#blaze pod

[padawan-snack-packer]

Do you ever just go about your day, sip your little drink, open your little email, and then remember that Hardcase—our chaos ADHD king, our walking serotonin shot, our human thermal detonator—sacrificed himself with a grin and a quip so his brothers could escape? That he went out in a blaze of glory, piloting a stolen ship with literally no plan except “blow stuff up real good,” and the last thing he said was "live to fight another day boys, live to fight another day"???

Hardcase, who never stopped calling his brothers “sir” even when they told him to quit it. Hardcase, who probably never got promoted because he was “reckless.” Hardcase, who loved flying and loud noises and sunshine and probably didn’t understand why no one ever let him just have fun—and then he died for everyone else. Just. Like. That.

Do you ever remember Echo? Sweet, by-the-books, “regulations exist for a reason” Echo who lost everything and kept surviving anyway? Echo who got blown up during a rescue mission, turned into a cybernetic lab rat, hooked up to machines like a tool, stripped of his name, his agency, his brotherhood—and he still came back.

He came back and found out Fives was gone. He came back and the war was ending only to find out there was no end to begin with. He came back and nothing was the same, and he still kept going. That man has literally had half his body replaced with cyber-grade hardware and he's still more human than some Jedi.

Do you ever think about Fives? Fives who figured it out. Fives who knew about the chips. Fives who died saying the truth. He didn’t go down in glory. He wasn’t martyred. He bled out in a hangar, shaking and crying and trying to tell the people he trusted that everything was a lie. And NOBODY BELIEVED HIM. They said he lost his mind. THEY. SAID. HE LOST. HIS MIND.

Fives who just wanted to be loyal. Who just wanted to protect his brothers. Who died trying to save them all and didn’t live to see a single one freed.

Do you remember Jesse? That sweet, noble ARC trooper who wore the Republic symbol on his face like a badge of honor and who looked absolutely shattered when he turned on Ahsoka. He didn’t want to. You could see it. You could feel the war inside him. But the chip won. Because "good soldiers follow orders".

Do you remember Tup? That sweet, soft-spoken clone who glitched first. Who killed two jedi, because “Good soldiers follow orders,” like he was possessed. Because he was. Because the war broke him open before anyone was ready.

Do you ever remember Waxer and Boil? Waxer who kept an eye on a scared little Twi'lek girl Numa through a war zone. Waxer who died seeing his brothers were turning against each other because of Krell and his lies, and who apologized with his dying breath?

Do you remember that clones had names? Do you remember that they named themselves? That they forged their identities with paint and banter and nicknames and loyalty and found joy in being individuals even when everything about their existence was designed to erase that?

Do you remember that they aged twice as fast and weren’t supposed to live long enough to get tired?

That the GAR never intended to care for them after the war? That there was no post-war plan? That the Empire swept them aside for cheaper labor?

That Rex had to watch his brothers turn, die, disappear, and he STILL fought in the rebellion with a heart twice the size of Coruscant???

Do you ever think about how the clones were raised in pods, trained like blaster fodder, taught to say “Yes sir” and never think twice, and still found ways to be brave and kind and funny and GOOD???

DO YOU???

Anyway. I’m normal. Totally fine. Just sitting here naming my coffee cups after 501st troopers and crying into my caf. Would die for every single one of them. Even Dogma. ESPECIALLY Dogma. And Rex. And Fives. And Hardcase. And Echo. And Waxer. And-

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

love(rs) and war | f. odair

masterlist

summary: request here — when you signed up to become a solider in the rebellion, you never expected to be plagued with dirty thoughts of your boyfriend, finnick. who would have thought someone could make tactical gear look so good? you aren’t too sure your self-control is strong enough to make it through the night, but things take a turn when you take a shift on watch.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, smut, thigh riding, manhandling, possessiveness, jealousy, unprotected p in v, risk of being caught, dirty thoughts/talk, mentions of war, angst, singular use of y/n please forgive me, gale, slow-burn-ish, emotional sex, teasing, fluff

notes: everyone say happy birthday to @odairsaurora

word count: 12.8k dear god

Becoming a soldier in the rebellion against the Capitol came with a lot of certitude and not exactly the good kind. The likelihood of encountering death was extreme. Making it out alive was possible; making it out unscathed wasn’t. Even if you survived, you would be left with a life-long mental scar as a reminder of everything you have endured.

You knew all this when you signed up.

Even with all that knowledge, there were still countless uncertainties. Like not knowing where you would be laying your head to rest at night. Not knowing if you would even survive to be given the chance to rest at night. Being in a constant state of fight or flight. Always looking over your shoulder to make sure a squad member hadn’t been lost to a Peacekeeper or a pod or a mutt. Making sure you hadn’t lost the love of your life. Finnick.

