap around your waist as he leans in for a kiss that you’re not ready for, and you both stumble backwards while you try to ground yourself.

he’s getting rough, aggressive, and you need to push back a little or else he’ll consume you entirely. not that you’d mind.

“leon, ease up,” you whisper, pushing him back slightly, and when a growl escapes his throat, you know he’s clearly not in any state to listen, “leon.”

he annoyedly makes eye contact with you, trying his best to listen to what you’re about to say. he is trying, and that’s the worst part. this is him at his most gentle, most restrained.

“you need to listen to me, okay? can you do that?” you ask softly, hand against his chest to keep him from diving too deep into you, and pressing a kiss to his lips. it’s softer. he moans into your mouth needily, but you don’t let him get rough. instead you sweetly get the taste of him. sure, it’s not a delicious taste, but he’s a delicious experience.

you enjoy the way he’s trying so intensely to control and contain himself, for your sake. he knows what you want from him is not his full fledged desires out in the open, completely unchecked.

when you pull away, he looks wrecked already, “please, you can’t do this to me, not if you’re just going to walk away and leave me desperate.”

part of you wants to reassure him. i’m not going to leave you. i would never abandon you when you need me most. but the other part just wants to ravage him, take all of him for yourself, leave nothing of him left but the perfection you’ve created. perfection in your eyes. maybe he’s not the only one infected with some kind of tainted desire.

instead, to accomplish both, you kiss him again, letting your own intensity and desire take over, potentially overpowering his. he whimpers, his shaky hands holding your hips for stability. he’s not being grossly possessive and rough like before. he’s softer now, pliable.

when you pull away, you whisper, “we need to get somewhere safe.”

“wha… what?”

“i need to take my time with you, and we’re not safe out in the open like this…” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to that sweet spot right below his ear. it’s so cute how truly weak leon is right now. sure, that’s always been his weakness, but it’s elevated multiple times over by this parasite in his blood. you have half the mind to thank that weird cult.

when you find a safe room, you’re immediately back on him, pushing him against the wall, enjoying the way he whimpers as you kiss him, his need for you multiplying by the minute.

“please, please, i need you, i need you so fucking bad, please, i need to take you, need to make you mine, need to—”

“shut up,” you groan, fingers roughly grabbing his jaw, pushing his head back and away from you, “you’re going to be good, or you won’t get what you want. i don’t care how badly you fucking need me, you’re going to be patient. you’re going to be nice and obedient or you’ll get nothing from me. and that little parasite inside of you is horrified at the idea that you won’t get to fuck my pretty pussy, hm?”

he looks pathetic, moaning like a whore at just some words, but it’s the way you say them, the way you say them, that kills him. he eventually calms himself down enough to nod with his eyes shut tightly, “i’ll do whatever you say. you know that.”

“lay down on the floor,” you command, almost growling back at him, and he opens his eyes in surprise.

“what?”

“you heard me. on the ground, beneath me, right now, leon,” your eyes narrow at him, enjoying the way he weakly sinks to his knees before sitting down completely and laying back.

“like this..?” he asks, confused. he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, and that excites him immensely.

you take off your belt with all your utility tools and your jeans along with it. then finally, your underwear. he looks up at you with wide, delicious eyes.

he asks so sweetly, even though he knows the answer, “are you… are you gonna make me..?”

“yeah, you are. i’m going to sit down on your pretty, pretty face and you’re going to enjoy every second of being beneath me, where you belong, servicing me, and making me cum.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of belonging beneath you, “yeah, fuck, okay—”

“—and you’re not going to fucking talk until i cum, got it?”

he nods, and once you sit down upon your throne, he gets right to work. he laps up the fluids of your cunt like a dog, working tirelessly, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. this is his place. he deserves nothing more than to be here with you, caving to your every desire even if all of his thoughts include breeding you and getting you pregnant with his babies. he’d do anything you asked if he could just have that.

he’d be at your service, at your mercy, until you chose to give him what he wanted.

but he makes you cum so fucking hard that it’s impossible to not give him what he wants, especially when rough hands grab onto your thighs as you’re cumming and he’s still giving you the head of your life through your orgasm. he grabs you just to stabilize you, but also to be possessive.

he can’t help how bad he’s gotten about jealousy and possessiveness with this parasite. he’s never been the jealous boyfriend, knowing you could hold your own and you’re loyal and stuff, but something about the way he looks at you now is different. it’s deep and primal. he looks at you like he needs to have you, and no one else can.

it’s insanely hot, but it’s also inconceivable how uncontrollable those urges are. leon has good self control, and you notice it in how he’s acting. again, this is him at his most restrained. he’s trying to keep himself from pouncing on you, taking everything he wants from you because he knows you don’t want that.

somewhere deep inside of him, he’s still himself, still that awkward and dorky guy that just wants to love you and give you everything you want. you wouldn’t want that.

when you roll off of him, laying down next to him to give yourself a moment to recover, you press a kiss to his shoulder, a sign that it’s an act, your harshness isn’t real. he returns the gesture by kissing the top of your head. a sign that he acknowledges your motives.

“please,” he whimpers suddenly, startling you out of your daze as his hand caresses your back softly, “i’ll let you control everything, you can do whatever you want with me, but fucking please, i’m so desperate to put my cock inside of your pussy, baby. i can’t think straight, and i’m trying so damn hard to control myself but i won’t be able to much longer…”

“yeah? you wanna put your cock inside of me? feel it throb inside the wetness and warmth of my cunt, fill me up with—”

he cuts you off with a loud moan, his hands grasping onto you and his eyes shutting tightly at the thought of such pleasure. he looks wrecked at the mere mention of cumming inside of you. you obviously have to capitalize on this fact.

“oh? so it’s the filling me up part, isn’t it? the ‘gift’ you have makes you really want to cum inside me, hm?” you say, smirking cruelly at him, watching his resolve crumble as he moans shamelessly, “do you want… breed me, leon?”

he gasps, breathing heavily. he’s incredibly wound up, and now you know the real reason he’s insatiable and uncontrollable, “f-fuck, i— it’s not that i want to, it’s that i need to… i need to fuck you and breed you so damn bad, i—”

you cover his mouth with the palm of your hand, enjoying the way he groan in pleasure when you straddle him. god, he’s not even inside of you, but he looks fucked out. he looks he’s about to burst already.

“god, you’re so fucking desperate,” you mumble to him, leaning in closer to whisper to him despite having him muzzled with your hand. not that he’d ever hurt you, he would never even imagine it, “you’re going to fuck me stupid, okay? you’re going to fuck me until my legs go numb and i can’t feel anything but you… and only when i tell you you can, you’ll breed me, fuck your cum even deeper into me and not let any of it escape. understood?”

he breathes shakily, not responding. obviously you forgot you have your hand over his mouth. when you take it off, he nervously says, “got it. i’ll… i’ll be good. i’ll make you feel so good.”

your voice is dark, cruel, full of malicious intent, “you fucking better, or i won’t let you cum. you’ll get to fuck me, sure, but i won’t ever give you the satisfying orgasm your body is desperately aching for. you won’t get to fill me up, and all you’ll have left to fuck for your little orgasm is your hand.”

his heart aches. the idea of disappointing you makes him feel a physical pit of nervousness in his stomach, the same ones he felt when he was more like himself. he just wants to feel like himself again.

“g-got it,” he whimpers. you get off of him, and he’s got you pinned immediately, gently resting you against the ground he was previously laying on. the image of you beneath him has him breathless. he feels like he’s worshipping a god with every move he makes.

he slides his cock into you, groaning at how easy it is, how wet you are. he bottoms out almost immediately, enjoying the way your body wraps around him in almost every sense. he silently adores you. he loves that you want him, crave him just like he craves you. that underneath all of your dominance, you’re his lover too.

fuck, he’s starting to feel possessive again. he beings to thrust into you, his body moving faster than either of you can handle, but you keep your cool better than he does.