But those uncertainties were predictable in combat—an oxymoron you had managed to wrap your war-torn mind around.

Something you never could have predicted was the lust. The overwhelming, all-consuming desire for Finnick that had engulfed you like a tonne of bricks the moment the first explosive pod went off and your sense of safety plummeted six feet below the ground.

Fire erupted in the air between the two buildings Katniss had shot her arrow through. Everyone was crouched together, watching in awe as they witnessed the sadistic lengths Snow was willing to go in an attempt to keep the rebels from reaching him. Your heart was beating so fast and every loud boom caused by the destruction had you recoiling in on yourself.

Finnick too was watching beside you, wearing a boyish grin as his shoulders shook lightly with suppressed laughter. He always was more favourable to dark humour, finding hilarity in situations others would find disturbing. You found it strangely attractive.

As you stared at him, the initial shock of the explosion started to wear off until it was no longer registering in your mind. All you could focus on was the dangerous curve of his lips, wishing they were somewhere on your body. Anywhere.

When he realised you were staring at him, his smile dropped and was replaced with a look of concern. He leaned towards you, voice a whisper though loud enough to be heard over the blaze in the distance, “You okay?”

You weren’t sure how to tell him your body was pulsating with fear, adrenaline, and desire all at once, so you nodded and hummed a pitchy, “Mhm.”

You suspected it had something to do with the dangerous situation you were in. The possibility that any moment with him could be your last. With this information, your body seemed to switch into survival mode, only ‘survival mode’ seemed to mean it yearned to spend every possible second you had left with him. Which, yes, included wanting him to fuck your brains out every time he merely looked in your direction.

And the uniform, Jesus Christ, the uniform... Whoever designed it was a miracle worker. Quite literally.

In your eyes, nothing could have made Finnick look more attractive than he already was. That man radiated unparalleled beauty even on his worst days. But the second you saw him dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear you knew you were sorely mistaken. He looked so commanding. So gorgeous.

So dominant.

Never, absolutely never had you been more attracted to anyone than you were to Finnick right at the moment. You felt like you had reverted to a younger version of yourself, the one before you were in a relationship—shy, flustered, and stuck in a state of constant lewd daydreams.

He was adorned in straps and pockets for weapons and equipment, chest protected by sleek black armour. The only skin he had uncovered was from his neck up and his hands, making that tiny sliver of exposure so much more alluring than it should have been. His right thigh was strapped with a gun holster that cinched around his muscular thighs. You couldn’t pinpoint why this made you so desperate to sit in his lap or straddle his thigh and just—

“It’ll be getting dark soon,” said Lieutenant Jackson, pulling you from your thoughts. “We need to find somewhere to settle in ‘til the morning. Streets’ll be even more dangerous at night.”

Nods of agreement echoed around the group. Messalla, you believed his name was, had mentioned there being a place nearby that could be used to camp out for the night. From avoiding hidden pods and scaling over rubble, it was clear what should have been a fifteen-minute journey would turn into an hour-long expedition.

Not that you were complaining.

Sure, that sounded selfish, but nobody was perfect, right? You were certain anyone else would feel the same if they got to spend an entire hour admiring their partner—who just happened to be Finnick Odair—looking incredible whilst doing something as ordinary as walking. His black cargo pants kept tightening around his thighs with each smooth step he took. He kept alternating between holding his trident beside him and over his shoulder, muscles flexing through the thick material of his jacket each time he switched positions.

Sometimes you accidentally found yourself falling behind in pace, a subconscious desire to just watch him walk. It would take him a few seconds before he realised you weren’t beside him anymore and then he would look back to find you staring in a flustered daze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just regaining my energy,” you had replied.

He must’ve known it was a lie. He had to. Though if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, just simply raised an eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, which you did.

His fingers interlaced with yours. “I can carry you if you want?”

“Thanks, but I think I might die of mortification.”

He laughed something deep and beautiful in response, voice vibrant as he spoke, “At least it’d be in my arms.”

It was such a disconcerting sentence, but the sound of his voice was so alluring that you were conflicted between feeling distressed and turned on.

Eventually, you ended up finding the location Messalla was talking about, discovering that it was a ransacked cocktail bar nearing the outskirts of the city. Everyone was quiet as they settled in, the atmosphere heavy with both purpose and apprehension. Not Finnick though. He was his usual lively self, managing to pull a few responses from various squad members with his charming banter, even gaining a few small smiles here and there.

It took everything in you not to jump into his arms and crush your lips against his whenever he wrapped a large hand around your waist as he stood beside you during briefings about strategy and navigating the city. He kept asking if something was wrong, kept giving you these funny looks in response to your strange behaviour, but you refused to tell him. It was wrong. Positively immoral.