“don’t let yourself start to think you’re in control,” you murmur, leaning up to press your lips to his shoulder, baring your teeth but not hard enough to draw blood. just enough to remind him of his place, “you belong to me. not the other way around, got it?” you growl into his ear.

he can’t even respond, too enraptured by your body and the feeling of your control over him leaving him a shuddering mess.

and you can’t even deny it. he’s putting in the work, thumb playing your with your clit just like how he knows you like, and clearly he’s getting the results he’s looking for. his body comes closer to the edge sooner than he’d like, but he tries to stave it off, for your sake.

still leaning into him, you whisper in your darkest voice, “maybe i should leave you like this, so you can stay this desperate… for me. i would try and cure you, but… not sure if i really care anymore.”

he shudders, voice giving out on him as he tries to plead with you. he cums without warning, obviously his body did it without the consent and go-ahead of his conscious mind. he already looks embarrassed at cumming without your permission. you don’t really have the mind to care right now, but you remember it for.. later.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck, leon, give it to me, give in to your cravings, your desires, your needs,” you moan in his ear, desperate for him, only him, and he’s yours, he’s all yours, it’s all he’s ever been and all he’ll ever be. he keep fucking you even after cumming, keeping you filled up, pushing it deeper, “make me yours.”

and he has no choice but to comply.

#sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #sub!leon #re4 leon #re4r #re4 #re4 remake #re4r leon

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amhrosina · 11 months

Note

please i need more miguel smut. you’re single-handedly the best Miguel writer i’ve found.

Miguel with an oral obsession? Maybe a thing with over-marking?

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: here's a literal porn drabble that i couldn't get out of my head once i got this ask lol i have gotten a huge influx of requests so im going to be working my way through those over the next few days, also forcing everyone ive ever met to see the spiderverse movie with me, hope you enjoy!

warnings: oral fixation, oral (fem receiving), it is literally ALL smut, edging, overstimulation, squirting, biting kink, let me know if i missed any!

Smut directly under the cut!

“Shh, shh, shh, cariño. You can do it. Give me another one, honey.”

Miguel’s face was contorted into a mask of pure concentration. He held a predatory gaze on the slickness between your thighs, pumping two fingers in and out of your tight cunt, which hadn’t stopped clenching around him since your second orgasm. You had lost count, blissed out on the euphoria of Miguel’s tongue and fingers working together harmoniously to undo you, but you had to be nearing four or five by now, a feat you were sure he would let go straight to his ego.

“I c-can’t.” You stuttered, momentarily allowing your exhaustion to catch up with you. You sunk into the comforter, squeezing your eyes closed. “‘ts too much.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You sure about that? You want me to stop, honey?” He began to pull his fingers out of you at a slow, tortuous pace, brushing the soft spot deep inside your pussy, enticing a choked moan from your throat.

You frantically shook your head, nearly in tears as you cried out. “No, no, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“That’s what I thought.” He grinned up at you before pressing a fleeting kiss to your clit, sending a spasm of pleasure directly up your spine. You arched off the bed, only to be shoved back down by Miguel’s thick, muscled shoulders. “You’re so wet, baby.”

His gaze had grown lusty again, and you nearly came from the look on his face alone. Mesmerized, completely enamored with the sight in front of him, he licked his lips before diving forward, connecting his mouth to your pussy for what you hoped wasn’t the last time of the evening.

The effect was immediate, pleasure shooting throughout your body, a dilating heat building deep in your core. His fingers were less intense, more focused on working with his tongue to coax the heat forward. Your thighs, which were considerably damp from your immense pleasure, shook with overstimulation against Miguel’s head.

“Oh.” You breathed, sucking in a large breath.

“Let me see your eyes, baby.” He purred, circling your clit with his dexterous tongue. “Wanna see them when you come, okay?”

You nodded, agreeing with him before he could finish his sentence. You barely heard him, so desperate to come that you would have agreed to just about anything coming out of his mouth. Almost immediately, his words slipped away from your mind. Your eyes slid closed, lost in the pleasure coursing throughout your body, and only opened again when the sharp prick of his fangs dug into your inner thigh.

“Miguel!” His name left your mouth in a combination of a moan and sob. He was licking the fresh wound, cleansing the ache, but staring at you intently as he did so.

“What did I just say?” He kissed the mark, but refused to return to his previous task of licking your soaked cunt.

“I-uh.” You blinked at him, trying your hardest to sort through the last five minutes in your mind, which was an exceptionally difficult task considering how close you’d been to coming all over his face moments before. “Um.” You added, unhelpfully.

His eyebrows twitched, watching your desperation grow as he continued his refusal to move. “You don’t remember?”

You shook your head, whimpering slightly when his deep sigh fanned his breath across your cunt. He smirked a little, shaking his head again.

“Hmm.” He said before tilting his chin and biting into a more sensitive patch of skin on your inner thigh. Euphoria blazed through your body, rising almost to the peak you were so desperate to reach. You were on the crux of an earth shattering orgasm, it was right there, but Miguel pulled his mouth away from the mark, smiling widely when you outright sobbed.

He did it again, and again, and again, edging you closer and closer to the brink before pulling away. He had to be running out a space, you thought deliriously as he sunk his fangs into your skin again. Panting moans echoed across the room. This wasn’t something you did often - Miguel almost never allowed himself to indulge - but when you did, it was euphoria like you’d never experienced before. You were high on the obscenity of it all, and the blown out pupils in his eyes were enough to tell you he was feeling it too.

His eyes.

“My eyes! When I come!” You yelped, finally remembering the words he’d uttered fifteen minutes prior.

“I knew you had it in you.” A satisfied smirk played on his lips. “Can I make you come now, honey?”

“Please.” You begged, sheer, unrelenting desperation clear in your voice.

He began licking your clit earnestly, seemingly beyond teasing or taunting you. His priority had shifted from building the fire in your core to fueling it. His fingers worked seamlessly with his tongue, pumping in and out of the tight hole with such precision, you were convinced he was born to be between your legs.

“Oh, God,” you gasped, clutching at Miguel’s shoulders, “I’m so c-close.”

“Mmm, I know, baby.” He hummed against your clit, “Doing so good for me. Look so pretty like this.”

You shuttered against him, trying your best to keep your eyes open and on him, though you were both so far gone at this point, you didn’t think it mattered. The fire in your belly had begun to spread, up, up, up, until every part of you was warm. Your orgasm came hurtling after it, shocking your system into euphoria, and you could do nothing but ride it out on Miguel’s tongue.

Seconds or minutes went by - time was tricky when you were this blissed out - but you finally came to, coated in sweat and panting heavily. Miguel was grinning wildly from between your legs, and as the Earth righted itself again, you realized how incredibly damp he looked.

“Oh. My. God.” You muttered, eyes widening with the realization of what you’d just done. “I didn’t mean to! How did- What did I- I’m so sorry!”

You’d never seen Miguel so elated.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He stated firmly, nuzzling against your thighs. “You magnificent creature. We’re doing that again as soon as you can handle it.”

You shook with anticipation, unsure if Miguel would ever let you leave your bed again. You didn’t think you minded if he didn’t.

Tag List:

@foxglove-grove @anthonymackiehasmyheart @khaleesihavilliard @paranoia666-blog1 @minnerra @shibble @mageneire @reypolaris @lavnderluv @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @chaoticevilbakugo @weasleybuns @brookiecookiez0

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shmaba · 11 months

Text

I’m going to assume that at this point you’ve all seen Critical Role’s new show Candela Obscura and at least skimmed through the Quickstart Guide (you have done all that riiiight??) So I wanted to compile all the things I’ve done that have been shown so far. Its long so read below the line!

I’m going to try to avoid spoilers. So feel free to read without worry. I’m also going to try and avoid breaking any NDA like a good professional. So I will not be doing some deep dive behind the scenes thing. Only visuals that have already been publicly shared are going to be on here

The very first thing I did on this show was the concepts for the main set. Everything is practical. Nothing is green screen or cg or whatever. Some people think it’s just good cg but nope that's all real. You could touch it! (don’t touch it, there are ghosts)

There were multiple iterations on the design, each with their own vibe and statement piece. CR narrowed it down to what you see in the show: a sort of storage hall with an odd clock contraption behind the GM. I think I called this design version the “Abyssal Hall” or something like that (I gave the different versions names to better keep track of which design was being discussed)

The company Flip This Bitch built the physical set. They turned my silly little art into a real thing. So they did all the actual magic of making this set come together in the end! They deserve a lot of the credit for it looking so good in the end.

Also that little piece of art in the bottom left of the preshow is a section from the final concept art of the set.

That contraption behind Matt is based on astrolabes and clocks. This isn’t really meant to be a literal astrolabe or a clock as we would use them in our world. Narratively this isn’t a device that measures either of the things that a traditional astrolabe or clock does. This is a special magickal tool that does a secret third thing.

Also I did concepts for the GM screen. You don't really see it besides in the fancy-shmancy preshow. There were a number of more intricate designs for it but CR went with the simpler option since the only part that would be visible on stream is the top, so that's where I put the most detail.