You eventually sat together on a long leather stool, shoulders pressed up against one another, his hand wrapped innocently around your thigh in a need for constant connection. He kept trying to make conversation with you, but you could barely muster up a single sentence in response. Not with his hand touching you so. Not with him looking like that.

His hair was dishevelled in the most perfect way that not even a prep team could attempt to reconstruct it. In any other circumstance, your hands would have already found their way into his golden locks, tugging and scratching lightly to coax a pleasured sigh from his lips. In any other circumstance, your lips would have already attached themselves to the exposed skin of his neck, tracing the length of his artery with your tongue so he would be tilting his head to the side in a silent plea for more.

In any other circumstance, you would be sitting in his lap, hearing the rough material of his attire rustle against yours as you felt him thrust in and out of you.

You crossed your legs.

“What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”

You blinked back into existence. Finnick was staring at you, his hand now interlocked with your own and stroking the side of your palm with his thumb. A ray of golden setting sunlight painted a strip of light across the lower half of his face, across his mouth. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and lips, lingering longer and longer on the latter. They stretched into a sweet, reassuring smile. He must have thought you were anxious.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know,” he continued. “Everyone here is scared. I’m scared. I know it may not look like it because I’m just so effortlessly calm and collected—” His expression morphed into faux-arrogance for a moment, lips smirking and eyes sparkling with smugness, and your stomach did a somersault “—but I am. So it’s okay to admit that you are too. I just need you to talk to me.”

You felt so guilty like you had just committed the worst crime in the world. He was on an entirely different wavelength to you, all concerned about your wellbeing meanwhile your thoughts were running rampant with lust. It bordered on nymphomania. You felt like the worst person alive. Why were you thinking about sex in a time like this? Why did Finnick have to be wearing tactical gear? Why, why, why, why, why?

The sudden need to confess was overwhelming and the way he was looking at you so intently wasn’t helping. Then his hand was back on your thigh and kneading it gently in encouragement.

Your thighs squeezed together. God help you if he felt it.

The confession was threatening to burst from the tip of your tongue: You just look so fucking sexy right now and I’m afraid that if I don’t feel you inside me soon I might actually die but I’m also terrified to tell you because I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way when we are literally in the middle of a war and the fact that you are so oblivious is turning me on so much more so please take me into a supply closet and fuck some sense into me before I lose my fucking mind—

Woah.

Could it be the effects of a pod? Did the Gamemakers release some sort of invisible gas that acted as an aphrodisiac which was lethal without relief? If that were true, wouldn’t everyone else be in the same boat as you were? Wouldn’t everyone else look as flustered and rigid as you did right now? Wouldn’t Finnick?

No. It was just you. Somehow that made it even worse.

Finnick’s brows arched inwards as he awaited your response. Your mind flashed back to another time when his brows were arching and lips were spilling filthy obscenities due to your own manipulation. Jesus fucking Christ, your stomach felt so tight it ached. You were throbbing at the thought of it.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The words were rising into your throat no matter how hard you tried to swallow them. Your mouth opened to speak, disregarding all the consequences that came with admitting such a thing in such an inappropriate situation. And then the sound of an engine in the distance suddenly cut you off.

Everyone moved onto their feet, on alert due to the incoming vehicle.

“Stand down everyone. It’s friendly,” said Jackson.

You weren’t too sure ‘friendly’ had been the right term as you watched Peeta step out of the rover Coin had sent him in.

His arrival brought with him a heightened sense of tension. There was no telling what state of mind he was in or when he was going to snap and become the violent hijacked version of himself. Finnick had decided to take on the responsibility of assigning himself Peeta’s guard to make sure he didn’t cause harm to anyone in the squad or himself. Also because that’s just who Finnick was. Selfless and kind.

And where Finnick went, so did you, meaning his already highly protective nature over you increased monumentally. He never let you out of his sight, always kept you within arms-length, and always kept a hand somewhere on your body. You really, really did try to contain yourself. You tried to suppress the heat flushing your entire body. Tried not to sigh every time his fingers pressed into your waist the slightest bit or whenever he curled his hand around your inner thigh and gave it a territorial squeeze as you sat beside each other on the leather couch. But it was so hard when he was acting so dominating over you.

Even Peeta who was aloof and struggling with his sanity half the time seemed to notice Finnick’s sudden possessiveness.

“Afraid I’m gonna try and take her off you, Finnick?” Peeta had said.

It was meant to be a joke, but the tone of his voice was so flat and devoid of life, it made you feel a little uneasy.

Finnick’s hold on you tightened ever-so-slightly and his jaw clenched. It must have been so strange for him. You hadn’t known Peeta before moving to District Thirteen, but Finnick did. You had heard stories of the boy who enjoyed baking and painting, who was known for his love for Katniss and his kindness that never wavered even when thrown into an arena and forced to murder other tributes.