I should also note that I did not design the logo! It’s pretty prominent on the GM screen but I was supplied an already existing logo for this.

NEXT is the Taliesin enclosure set that you see in the trailer. This is actually meant to be like the lantern room on the top of a lighthouse, minus the big light beacon (You could say Taliesin is the beacon).

Also in the trailer you see a couple brief sketches I did for some world building concepts:

Speaking of sketches there are a number of art pieces of mine in the Quickstart guide

A lot of my art is sketches. They’re all meant to be like notes and drawings from members of Candela as they travel and notate their findings. Most of the notes on these sketches are my actually my notes when I was doing world building concepts, but they replaced my handwriting with a font because my handwriting sucks lmao (also likely for ease of future localization).

Also the cover of the Quickstart guide uses line art of a part of that astrolabe clock set piece. This line art was part of the deliverables that was sent over to Flip This Bitch for construction. They’re just using pieces of those set concepts everywhere!

As you can see I’ve done a lot of art for this project. I was part of this project when it was still early in development. It’s changed quite a bit from where we started.

I wasn’t the only one that made all this art happen though. Other artists, writers, and designers got to add their own vision to this. It was very much a collaborative effort that took a long time to happen. It’s very exciting to see everyone’s hard work come to fruition and there is a lot more to come!

#candela obscura #critical role #my art #ttrpg #illustration #art #cr #candela spoilers #I could say a lot about what went into each thing #but that would be too long #this is already too long #more art is coming #you’ll see it in the final release of the rules/setting book #also it’s very likely a significant amount of art won’t ever be show to the public #such is the life of a concept artist

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shittyakechiweekly · 25 days

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Thinking about Akechi and philosophy again. Particularly his mention/very superficial glaze over hegelian dialectics. It's really weird to me that some people seem to go "he misquoted hegel sjjsjsjsjkaks" and then give an explanation of dialectics that shows that... they don't fuckin understand dialectics fully themselves.

Which is understandable considering Hegel was an idealist and idealism tends to require some weird logic to understand. (Akechi seems to in canon reference a lot of idealists which is hhhh, so I depict him as a materialist out of spite) I also haven't fuckin read Hegel myself, so I can't perfectly explain hegelian dialectics. However, I can sure explain dialectical materialism to an extent cause i've done my homework there at least. And like having an understanding of dialectics in general is a key part to understanding that crap. So I look at this quote right

this one? and im like well, in explaining dialectics he aint fuckin wrong. Now did Hegel explicitly state this? Idk, i don't feel like cracking open the 300 pager that is The Phenomenology of the Spirit right now. It's 1AM. And if he didn't, that is okay. Look, Karl Marx didn't fuckin explicitly explain dialectical materialism either. We still credit it to him though, since it is the method he designed and used. Also if you're wondering where thesis and antithesis comes from, it's from Kant. Kant is one of the many that influenced Hegel.

Moving on to the actual paraphrase. Again, Akechi ain't wrong. Contradiction exists in all things, and yes to advance you must resolve the contradiction. This is where people who bring up the "Akechi forgot the synthesis!" get kind of on my nerves because he didn't. One cannot have advancement(synthesis), without resolving the preexisting contradiction (thesis and antithesis). Hell! even if you ditch the idea of synthesis, he could still be right about dialectics, just not hegelian dialectics. Akechi uses the term advancement, which allows us to play with the possibility that maybe his approach to dialectics is through marxist dialectics. A synthesis, in the constant motion of the dialectic, would become another thesis with it's own antithesis and then fuse into another synthesis. The pattern continues. In dialectical materialism, we see that 1) multiple contradictions can exist simultaneously, and 2) That change occurs not by fusion of the thesis and antithesis, but when the intensity and opposition of the contradiction grows until it bursts into a new contradiction. Although, Akechi is talking about hegel to paraphrase the general concept of the dialectic, and could be purposefully using "advancement" instead of synthesis to highlight the constant motion of the dialectic, but maybe to obfuscate what kind of dialectical method he puts more stock in. Dialectical materialism can kind of be like dirty word in philosophical spheres because it is marxist. I doubt the writers for the game could get away with it either, considering the kind of ending message the game was given.

But also like I doubt the writers did a super deep dive into dialectics. And it would be kind of weird to have a game where there is literally an immaterial world based entirely on thought, start using a materialist dialectical method instead of an idealist one. Even then for a simple throwaway comment about dialectics, it is still accurate enough.

Anyways, I'm not a philosopher. I'm a sociologist and an artist. My fiance is the philosopher, and I fully expect them to correct my ass on some parts in the replies if they see this post.

#akechi goro #p5 #ahhh hegel #This fuckin quote is a big part of why I think me and my fiance got together #cause i mentioned hegel and they were like #“you know hegel?!?!?!”#but yeah #long post #i need to sleep #persona 5 #goro akechi

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fantasyinallforms · 8 months

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Let's talk about this scene. It's one of the most popular, and the writers and actors knew exactly what they were doing when they filmed it. This is going to be a LONG, long post because I will be breaking down and analyzing looks as well as dialog. Don't worry, I will add in a cut! Let's start with the look on Bilbo's face. Specifically, I've slowed the GIF down so you can get a good look at his face.

Bilbo stated quite clearly to Gandalf the night before this that he was not afraid of Thorin, but he is not so naive as to think that he will stay in Thorin's good graces after this. Hitched breath, sluggish movement, rapid blinking, and a look of dread on his face. This is a funeral march for whatever future might have been brewing over the course of the journey.

Thorin, by comparison, is almost slow to comprehend. There is doubt about what he is hearing written all over his features. He shakes his head and says "you" like he expected to turn around and see someone else standing there using Bilbo's voice. What I really want to get at is the conversation right after. Because it's always struck me that Thorin and Bilbo are not having the same conversation with each other.

"I took it as my fourteenth share," followed immediately by "You would steal from me?"

Now, it's, of course, important to note that Thorin is at peak dragon sickness at the moment and not in his right mind. That said, Bilbo stealing something from him was truly the last thing he could have possibly imagined happening. He suspected his kin less than a day ago but never Bilbo. I've said this in a previous deep dive, but the way that the dragon sickness reconciled Thorin's love for Bilbo and the gold was to place them in the same category. You don't expect what is entirely yours to be capable of theft. We're going to skip ahead slightly in the next GIF.

Ok, so this is where we start to see the conversation diverge. Bilbo says, "Steal from you? No, no. I'm a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one." Clearly trying to articulate to Thorin and the entire company that he didn't do this as a betrayal or out of greed. Thorin's response is chilling and very telling.

In the first GIF, I have no subtitles because I want you to look at his face, not what he's saying. This is the laughter and smile of a madman who just had the last thread tethering him from true madness cut. He descends very quickly from here.

Now, "You have no claim over me" is a very strong statement. In his mind, the gold is his and bound to him in every way. Bilbo, after this, is desperate. His words are desperate, and his expression is desperate. But what's more heartbreaking is the look in Thorn's eyes. Like the real Thorin is trapped behind those pretty blues, helpless to do anything.

Then, finally, after all of this, we have the full snap. The final break.

"Throw him from the ramparts."

This single line gives us probably the most heartbreaking look in the entire movie. To me, even more so than Thorin's death. This is the true "end" the final break. Bilbo's head was bent low. He was willing to take the vitriol the hate. He understood where it was coming from and was prepared for it. But those 5 words ended everything. Thorin is gone, and Bilbo knows that now.

We haven't seen true fear in Bilbo. Not once. The closest we got was when he was about to charge an orc but even that was not fear alone. There was determination and resolve that colored his expression.

That last hollow look in Bilbo's eyes is properly terrified yet if I had to name this GIF I wouldn't name it terror I would name it

Loss.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #Deep Dive

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goodnightoilcountry · 12 days

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jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

* updated thursday 25 april 2024 *

weekly note: so, i've sadly had to remove summaries of each fic to make way for new fics. i'm going to think of a solution to work around this, but whatever i do, this will still remain the masterlist for my fic recs!