That was the boy Finnick knew; the person in front of him now was a stranger.

Peeta must have sensed the tension he had caused as he averted his gaze. “Kidding.” And then a few seconds later, he murmured, “Sorry.”

You felt terrible watching as the little life he had in his eyes seemed to deflate even more than they had as he internally berated himself. How awful it must be to not have control over yourself, to be a broken shell of the person you once were. You couldn’t imagine the same happening to Finnick—the light he exuded dimming to a cold, dark, pale glow. The mere thought of it had your heart threatening to break in two.

Finnick’s grip on you relaxed and his eyes grew softer. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, empathy pervading his voice. He was quiet for a short moment before he started smiling softly to himself. “But Peeta—” Peeta’s attention was back on him “—just for future reference: sharing is caring is not a concept I apply to Y/N.”

For the first time since his rescue, you saw Peeta smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

**********

Darkness had finally veiled the city, drenching the bar in ominous shadows and beams of silver moonlight. Silence filled the room apart from the occasional startled gasp or yelp as multiple squad members awoke from horrific nightmares. The very back of the bar was scattered with various sleeping figures, most lying on the floor in an attempt to remain unseen from any potential passers-by outside.

It was your shift on watch, hours twenty-two hundred to zero-one hundred. You were sitting on the same leather stool as earlier but now it was positioned so that you had a clear view of the streets outside.

Finnick had tried to convince Boggs to let him take your shift for you, being his usual chivalrous self and all. But much to his dismay, not even his charm and million-dollar smile could persuade that man. Then he offered to join you, but you refused. Spending time alonewith him atnight would have been disastrous; even during the day, you had a hard time keeping your feelings under wraps.

The final stretch was coming up with twenty minutes to go. The boredom was a killer, leaving you to alternate between scanning the streets and glancing over to where Finnick slept. Well, knowing him, he was probably wide awake worrying about you being left alone for three hours, picturing different anxiety-inducing scenarios behind his closed eyes.

One of his legs was arched whilst the other was extended flat on the floor. He had an arm behind his head acting as a pillow and his other hand was lying on his stomach, fingers subtly tapping in a wave-like pattern.

Definitely awake.

That little detail certainly fuelled your imagination, knowing he was right there lying awake with you on his mind whilst everyone else was probably asleep. What really had your mind buzzing was the fact that the hem of his jacket had ridden up, just barely exposing the tanned skin of his torso and the contour of his v-line which led down to his—wait, was he smiling?

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but you swore his lips were curving into a small smirk. But that would mean he knew you were staring at him…

You turned back around to the streets, blushing deeply.

“No,” you murmured to yourself. “You’re just tired.”

Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. But as you stared out into the night air, the only image that plagued your mind was one of Finnick fucking Odair smirking.

Goosebumps washed over your body, sensitive against the rough material of your attire. First, he was smirking, then he was taking you into his arms, then he was kissing you, caressing you, sliding a hand beneath your shirt, into your pants. You almost reached the part you enjoyed the most, but a troubling noise pulled you from your thoughts. A pair of footsteps.

Heavy and purposeful, they came from behind you.

Oh god, you thought, feeling the anticipation build exponentially inside you. He saw me looking. He knows. He knows what I’ve been thinking all day. He knows. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? What—

“Hey,” a deep voice said quietly.

You looked up to find Katniss’s blue-eyed counterpart standing beside the couch.

“Gale?”

Oh, thank god.

“Yeah.” He sat down beside you with a soft grunt. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Even he knew you were expecting Finnick. You shook your head at him as if the idea was absurd, but in reality, you were a little disappointed. Although your shoulders were only just now dropping back into a relaxed state, you found a deep part of yourself actually wanting Finnick to come and find you out. The anticipation, harrowing as it was, was also exhilarating.

All you could think about was him interrogating you, pulling answers from your lips with just a stern look. Towering over you in his black tactical gear, muscular arms crossed and shoulders broad. Teasing you in an unforgiving tone for thinking such dirty things about him even though you knew he was having the exact same thoughts.

Gale shifted beside you and you suddenly realised you had spoken in well over a minute.

You cleared your throat. “Can’t sleep?”

He stared straight ahead, breathing out a half-hearted chuckle as though your question was a fleeting amusement. “Course not.”

Gale was alright. He was a little too headstrong and insensitive at times, but he wasn’t terrible. Pretty much anyone who wasn’t Snow or stood with Capitol was alright in your books. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t like him one bit.

“You know if Finnick sees you, you’re in for it, right?” you warned, giving him a short glance.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

Your eyebrows raised, inhaling a deep breath as you recalled their brief history. The first time they met, Gale had believed Finnick was in love with Katniss—something the two of you found humour in almost religiously—and therefore, spent most his days shooting glares and making snide comments towards him.