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - sunkissed: pt 1, pt 2 & pt 3 (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - all the pretty girls (pyotr kotchetkov) by @unluckyhoneybee

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites

monday morning (nathan mackinnon) by @matthewtkachuk

colorado (for the first time) (nathan mackinnon) by @withwritersblock

FLORIDA PANTHERS

subtle (matthew tkachuk) by @hockey-hoe-24-7 word count: 3.1k

you say you hate me (matthew tkachuk) by @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

all for you (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and one time matty did it for you): pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (matthew tkachuk) by @comphersjost

4 times you fake a relationship + 1 time you didn't (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

4 times you didn;t find the one + 1 time you did (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

homecoming (matthew tkachuk) by @doc-pickles

NEW JERSEY DEVS

gin, tonic, and tequila shots (jack hughes) by @hockey-fics

stay the night (jack hughes) by @eyesthatroll

everybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush (jack hughes) by @sunkissed-zegras

invisible string (luke hughes) by @hugshughes

tidal wave (luke hughes) by @babydollmarauders

drops of jupiter: pt 1 & pt 2 (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

breakable heaven series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanide

hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium

second best (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanideA

my heart's racing, and it isn't the exercise (luke hughes) by @sunnyskiesscareme

head start (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

first rule of fight club (jack hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

valentines (nico hischier) by @hischierdevils

reaching out (jack hughes) by @bedsyandco

clumsy (jack hughes) by @babydollmarauders

a walk down memory lane (jack hughes) by @letsgetrowdy43

lover of mine (nico hischier) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

you're not the one (nico hischier) by @ladylooch

moth to a flame (jack hughes & trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey

when the party's finally over: pt 1 & pt2 (jack hughes) by @itsjusthockey

NEW - off limits: pt 1 & pt 2 (nico hischier) by @hischierhoney

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

five times everyone knew mat loved you & the one time mat realized himself (mathew barzal) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

bad luck charm (mathew barzal) by @matwith1t

show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks

to all the girls you've loved before: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6 (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

it's nice to have a friend (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

we've come so far baby (mathew barzal) by @mendeshoney

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

lucky (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did (quinn hughes) by @mrsensitive

5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts

NEW - home (brock boeser) by @bedsyandco

NEW - nothing but love (quinn hughes) by @starry-hughes

NEW - can i be close to you? (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

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hayatheauthor · 7 months

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Crafting Character Voices And Distinct Dialogue

A well-crafted character voice can breathe life into your narrative, making readers feel as if they're eavesdropping on real people. Each character's dialogue should be as distinctive as their fingerprints, reflecting their personality, background, and motivations.

Creating distinctive character voices is one of the first things I learned in my creative writing lessons. Whether you're a seasoned writer or just starting, understanding how to create authentic and unique character voices is a crucial skill. So, here’s my guide on how to personalise your dialogue.

Understanding Your Characters

To craft dialogue that resonates, you must first get to know your characters inside and out. Dive deep into their psyche, exploring their backgrounds, beliefs, values, and desires. What drives them? What keeps them up at night? Understanding these intricacies is the foundation upon which you'll build their unique voices.

Additionally, consider their primary language or dialect. A character from Italy, for example, might have a different vocabulary and speech patterns than someone from India. For instance, an Italian character may use phrases or expressions unique to their culture, adding depth and authenticity to their voice. This not only provides cultural richness but also enhances the character's individuality.

Creating Distinctive Speech Patterns

Once you've delved into your characters' backgrounds and cultural influences, it's time to work on their speech patterns. Think of this as giving each character their own linguistic fingerprint. Here are some key elements to consider:

Unique Vocabulary: Each character should have a vocabulary that reflects their education, interests, and experiences. A well-read character might use more complex words, while a simpler character may prefer everyday language.

Sentence Structures: Pay attention to how characters structure their sentences. Some may favor long, flowing sentences, while others opt for brevity. This reflects their thought processes and personality.

Idioms and Colloquialisms: Characters from specific regions or backgrounds might use regional idioms or colloquial expressions. For example, a Texan character might say, "fixin' to" instead of "intending to."

Influences from Native Language: If your character speaks more than one language, consider how their native language influences their speech in another language. They might occasionally switch to their native language for emphasis or use idiomatic expressions from that language.

Accents and Pronunciation: If your character has a distinct accent, consider how this affects their pronunciation of words. You can subtly convey accents through dialogue without overdoing it, using phonetic spelling sparingly.

Tone Tags: Incorporating tone tags (e.g., nervously, confidently, sarcastically) can convey the character's emotions and attitudes during a conversation. These tags help readers understand the subtext of the dialogue.

Imagine a character named Maria, who hails from Mexico. She might use Spanish phrases when speaking English to emphasize her cultural background. Her speech could be peppered with warmth and expressions of hospitality, reflecting her upbringing.

Dialogue Tags and Character Expressions

Dialogue tags and character expressions are invaluable tools for conveying the nuances of character voices. They add layers to your characters' speech, giving readers insight into their emotions, intentions, and personalities.

While "said" is often your best friend because it's unobtrusive, don't hesitate to mix in other tags to convey mood and tone. For instance, instead of always using "said," consider alternatives like "whispered," "shouted," "murmured," or "replied." Choose tags that align with the character's demeanor and the context of the conversation.

Character expressions and actions:

Non-Verbal Communication

Beyond dialogue tags, describe how characters express themselves physically while speaking. Actions, gestures, and facial expressions can reveal a lot about a character's emotional state or their intentions. If a character nervously tugs at their collar while speaking, it conveys anxiety. If another character smirks while delivering a line, it hints at their amusement or mischief.

Using tone tags:

Incorporate tone tags like "nervously," "confidently," "sarcastically," or "gently" to clarify the character's tone of voice. These adverbs provide crucial context to the dialogue, helping readers understand the character's emotional state.

Social Influence

Remember that a character's social background can significantly influence their speech. For instance, a character from a wealthy background might use more formal language and have a refined way of speaking. They might avoid slang or contractions. In contrast, a character from a less privileged background might use colloquialisms, contractions, and have a more relaxed speech style.

Balancing character expressions and tags can breathe life into your dialogues, making them engaging and memorable for readers. Use them strategically to punctuate and emphasize key moments in your characters' conversations.

Balancing Consistency and Evolution

As you craft your characters' dialogue, it's crucial to strike a balance between consistency and evolution. Characters should maintain their unique voices throughout the story, but they can also grow and change.

Consistency is key to character integrity. Readers should be able to recognize a character's voice from the beginning to the end of your story.

To achieve this create a character profile that includes detailed notes on their speech patterns, vocabulary, and idiosyncrasies. Refer back to your character profile whenever writing dialogue to ensure you stay true to their voice.

However, characters, like real people, can evolve and change over time. Events, experiences, and personal growth can influence how they speak. To reflect this evolution gradually introduce changes in their speech as they undergo character development. You can also use dialogue to convey their changing perspectives, priorities, or emotions.

For example, a shy character might start using more assertive language as they gain confidence throughout the story. Their evolution should feel natural and in line with their character arc.

By maintaining consistency while allowing for evolution, you can create dynamic and believable character voices that resonate with your readers.

Dialogue Exercises and Practice

First things first, get to know your characters like you're catching up with an old friend. Dive into their quirks, fears, what makes them tick, and what ticks them off. Once you've got a handle on that, it's time to let them speak their minds. Ever heard of character monologues? It's like giving your characters a stage to shine. Let them ramble, vent, or reminisce—it's like therapy for both you and your character.

Now, let's talk duets. Imagine pairing up two characters from different walks of life for a conversation. It's like a linguistic showdown, and you're the ringmaster. See how they bounce off each other, and you'll bring out their unique voices like a pro.

Last but not least, voice journals. Think of it as a diary for your characters. Let them jot down their innermost thoughts and feelings. It's like having a backstage pass to their minds.

Remember, mastering character dialogue is a journey, not a sprint. Your characters will evolve, and so will your knack for making their voices stand out.

Avoiding Stereotypes and Clichés

When creating character voices it's important to avoid those clichéd, overused character stereotypes. We've all seen them: the tough-as-nails detective with a whiskey habit, or the ditzy cheerleader who cares more about lipstick than world affairs.

As writers, our mission is to create characters that feel fresh, real, and relatable. So, let's steer clear of the tired old tropes and explore the vast spectrum of humanity.

Instead of falling into the trap of predictable character traits, dig deeper. Ask yourself: What makes your character tick? What are their quirks and passions? Sure, your character might be a brilliant scientist, but what sets them apart from every other lab coat-wearing genius out there?

Diversity is your friend here. Embrace the rich tapestry of human experiences and backgrounds. Give your characters unique voices that reflect their individuality, and you'll create characters that resonate with readers on a whole new level.