It came as quite a shock to Gale when he discovered it wasn’t Katniss who Finnick was in love with, but you. How he hadn’t realised sooner was beyond the both of you as you and Finnick were pretty much attached to the hip. He got there in the end, at least.

First impressions were everything though. After that, Finnick never really grew to enjoy Gale’s presence too much. During field training for the rebellion, Fate decided to spur on their little feud even further by having you be paired up with Gale for training exercises. Neither of you was very happy about it in the beginning, wanting to be with each other’s loved ones instead. Shockingly, your shared time together sparked up a small friendship.

Finnick wasn’t the most approving.

“He thinks you like me,” you said.

He looked at you, brows furrowed. “I do like you.”

See? Even Gale couldn’t comprehend what you really meant because of how ridiculous it was. You shot him a knowing look.

His expression morphed into one of understanding. “Oh, as in like you like you. Really? Does he not know that I li—”

“Like Katniss? Yes, I’ve told him many times.”

“Well, I guess some people just won’t be told.”

You scoffed, recalling how he had the same way of thinking not too long ago. Oh, how the tables have turned. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Gale laughed quietly, nodding as his gaze moved back to the darkness. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your head whirled to the side, heart jolting in your chest.

There Finnick was, standing beside the stool as he smiled politely at you and Gale, his eyes burning with anything but civility. Your heart dropped at the sight of him. Down into your stomach and then even further below in between your thighs.

His lips twitched as he looked between the two of you. His piercing eyes settled on yours for a moment; the way you gulped was almost comical.

“No,” Gale said cautiously. “Just passing time.”

Finnick nodded indifferently and averted his gaze as though he hadn’t a worry in the world. You knew better though. You knew there was a fire scorching just below his skin, boiling in his bloodstream—the common symptoms of jealousy. They were symptoms you knew all too well. People often had trouble keeping their eyes off him back in Thirteen. Sometimes their hands too. That’s when your jealousy turned to loathing. A feeling you and Finnick both shared whenever it happened.

“Then you won’t mind if I join you?” he asked, although it came out more like a command.

Was it wrong to find Finnick being jealous so attractive?

“Actually, I, uh,” Gale stammered, pushing himself up onto his feet, “I should probably be getting some sleep.”

You couldn’t blame his slight panic. Finnick could be incredibly intimidating when he wanted to be.

Gale shot you a tight parting smile and you mouthed an apology in return.

“Wise choice,” Finnick said as Gale walked past him and began making his way to the back of the bar. You were surprised neither of them knocked shoulders as he did. Though Finnick did add a sarcastic “Sweet dreams!” as you both watched Gale disappear into the shadows.

You turned back to Finnick to see him already looking at you, pride gleaming in his eyes. What a man.

“You’re such an ass.”

He smiled at you humorously. “Only to him.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t even—”

“Like you? Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, and a flash of a smile graced your lips at the way he cut you off the same way you did Gale. Always so in tune with each other. Honestly, it was a wonder you ever managed to have a conversation with one another. He sat down beside you, his legs brushing against yours. “Call me possessive. Maybe a little obsessed too.”

“A little?”

“Okay, very.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, smiling openly now, “the feeling’s mutual.”

He returned your smile with one of his own and for a second, for a tiny splinter of a second, you had a flicker of hope that you might be able to handle being alone with him after all.

“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” he murmured warmly.

Then his hand was sliding onto your thigh, fingers curling and kneading innocently.

It was like a fiery aura suddenly reignited around him, both magnetising and disastrously alluring. Your eyes widened slightly from his touch. That overwhelming attraction from before returned with a tenfold increase in intensity. It was so powerful that you had to look away.

A deafening silence settled between you. Despite this, your thoughts were thunderous; so loud that it was impossible to tune them out. He had to know what he was doing to you, how he was making you feel—it was practically scrawled in bold red writing across your forehead.

Your arms were folded over your lap, afraid that if you moved them you would lose control. You glanced at Finnick to see him staring out at the shadowed buildings with a thoughtful gaze. His jaw was set in place, angled perfectly like it had been chiselled with a file. That spot where his jawline and neck connected was just begging for the touch of your lips. Or was it the other way around?

Your eyes fell further to see his other hand resting on his own thigh, clad in now-tightly-fitted black cargo pants.

Big, veiny hands. Big, muscular thighs. Big, throbbing…

Oh, no, this was all too much. You were supposed to be fighting a war, not your own damn carnal urges.

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” Finnick suddenly spoke in a gentle tone. The guilt increased. “If you’re feeling like this is too much to handle then there’s no shame in going back home.” Shame. Guilt. Too much. “We can return to base and get a hovercraft back to Thirteen. Both of us. I’ll be right by your side. Always.”