I hope this blog on Crafting Character Voices will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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leavesdriftinginthewind · 1 year

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I think what pisses me off most about the Wednesday fandom is that so many are intentionally ignoring the fact that Tyler is MEANT to be a tragic character because he is a Hyde. We basically have it beaten over our heads that Hydes are the outcasts of outcasts, deemed too difficult to help, and therefore abandoned and left to their own devices, basically giving them no way to NOT be tortured into being someone’s slave or ultimately having something tragic or awful happen to them that forces out their Hyde and leaving them to become a monster and/or get killed.

So many people blame Tyler for every bad thing that happened in this first season when he LITERALLY had no option but to do exactly as Laurel wished. He was TOLD to go murder the people he murdered, he was TOLD to get Wednesday to trust him, he was TOLD to go after Eugene, he had no CHOICE but to obey, it’s literally in the show’s lore. And we are both told AND shown what lengths Laurel went to to literally torture this teenage boy into becoming a monster that was FORCED to obey her. Not only that, but all that “mama” talk and physical touch is gag-worthy. SHE is the true monster who wanted everyone dead, and she ruined that boy’s life to try and get what she wanted. And the show INTENTIONALLY shows AND tells you all that.

We are SHOWN how Tyler was chained, beaten, poisoned to bring the Hyde out, to become Laurel’s perfect slave. And still so many see HIM as the “true villain,” stating that if he was truly “good” he never would’ve done all he did. Meanwhile the lore has TOLD you, Hydes have no choice. But WAY too many disregard this plot point entirely simply because they see it as something to cling to for their preferred ship to happen. That’s infuriating to me, truly. Not only from a standpoint of really loving Tyler as a character, but also from a standpoint of it being apparent to ME of where the story is going, and knowing that so much of the fandom is gonna be pissed off about it because it’s Tyler-centric.

We are given so much information about “Hydes have been banned from Nevermore for 30 years,” “Faulkner was studying Hydes but he died before he could finish his research,” “nobody knows for sure if, once unlocked, Hydes are only monsters or if the person they were is still in there.” Between all this within the narrative itself and Hunter talking about how he’s excited to explore the duality of the Real Tyler versus the Hyde next season, I think it’s obvious that Wednesday and Tyler are basically going to get to the bottom of this “are Hydes all 100% bad and dangerous” problem themselves, and the result of their research will probably get Hydes accepted back into Nevermore.

Wednesday already knows how unjust the whole system is, she mentions it FREQUENTLY in the first season. Once she gets past feeling betrayed by what happened in season one, it’s likely going to weigh on her that someone she cared about deeply enough to bring her walls down for, to actually seek out to KISS, was so hurt by this system that he ended up doing all he did. And Tyler is inevitably returning, the writers have talked about how we’re going to learn more about Tyler and explore his true feelings for Wednesday. They’ll be brought back together, no doubt. And thus, the deep dive on Hydes will probably begin.

I don’t care what you ship, I don’t even care if you really LIKE Tyler as a character, but I DO care that so many have made him out to be a pure villain simply because that suits their own personal narrative better, and makes them feel like it’s more likely their preferred ship will win the “war.” Like, try and WATCH a show, actually WATCH it, and not simply cling to bits and pieces that suit the storyline you’ve made up in your head. You’re SUPPOSED to hate LAUREL, you’re supposed to, at the very least, wonder if the Real Tyler is still in there, if he can be helped, and you are SUPPOSED to feel some pity for the boy who was forced into becoming an enslaved monster.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

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Hobie Brown & Non-Conventional Relationships

How to Write Hobie in Non-Conventional Relationships - & How I incorporate it into my own writing

{Non-Conventional Relationship Abbreviated as NCR}

This is Part 2 - Check out Part 1 here if you want! Hobie Brown is unconventional is every way - and he likes it that way. From his music to his views, Hobie is always ready to challenge the norm - choosing to look for healthier, kinder, and freer alternatives.

And that extends to his romantic relationships too.

I talked HERE about Non-Conventional Relationships, the lack of them in fics, what they could look like for Hobie, and how they're a reflection of his values - including his feminism.

In that one, I wanted to talk about why Hobie needs Non-Conventional Relationships, and I analyzed why NCRs are so scarce within the Hobie fandom (hint: it's sexism). I also spoke about how I purposely designed my Spidersona - DiscoSpider Diane - with subversion of a sexist trope in mind, and how we as a fandom can write healthier 'Y/N's.

But I also wanted to talk about - and give clear examples of how a NCR might work for Hobie, and how to write it in fanfiction.

This is a Writer's Guide to writing Hobie Brown in NCRs, and writing 'Y/N's that challenge the norm. As well as how I apply these tips directly in my own writing with Hobie.

[I offer tips and writing advice as well as the ways I use these tips in my writing. I touch on alternative forms of affection, intimacy, polyamory, independence, and labels] Heads Up!! This post is LONG and Detailed. At the end, I have a full deep dive and analysis of my Spidersona DiscoSpider Diane, Hobie, and their NCR - feel free to pass on that if you want or check it out if you're curious or want an example :)

I hope someone out there finds this helpful or at the very least, entertaining! With that said,

Let's Begin~~~~~~~~

Hobie Brown & Affection:

Showing and valuing alternative forms of affection can be a great foundation for Non-Conventional Relationships. There's a wide array of ways to express affection in a relationship - ranging from full on playfulness and messing with each other - to being romantic but only in private. And anywhere in between. In order to challenge stereotypical romance, here's where we can start.

First things first: Cut the generic pet names One of the most common things across all Hobie fics, are generic pet-names. It's hard to find a fic without one 'luv', 'darlin', or 'sweetheart'. And it makes sense, it romantic - and a classic way to show affection. But it can be easy to use these terms as a crutch to infuse romance into dialogue. A good way to diverge from this convention is by dropping the generic pet-names all together. By abandoning words like 'luv' and 'darlin' we're forcing ourselves to find more personal terms for him to call his partner. Hobie calls Gwen and Miles personalized pet-names, and this can extend to his partner too. These names can be personal - When writing OCs, you can use things like inside jokes, a shortened version of their name, or some form of rhyming slang. Having something happen within the story that Hobie pulls a nickname from is also a great idea, or having him call them by a defining trait or something tongue in cheek. [Like if your character is known for being a bit gloomy, have him call them sunshine. If they sing, he can call them songbird, etc.] When writing xReaders, you can subvert typically 'negative' terms into loving and playful names. For example, if the !Reader is portrayed as shy, he may loving call her Mouse Whisper. If they're hotheaded, he may just call them 'hot-head'. But by having personalized pet-names, the reader is shown that Hobie and them have history and past connections that Hobie finds meaningful.

Annoyance can be affection too I talked about this HERE We all love attention from our partners - some just seek it out in different ways. Annoying ways. And I can see Hobie being one to do this - Adorable, but annoying ways. Playfulness is a great way to substitute romance in NCR. We all know those relationships where they love messing with each other or pissing each other off. Having inside jokes about each other, or teasing in a way only the other person is allowed to. It's never mean, but in a way, a form of intimacy. And when romances are written like this, it shows that the two know each other well, down to the smallest things that make them tick. They know each other well, and have a clear soft spot for each other when one starts bugging the other and the other doesn't snap (lol). When writing, you can give them small pet peeves that Hobie may do to irk them. When writing OCs, Hobie can give them nicknames that irk them. Or point out things that annoy them. Maybe he likes a food they hate, and eats it in front of them all the time. It's all in good fun, and shows the two aren't shy around each other. You can also have them bring up embarrassing stories of each other, to show they're close and spend a lot of time together. When writing xReaders, you can have him popping up at the worst times, hanging off of the reader, and overall trying to distract them from what they're doing. He could also play light pranks to mess with the reader - and vice versa - always making sure to end it with a hug and a laugh. At the end of the day, it's all about getting their partners attention and playing around with them. And talking about that -

Touch as a Love Language: Don't be afraid of playfighting Some IRL couples playfight. And it can be adorable. If the pestering goes to far, then the reader finally has to give him all their attention - and they can playfight him. Which is what he wants, their attention. This is something that can be done with both OCs and xReaders - and if they're a Spider-person EVEN BETTER. Don't be afraid to have Hobie pick the reader up, having the reader jump on his back, or punch his arm lightly. Having them wrestle for something, and it can turn into cuddling. The character can jump on his back playfighting, and doom - Hobie's running and it's a sudden piggyback ride.