God, you loved him so much.

“I love you so much,” you accidentally exhaled.

His expression morphed into one of puzzlement, reflecting what you felt on the inside when the words slipped past your lips. “I love you too?” he chuckled.

You quickly tried to recompose yourself. “But—uh, it’s—it’s not that.”

“No?” He tilted his head. “What is it then?”

On the outside you were composed, disregarding the hot pink flooding your cheeks, although it was probably too dark to be seen. But on the inside, panicked mantras ricocheted from every corner of your mind over and over. A war between two sides, two voices that said, “Tell him” and “Don’t tell him” was raging. You were starting to grow tired of the constant indecision, the ever-present need to confess, and the unrelenting tightness in your stomach you felt whenever you so much as thought about him.

So finally, you decided to create a side of your own. You were going to show him.

Your eyes dropped to the hand curled around your thigh and you inhaled a silent deep breath. Tentatively, you unfolded your arms and moved to rest your hand on top of Finnick’s. He remained still, only watching your movements with curiosity. Your gaze trailed up his arm, over his broad shoulders, the tempting length of his neck, the sharpness of his jaw, and then finally landed on his hypnotically green eyes.

He was looking at you and you were looking at him. There was no point in trying to conceal the fervent darkness manifesting in your gaze nor how it kept dropping to his soft pink lips. He noticed. You knew he did because he too was starting to succumb to the darkness and, fuck, did it look incredible on him.

You hadn’t meant to do it—squeezing your thighs around his hand. It was just, the ache was growing too much for you to handle without relief, and he looked so damn good.

Finnick’s eyes squinted ever-so-slightly at your revealing gesture and they seemed to impossibly grow a shade darker.

“What have you been thinking about?” he asked slowly.

And it was at this point you were certain that he was finally coming to some understanding. It was easy to tell from his twisted smile and scrunched brows, the way he spoke as though he was baiting you into giving an answer he already knew.

Your lips parted as you stared up at him, finding your breaths to become shaky and slightly heavier as the tension thickened. Finnick’s fingertips pressed firmly into your inner thighs and you let out a quiet gasp.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

“Hm?” he pressed further.

Somehow the space between you and Finnick had closed drastically without you even noticing. His face was five or so inches away from yours, peering down at you with a smirk he was trying to repress. He smelled of sea salt and smoky debris though still had a hint of that one rich scent of cologne you always found so intoxicating.

“I’ve been…”

He was closer now. You could feel his breath fanning across your skin.

“You’ve been…?” he enticed, knowing he was making it so much harder for you to conjure the words.

Your hand was clutching his because if he so much as shifted a millimetre, you would lose it. You couldn’t move. Your eyes were on Finnick’s lips, watching as they grew closer and closer. How could he expect you to tell him anything when you were immobilised from his touch? How could he tease you so when you were very obviously having a hard time keeping yourself composed?

Instinctively, your head was beginning to tilt forward to give him easier access, even though you knew he wouldn’t give you anything unless you gave him an answer first. But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. The words were there on the tip of your tongue, but they wouldn’t leave your mouth. And you were absolutely certain of this when the warm touch of his soft lips grazed your own.

It was too much. Too much and too wrong.

“I’m thinking…” you began with a whisper, feeling your lips ghost over his, “it’s your turn to keep watch, Solider.”

His eyes snapped up to yours as you pulled away.

Without a word, you rose to your feet, feeling Finnick’s hand slide off your thigh; for a split second, you regretted your decision. You turned away, inhaling shaky breaths as you attempted to round the corner of the leather stool. Anxiety buzzed through your entire body and rightfully so, because just as you made it around the bend, you heard a pair of rushed footsteps trailing after you.

Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you backwards.

A startled gasp made it halfway past your lips before a large hand was clamped over your mouth. The other, which had forced you backwards, was splayed across your lower abdomen—very much lower, mind you—and had your back trapped against the firm torso of your capture.

Your heart was already thrumming like a hummingbird inside your chest, but it just about gave out when you felt the hard length pressed against your backside.

Finnick’s words were hot in your ear. “That’s not fair, sweetheart,” he spoke, his tone disapproving and full of false offence. “You’ve been giving me the eyes all day, yet you can’t even admit it when I ask nicely?”

Horror ran cold through your blood and your eyes widened.

He must have sensed the rigidness in your body as the next sound that came from his mouth was a low chuckle. “What, you thought I hadn’t noticed?”

You were in shock. Borderline catatonic in his arms. Every time you crossed your legs whenever the pressure between them became too much. Every time you fell behind the group to watch him walk. Every time you stared at him imagining that he was pounding into you or had his mouth between your thighs. He knew. The whole fucking time, he knew.