While on the topic of Love Languages: Laughter as a Love Language Laughter can be a HUGE love language. In addition to annoying their partner, some people aim to making their partner laugh whenever they can. Whether this be making jokes, or doing things they think are hilarious. Not only is is super playful - but it shows that they're close and know each other well. They know what they other think is funny, what's sure to get a laugh, and most importantly, when their partner needs it the most. It shows that they care about their partner's happiness, and they want to bait it out them every way they can - even if that means making themselves look silly from time to time again. This is one of my favorite tools when writing NCRs and it works for both OCs and xReader.

If really want to challenge yourself and show a new form of romance: Abandon 'I love you.' Ever heard of Han Solo and Princess Leia? The whole "I love you." - "I know." trope? Saying 'I love you' is of course one of the easiest ways to show love - but when we abandon it, we can find cuter and more personal things to replace it. In doing this we begin to show a NCR relationship that openly challenges romance. By doing away with 'I love you's in favor something personal, we're showing that their feelings go beyond 'love' into something more personal and intimate to them. They can still be madly in love and not say it - it can be completely unspoken cause they both know. And so, they don't take it too seriously. When writing OCs, you can replace the phrase completely, substituting it with a repeated phrase on both sides. "I hate you" also works as a playful subversion. When writing xReaders, you can have the other side not respond the usual way - "I love you." - "Uh-huh." Or you can have them not say it at all. And have it completely but clearly emotionally implied.

Hobie Brown & PDA:

Hobie is a natural touchy guy. He likes standing close to people, leaning over them and putting his hands on their shoulders. So by having him display limited romantic PDA with his partner, and treating them no different than anyone else, you're challenging the norm and forcing yourself to write other ways.

Prioritize Privacy Hobie is often (or rather only) characterized as a very open person with his relationship, openly kissing, making out, and touching his partner. And this is very typical of a romantic relationship. If you'd like to write a NCR you can try to challenge this. Hobie is from a police state, a world where surveillance is prevalent and freedom is limited. Plus he's a rockstar - people get nosey. And don't even get me start on The Society snooping. You can reflect this by having him prioritize privacy - either out of survival instinct, or just personal preference. Hobie keeping his relationship a secret, or simply not mentioning it, allows a freedom not often see in traditional relationships. By doing this, the relationship can develop naturally without typical pressures or outside influence - whether dangerous or Society wise. The two are allowed to take it as slow - or as fast as they want, without worrying about anyone else getting in the way. And with Hobie being a guy who likes to share often, him keeping one small thing to himself can be special. This can be used for both OCs and xReaders.

Keep Kisses in Private Stealing kisses can be extremely cute, and saving them for private can make them 10x more intimate. Plus this is another one that can be used by both OCs and xReaders. By saving kisses for private moments, those rare instances automatically become more intimate. And by having them restrain themselves, when they do finally get to be alone it can feel romantic (not just sexual). By having them save their kisses for only them, they become more special to Hobie and his partner. They may choose to not kiss at all in public and leave it at that or try to steal kisses when they can - or even substitute a different form of intimacy in place of kisses. Ever see that couple that one of them will walk by the other, and one person will put their hand in the other's for a moment as they pass by before letting go? Like that. Cheek kisses can also be a good substitute for public. Plus in the rare times they do kiss in front of someone, you can save it for super emotional or heated moments (or moments like parties, bars, etc - those are always fun. The gang finding out the two of you have been dating a year after you both get drunk at a party and make-out? Love it.)

Or you can take it over the top - and make it openly committed and intimate, but label-less. Having a partner he kisses, hugs and lives with but does not refer to as his girlfriend also challenges norms of possessiveness - bonus points if they're poly (which I'll touch on in a second). By having him clearly involved with someone, and seriously committed but having it between them can be a NCR. The character doesn't have to be his girlfriend or boyfriend. That can simply be 'his person' or 'the one'. Or he's 'seeing somebody' - or 'with them'. He's not outright saying they're dating, but yeah - they're solidly involved. They may have a kid together, sleep in the same bed, or say 'I love you', but by both parties rejecting labels, they're openly denying people an inside look to their relationship. Are they together? What's that got to do with you?

Or have them be 'life partners' aka - marriage without marriage. This one may be easier to develop for OCs, but can be done for xReaders too. Have them openly express interest in being each other's life long partners. Have them speak as if they're married, even if they aren't. By verbalizing this connection, they don't need rings or a wedding certificate to speak to them, because they openly say it as a form of PDA. Having them believe in soulmates, or 'other halfs' takes the 'caring boyfriend' trope and pushes it into something far more intimate and personal. This could include things like matching tattoos, sharing a home together, wearing things of each other's in place of a ring, etc.

Hobie, Labels, and Polymory (Open Relationships)

Every single fic I've seen of Hobie assumes both parties are monogamous. Let's challenge that.

Do away with the idea of Hobie and jealousy It's unrealistic for his character. Hobie is openly supportive, non-possessive, and EXTREMELY confident. Jealousy is an attribute that feeds off of insecurity first, and sexist tropes of possession second - the idea of having no one touch 'your' partner. Any partner Hobie has isn't his - no one belongs to any one. They can be with whoever and do whatever they want when he's not there. So long as he sees his a priority in your life, he'll be there. Let's just hope the OTHER guy is okay with that (and not extremely intimidated by how perfect Hobie is). This applies to both OCs and xReaders.

Open the relationship - and keep it honest The priority when writing this is honesty - because Hobie values it A LOT. And I cannot stress this more. If his partner is honest with him, and genuinely makes an effort to make him a priority, then Hobie is happy. Hobie himself may not choose to have multiple partners, but by having option on the table and having his partner exercise that shows a huge degree of maturity, communication, and freedom. By having a partner who can openly pursue romance outside of Hobie, but still chooses Hobie as their primary partner, their relationship becomes a lot freer, but still just as close - if not stronger. Sure they've got options, and sometimes they may have flings, but at the end of the day, there's no one they connect more with than each other. Better with OCs, but can be done with xReaders.

Let his partner have the last say Hobie can't be a player if he's not the one calling the shots. Have a xReader or OC that is openly outspoken about what they want and the label they're interested in. (even if thats 'unlabeled) Have the reader be the one who doesn't want to make it official, or on the inverse, have them insist that either they make it official or else they'll stop seeing them. And have them stand their ground. Do not have them budge or waiver or second-guess. Have them leave the ball in Hobie's court - and sort it out for himself. By doing this you're giving them a sense of agency and independence outside of him, and inverts the sexist expectation that men be the ones who define the relationship.

In the words of Coi Leray "Cause Girls is Players too." Kick slut-shaming in the teeth. Where are all the city girls? Directly challenge sexist tropes that are prevalent in the Hobie fandom, by writing a female character who is openly and sexually liberated, knows her worth, and knows how to handle her feelings. Have her be the one seeing multiple people, have him be the one to pass the guy on the way out. Its not more shameful when the character does it. If you want to make Hobie a player who can run game - acknowledge that some girls run game too. And many girls can call that shit from a mile away. Having a character who has multiple partners, but slowly finds themself falling for Hobie in specific is an interesting dymanic. It forces you to show a woman's sexuality in a different and positive light, one not connected to her lust for a specific man. And it forces you to challenge the idea of 'fast girls' or 'groupies'. Ever seen 'She's Gotta Have It' by Spike Lee? That. And you can have her other partners acting as a contrast to Hobie. If she starts realling her other partner really ain't shit - Hobie starts looking a lot better. And let me just say - this doesn't have to cause drama. Having Hobie and the character both be polyamorous, only to connect with each other and laugh about their other escapades can be CUTE. And neither are threatened, because they know it's all in good fun, and they know they've got their partner on lock.

Find alternative labels Take 'boyfriend and girlfriend' off the table and get creative. They can be life partners, or Best Friends with Benefits (who are genuinely friends, stay that way and are not just thinly vieled romantic tension), or the xReader/OC can simply 'his girl' or 'his guy'. By doing this, you're able to put a label on it, without taking it serious at all. It signals that there is something there and they know it, and they don't need normal terms to define it. Good for both OCs and xReaders.

Hobie & Gender Roles

Chivalry is dead. Romance your boyfriend to death.

I spoke in the last post of about Hobie's feminism and his understanding of the patriarchy and the way it works. And I think Hobie would work to openly defy gender roles in his relationship. Here's are some tips to do that.

Have the xReader or OC initiate the romance Have them confidently ask him out. Have your OC or xReader be the one to approach him at a party and hit on him. Just by doing so, you're putting your characters in a situation that subverts gender roles - where the many is typically the one to approach his mate. It shows confidence on the part of the xReader/OC and let's them step outside the traditional trope of a passive feminine partner.

Have them initiate touch/affection as well Have them touch him first, or wrap their arms around him. Have them kiss his neck (if they can reach lol). Instead of having a shy and quiet xReader who only accepts compliments from Hobie - have them openly and boldly compliment him. A girl who openly loves her partner/boyfriend and yeah- she's gonna talk about him cause she can. Have them call him pet-names first. And show Hobie enjoying it or feeling comforted by it. In doing so, you're allowing him to show a softer side that is also absent in a lot of fics. Plus you're breaking the trope of once again, the partner just passive accepting Hobie's affection without active reciprocation.

Actively show Hobie being comforted and taken care of - not just when he's in crisis Have the character ask if he's okay - in the way a couple will look at each other and be like "You good?" even when nothings going on. Have the character be the one to ask if he's eaten. Don't only do this when he's about to emotionally crack, or when he's physically beat up. Do it on the daily. Men shouldn't have to break before their emotional needs are addressed. So often in fics Hobie is seen as the perfect protector who never gets tired - and then there's no mention of him ever taking care of himself in any way. That's now how this works. Hobie is community based. That means he looks after the people he care about. If the character cares about him, they have them go out of their way to show it - the same way he does. The xReader/OCs can hold him while he's crying or make him go to sleep when he's up all night. They can hear him out when he's annoyed with Miguel, and help him when he's feeling not 100% too. SO many fics are about the reader NEEDing Hobie for some often asinine reason. Sometimes Hobie needs his partner too.

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HI HI! If you've read this far, thank you so much! I really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts! The next part is centered around my spidersona Disco-Spider Diane, her relationship with Hobie, and how I incorporate all this into their dynamic. This part is LONG and detailed (I'm unhinged) so I don't blame you if you wanna peace out now! If you do peace out, thanks again! - here's a photo of Hobie for the road!

_______________________________________________________ Now let's talk about Lil Miss Disco and her Boo Thang

DiscoSpider Diane and Hobie -

How I write a Non-Conventional Relationship For more info you can check out Diane's Character Sheet here and her tag here

I spoke briefly in my last post about Hobie, feminism, and how subverting sexist tropes contributed to her characterization - so this time I just want to give an overview of how that translates to a NCR - and how that can be shown clearly in writing.

Hopefully this will give some ideas or at the very least, I can ramble about Diane lol Diane & Hobie - A Basic Overview

[You can check out Diane's Character Sheet here!][And check out her tag for more art & writing here!]

I don't have a word for what Diane and Hobie are supposed to be, and that's intentional.

They aren't dating. Because they don't go on traditional dates - they just hang a lot. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend because that's rigid in it's confines. Even partners can be a bit of a stretch. I wanted to write them instead as two people who care about each other and make an effort to be in each other's lives. They're the other's largest emotional support and cheerleader - and their emotional reactions take focus over the romantic ones.

Diane and Hobie have a Non-Conventional Romance because they're in an emotional relationship rather than a romantic one. There is romance there - but the same way a romantic relationship isn't a 'sexual relationship' because sex is involved - an emotional relationship does not become entirely romantic once romance is involved.

Their emotional relationship is very committed, but their romantic relationship is extremely casual. Here are some ways I show that.

DiscoPunk & Affection:

Diane and Hobie do not use typical pet-names. Instead, Hobie is more likely to call Diane 'Daiquiri' - a nickname left over from the first time they've met. It's an embarrassing memory for Diane - and a story Hobie loves to tell. But by calling her Daiquiri, he's sending the reminder that he thinks about the night they met often and remembers it well. Including the 4 Daiquiris she made him buy her. He also calls her Clover - as she's one of his 'Lucky Charms'. Diane is the same, preferring to call Hobie by his name - or over the top names like 'pookie', 'honeybun', or 'hot stuff'. Though the most common she'll default to is 'babe', though she will only do this will they're completely alone. Hobie openly annoys Diane and she lets him. Diane is easy to mess with, easy to sneak up on and easy to confuse (sorry girl). It's easy for him to make her jump if he's too quiet, and despite being fairly outgoing, Disco gets embarrassed easily. Sharing constant silly stories, calling her embarrassing nicknames and ruffling her perfectly manicure hair, are go to ways to piss her off. And you can usually tell when she asks "Am I playing with you? Does it look like I'm playing right now??" In turn, Diane does her 'groupie act', which involves running up and hugging him hard as hell, jumping on his back, or talking about how cute he is in a baby voice while pinching his cheeks. They playfight A LOT. Hobie is known to come up behind Diane, lovingly slipping his arms around her waist. He lifts her up - and then tries to bodyslam her. He's holding her like he's about to do a judo flip and Diane is shoving at him telling him to cut it out. In turn, Diane likes to run at him from a far and jump on his back, and she's known to punch his shoulder if he gets too cheeky with the jokes. (Thank god they both have Spider Strength). And while they may not be quick to cuddle or hold each other in public - if Hobie is asking for it they WILL wrestle, and with matched strength, they don't stop until someone (usually Jess) tells them to cut it out. And Laughter is one of their biggest Love Languages. Hobie LOVES making Diane laugh - mainly because it's such a spectacle. Diane will scream and cry in laughter, doubled over so hard she has to sit down or leave the room. And for Hobie, it's easy to do this, so he does it whenever's the most inappropriate. Him dancing is a HUGE way because it brings Diane to tears almost instantly, without fail. She begs him to stop cause she can't breathe - she's laughing so hard. Hobie refuses and keeps dancing, just to mess with her. On the inverse, when Diane does it, most of the time she doesn't mean to. Diane is clever, but she's blunt and a little.. easy to confuse. And when she blurts something out or asks a question that sounds a bit ridiculous, Hobie can't help but laugh. Like when she saw Peter B. unmasked for the first time, and immediately asked him "Wait, why are you white?" Hobie will almost away burst into laughter, which is usually followed by Diane going "Whatttt? What did I say? Why are you laughing at me :(' Everytime she does this she is completely serious, which Hobie finds even funnier. If she's confused, he'll try to explain it to her, and he never teases her for it. It's just that Hobie chooses his words very carefully, and Diane says exactly what comes to mind.

They very rarely say 'I love you' and only do it in private. Usually, they'll only say this when one of them is going through it, the other just did something awesome, or they're alone and in a good mood. It reserved for moments of intimacy or spontaneity. With a relationship that is so playful, the two of them would probably think that saying it outright is a bit too sappy and plain. Instead, they substitute it by asking the other if they love them -

If Hobie does something for Diane, instead of Diane saying "I love you", Hobie will be the one to say "Don't you love me?" If Diane does something for Hobie, instead of him saying "I love you", he can swap it with "You must love me." (Usually the other person may say "I do" or an equally loving "Shut up.")

DiscoPunk & PDA:

They prioritize privacy. They don't label themselves - to anybody, even close friends. They let people make their own assumptions because it doesn't matter anyway. Plus with Diane being very committed to her place in the Spider Society, it's preferable to just keep it between them. Hobie doesn't really care either way. But the less people bothering him and asking questions, the better.

Diane and Hobie never kiss in front of other people. Save for a few exceptions. Despite being very physically and playfully affectionate, Hobie and Diane choose to keep most of their PDA completely private - and they're more likely to link arms than hold hands. When it comes to kissing, the two saves it for behind closed doors, or hidden spots in HQ. With relationships between Spider-people being prohibited at HQ, it's just easier that way - and the both of them prefer it. This even extends to close friends, including Pavi and Gwen. They may dramatically kiss the other's cheek to annoy them, making kissy sounds and grabbing each other's faced - and on occasion Hobie may give Diane a forehead kiss (she's tall enough to do this). They may cuddle in front of others too, but that's about it. But kisses in specific are just for them. Wasn't a conscious choice, but they like it that way. There's two exceptions though: 1) Shortly after meeting Hobie, Gwen ran into Hobie and Diane kissing at a hidden spot on campus. Nothing heated, but kissing. Diane felt her looking and seemed very disturbed and uncomfortable she had seen. Gwen left quickly, and although Hobie assured Diane that Gwen was okay, the two of them didn't meet until a later date, and Diane seemed a bit embarrassed.