The hand covering your mouth lowered to your neck and held it gently, thumb stroking a delicate trail over your skin as Finnick awaited your response. You were hastily scanning the room in front of you, praying that all its occupants were either dead asleep or blinded by the darkness.

“I didn’t mean to,” you squeaked out. “I tried to—to control it.”

Your head was turned abruptly and suddenly shadowed green eyes were peering down into your own.

“You didn’t mean to,” he mocked. “That’s what you tell yourself, sweetheart, but every time you looked in my direction, you were dragging me towards you.”

His hand, which was on your stomach, lowered a quarter inch and your own hand went flying to prevent it. Not because you didn’t want him to go any further, but because you were scared of having an… audible reaction that might reveal both you and Finnick to the group.

“And deep down that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he continued.

Your lips were parted though not a single word could pass them. Your inner brows were cinched upwards, the speechlessness evident in your expression. Finnick quickly realised this was the case and his eyes twinkled with mischief under the moonlight.

He lowered his head into the space between your jaw and shoulders, pressing an agonisingly slow kiss to your neck. Your head automatically tilted to the side, a soft sigh escaping your mouth as your eyes closed.

He then returned to hover beside your ear. “Wasn’t it?” he asked again, the sound smooth like warm honey.

And you couldn’t help but submit to his trickery. “Yes,” you whispered, leaning into his chest as a silent plea for more.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

His hand dipped much further below your lower abdomen and landed on the place which would surely have you both sent back to Thirteen if caught, but only for a fleeting moment. Before you had a chance to react, he had spun you around to face him.

From the way he was looking down upon you—so penetrative and depraved—you knew exactly how the night would end. For better or for worse. He was holding you tightly against his body, the only parts of yourself not touching him were your lips, although that would undoubtedly soon change.

“Tell me,” he said, lowering himself until his lips found your jaw, “what you’ve been thinking about—” Then he placed another kiss on the side of your neck “—all day.” And then he pressed another to your collarbone.

Your fingers had found themselves delving into his hair as he continued leaving hot kisses across your skin. The struggle to keep a whine or soft moan from slipping past your parted lips was excruciating. Finnick could definitely feel your struggle from the way you were lightly tugging at his hair.

“Tell me,” he repeated against your skin and you accidentally let a heavy, pleasured breath escape.

There was no point in denying him now.

“You just look so good, Finn,” you confessed.

You were certain you could feel him smiling into each kiss he placed. He only hummed to encourage you further, so you did.

“I’ve—I’ve never seen you in all black before or in tactical gear. And the way you’ve been acting towards me, so serious and protective and…” The word dominant was on your tongue, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak it aloud. “Seeing you like that really…” He finally lifted his head from your neck, lips now a deep peachy shade, gaze awaiting your words. You lowered your eyes bashfully for a moment before returning them to his. “…turned me on.”

He was grinning now. His head had tilted an inch to the side as though he hadn’t quite expected you to actually admit your thoughts. Where the sudden surge of confidence came from was unknown, but you welcomed it nonetheless. Finnick’s mouth opened to speak but it was then in that very moment that you decided why the hell not just get it all out at once?

So, you stood on your toes, placed a hand on the back of his neck, and brought him down to your lips to cut him off. You kissed him deeply, sensually, in a way that would muddle his thoughts and give you time to continue your confession. When you were done and saw that slightly dazed look in his eyes, you knew it had worked.

“I’m not finished,” you whispered.

All he could do was scoff quietly in disbelief. Hell, even you were in disbelief of yourself.

“At first, I thought somehow you had done it on purpose. You do love to tease me, don’t you?” you asked, although it was rhetorical. “But then I realised it wasn’t your doing. It was the designers back in Thirteen who I had to thank for putting you in something like this.” You slid a hand up his torso, over his chest, and then down the length of his bicep, and he watched you every step of the way.

“Maybe I should thank them myself if this is the effect it has,” Finnick said.

You kissed him again and he seemed to understand the meaning behind it: shut up. He nodded, smirking humorously, and you continued. “Do you know how hard it was for me to sit beside you and do absolutely nothing?” you asked, but he knew better than to answer. You pressed a hand to his chest and slowly began walking him backwards. “You did, didn’t you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed back his words. He always liked being in control. But it was your turn now. He stared down at you, thoughts of sin visible in his eyes as you spoke.

“You knew the whole time,” you said. “But, you know, the idea I had of you being so clueless turned me on even more.” You continued walking him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the leather stool and he was forced to sit down and have you look down upon him. He looked good like that, you thought. “Especially whenever you put your hand on my thigh.”