2) Parties. After shows and while drinking Hobie and Diane are completely fine making out in public and showing full PDA. Why? Because they have the cover of the 'groupie act' and they can argue that they were drunk and were only messing around or even say they straight up don't remember. Their terms of commitment are unique. Neither Hobie (in my little universe) nor Diane believe in soulmates. But they do consider themselves 'committed', but they're not life-partners either. They don't care if they'll be together forever. The idea is nice, but it's not their focus. If they wanna spend their lives together, they can start but showing up for each up daily, rather than wearing rings daily.

DiscoPunk, Labels, and Polyamory:

Diane and Hobie are in an open relationship. Since they've never officially asked each other out, monogamy hasn't really been on the table ever. And both are fine and comfortable with this. Because they're great at minding their own business. Who's the girl leaving houseboat when Diane comes through? Who cares - but if touched the makeup Diane left on his bathroom counter, she'll be sending her an invoice and an angry letter. This is equal on both sides.

Diane is without a doubt more active, and more prone to one-night stands (she has a kink for guitarists) rather than full on relationships. Maybe it's the fact that having Hobie in the picture is intimidating as fuck to most guys.

Hobie also has his share - though he usually finds himself in flings and short relationships - going more for romance than sex. In fact, Hobie was with Diane for the duration of his relationship with his Felicia Hardy.

Naturally, Felicia and Diane knew about each other - though they hadn't met. Diane was fine with this and at most would ask how Felicia was doing. Felicia however really wanted to meet Diane. Like dying to meet her. So she found out Hobie's secret identity and just - turned up at one of his shows. Diane was...understandably confused. She was nice, but confused. Asked Hobie later like "Why's she here. Nothing wrong with it but like forreal why is she here?" and he's like "IDK I aint invite her m8 she always does this." Eventually the two got to know each other and although Hobie isn't with Felicia anymore (it's messy), her and Diane are still close friends.

Hobie perfers to let Diane have the last say when it comes to labels.

He's fairly unbothered. What's he gonna do - tell her he has to be her boyfriend? Or brush her off and still expect her to be there? Nah, Labels are the last thing he's worried about. And that's because he's fine with all of them. So long as they're clear. If avoided labels, and demanded to be label-less, that was still caring about labels.

This is where there's conflict - and instead of most fanfics in which the conflict is coming from him - in their case it's coming from her. Diane avoids commitment, terrified of the threat it could cause to the multiverse and Hobie's universe in specific. She's drank the society Kool-Aid so to speak, and will dance around the topic. Hobie has on occasion mentioned monogamy between them being a good option, but when directly approached, Diane will try to dance around the topic - mainly afraid of what Jess and especially Miguel will do if she falls out of line.

This, along with canon events, are the only things that can get them to actually argue - and it can sometimes decend into screaming matches (more about the Society rather than their relationship). They try to avoid bringing it up. But Diane is still paranoid and avoids it.

They use alternative labels instead. For sake of implicity, if you ask them directly "What is x to you?" Hobie will either say "Diane's my bird." or "Why do you want to know - You interested in me or her?" He may also say 'The Old Ball n' Chain' (mocking boomer humor) or simply say "That's Daiquiri."

Diane will most likely say "He's my little boo thang." She may also call him her 'hubby', or say 'I'm his biggest fan.'

WE'RE ALMOST DONE I PROMISE

Finally, DiscoPunk & Gender Roles

I wrote in the last post about how feminism and inverting the sexist trope of 'groupie' contributed a lot to Diane and her behavior towards Hobie. This can mostly be seen here:

Diane initiated the romance. Diane has always been Hobie's groupie, and outspoken in her affection for him. She thinks the girls hiding how much they like Hobie is silly - He KNOWS he's hot. Why not come out and say it - hype him up. Diane is also a way bigger flirt than Hobie - and I really wanted to write the two of them this way, because so much of the time Hobie is the one flirting, usually on a passive OC or xReader that simply passively accepts.

It's rare in dialogue that someone outright points out how hot Hobie is. So Diane does it. She was fine with being like "You're so hot it's distracting and that's not a joke. :) "

Diane usually initiates touch. Hobie rarely wraps his arms around her (unless he's doing that stupid judo shit she hates), but Diane does it to him all the time. She's tall enough on her skates that if she holds him by the waist from behind, she can see clearly over his shoulders. And it's not unusual to see Diane's eyes peek over Hobie's shoulder when you're talking to him. She's not listening, she's just there.

In turn, Hobie accepts this touch very much like the way an xReader would. He's usually the one intiating and offering touch, but when Diane does it him, he finds it comforting to be on the receiving side.

And I usually see this/show this as him softening into her touch, complimenting her for it, or baiting her into cuddling (like plopping down on her on the couch)

They supplement this a lot with closeness. Hobie and Diane always seem to be shoulder to shoulder, whispering inside jokes into each other's ears and trying not to crack up. Most often, Hobie with hput his arm around her shoulder, or if she's in her skates - a hand on her waist to steady her. Not that she needs it. Their relationship is mainly and largely emotional. And that's the basis of it. Hobie was the one who recruited Diane, and has been there for all of her canon events since, seeing her in her most venerable states.

Diane is dedicated to canon - and letting Miguel write her life for her - and although she finds herself conflicted and cornered by the Society, Hobie wants to be there for her always. And he'll be along for the ride as long as she'll have him. Diane in turn, tries her best to be positive when they're both from worlds where things can get really negative. No matter how much he tries to hide it, the constant battles and brutality with the police of his home world wears on him - and he's aware that he's different than most other Spider-people. He's killed before. Usually, he lets it out through his music and when it isn't that - it's through anger and protest. But like Hobie, Diane is a huge supporter of radical happiness. If you can think of Hobie's music as a call to arms, Diane's music is a love song to the sweeter brighter things in life. Diane was raised by The Black Panthers, and she knows just as well as he does what the brutality and pain of oppression can feel like. She has her feet firmly on the ground and her head happily in the clouds.

If anything, Diane is a person of comfort and escapism for Hobie. A reminder of the sweet life that he's fighting for. Diane lives completely free, free of labels and limits - even while living under the thumb of the Society. And she tries to remind Hobie what freedom feels like, when he gets tired of fighting every now and again _________________________________________________

In this way their emotional connection is mutual.

More than anything, I wanted Hobie and Diane to be emotional rocks to each other, before romantic partners. I didn't mean to write it that way (in my head), but it kinda ended up that way.

So often in the Hobie fandom we see the extremes of either Completely Detached Hobie - who sleeps around and wants nothing to do with labels - or Completely Committed Hobie - who is madly in love with his partner in a traditional sense. And in their relationship, I hoped to challenge that. By writing a Hobie than didn't care either way, or went with the flow. A Hobie that was just as thoughtful in his relationships as he was in his friendships. Instead, I wanted to shift the focus to Diane and making it about her choice. By having the woman be the one to define the relationship, the story can now focus on an internal struggle. And seeing his partner being the one to struggle with labels - whereas he's made peace with them.

And by having their affection shift more into playful - that was just because I think it's really funny. Hobie's a little shit.

All of this allows Diane and Hobie's relationship to be something based on mutal care and admiration for each other - rather than lust and clear-cut commitment.

They're able to be independent people, with independent lives and beliefs, while still being a large part of the other's life. They're able to excecise freedom in their situation, while still having an underlying conflict or struggle driving their story.

Hobie and Diane deeply care about and love each other, multiverse be damned. And even if they may not always see eye-to-eye, they're willing to put that aside if it means they have a chance at a peaceful future together - no matter what universe they're in.

They're not conventional, but they're in love. Cause I said so.

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So uh....yeah. That's how I incorporated Non-Conventional Relationships into my uhhh..deeply complex mental world that isn't written down yet besides glimpses in comics I make in photoshop.

If anyone read this far I will genuinely be so surprised, cause I literally just wrote an essay about their entire relationship lol

I feel like I could type anything down here and be safe cause it's hidden in a cattacomb full of TEXT like lemme just-

(I laughed at the second one til i crrriieeeddddd bro thats so foul)

But if you did read this all, thank you SO SO SO MUCH! As you can probably tell, I think about this a lot. And these characters mean a lot to me so I love sharing them when I can. I hope this helped someone and someone finds it helpful or at least entertaining! You rock <3

Writing this is normal, well-adjusted behavior. Cringe is dead.

Stream Diane and Hobie's album 'BackAlleyJazzLettuce' aka their Funk-Rock fusion ship playlist

Now take this photo of Hobie Kissy Kissy Face and get off my property.

Bye.

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