With that being said, you lowered yourself onto Finnick’s thigh, straddling him with one leg on either side. Your hands were holding onto his broad, broad shouldersandhis arms automatically wound around your waist. He had this strange look on his face as he gazed up at you, a mix of admiration and love and… submission? Yes, submission.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead, fingers affectionately combing through the soft bronze strands. He only watched you in silence. Finnick Odair had never been rendered speechless in his life. Having it be first done so by you only made him love you so much more. He would daresay he was proud.

“Every time you put your hand on me, I imagined this,” you said, putting more of your weight on his thigh until you could feel the blissful pressure between your own. A hot shaky sigh left your mouth. “I… I imagined you holding me like this, looking at me the way you are right now.” A little smile stretched across his lips. “I didn’t think it would actually happen. Not like this. This is wrong.”

Finnick dragged your body closer to him and you suppressed the urge to moan. His brows were furrowed together with a look of firmness. “There’s nothing wrong with you loving me,” he finally spoke. “Nothing wrong with me loving you, either.”

“But in a time like this? A place like this?”

He didn’t miss a beat as he smirked and shrugged. “We just have to be quiet about it.”

You stared at him for a moment. He made it sound so simple, like doing something like this could be done with ease. There was a large group of people—soldiers, no less—thirty feet away from you. Yes, they were sleeping and, yes, the darkness was too blinding in the back of the bar to see a foot ahead of you, but still, if anyone somehow saw, that would be the end of your dignity.

Finnick seemed to notice the distant look in your eye. His hands moved down to your hips and he tensed the thigh you were straddling, holding you down on his leg as he bounced it once. The sound that came out of your mouth, a noise of shock and pleasure, almost made him laugh. What it did do was make him even harder than he already was.

“You’ve tortured me all day, Finnick,” you whined, pressing your forehead to his.

He brought a hand to your cheek, stroking the line of your cheekbone with tenderness. “And what is it that you think you have done to me every single day since we first met, sweetheart? I just had to make sure there wasn’t a power imbalance in this relationship, that’s all.”

“You’re cruel.”

“So cruel,” he agreed with the slightest teasing pout. “I’m just horrible, aren’t I?”

To emphasise his point, he brought both his hands back to your hips, held you down, and slowly began rocking you back and forth over his thigh. Your stomach dropped and pulsed and, christ, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had turned inside out altogether. A moan, too loud for your comfort, left your mouth. You couldn’t help it. This was exactly what you had been daydreaming about all day.

“You are,” you whispered with a shaky breath. “Horrible, cruel, and—and incredibly frustrating…”

He tsked his tongue. “I know,” he cooed, continuing to force your hips to grind on his thigh. “Should I make it up to you?”

“I might go crazy if you don’t.”

He wore a lopsided grin. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

And as suddenly and beautifully as stars could collide, your lips were on his. It was like a bout of adrenaline had surged through your body. Your hands were in Finnick’s hair, desperately pulling him closer all while tugging at the strands so he would leave those deep, pleasured sounds on your lips.

His hands were everywhere. They had left your hips because it was clear that you were now doing to work of getting yourself off for him and now he was grasping at any place on your body he could reach. He had encircled your waist and pulled you tightly against him. He had held you by the back of the neck, by the jaw, by the neck. He had managed to undo your ponytail, letting your hair fall around your face like a barrier from the outside world.

He had slid his hands under your jacket and left a trail of warmth up your spine, fingers pressing into the ridges of your shoulder blades as his tongue factored in to deepen the kiss. You would never get used to it—how he managed to make every kiss and act of devotion feel like the first. You would never get used to Finnick’s love.

You held onto his shoulders, grinding yourself down over and over, feeling the firmness of his thigh and the roughness of your pants rub against your clit. Your lips parted from his for a mere second as you moaned. It felt so good yet still, you knew it could be even better. It was all too much—the sensations, the risk, the way Finnick looked—and still not enough. You wanted to be closer to him.

Your leg which was in between his was rubbing against his cock each time you moved. Even through all those layers of clothing you could feel it, hard and aching. All those sounds you knew he was keeping locked up inside, the deep guttural groans, the shaky moans, you wanted to hear them. Fuck, you so desperately wanted to hear them.

“Finn…” you sighed contently as you broke away from his lips.

Hips still grinding, you peered at him through your lashes. His eyes were closed, eyebrows scrunched together as though he were suppressing the pleasure he was feeling. Anywhere but here, you thought, why couldn’t we be anywhere but here?

“Finnick…” you whispered again.

He slowly opened his eyes, and you leaned your forehead against his. A heavy exhale left his body, one he must have been holding in. “God, you’re perfect,” he sighed and reached a hand up to cup your jaw. “I love you so much. Do you know how much I love you?”

Bombs were going off in your chest, each one exploding with every thump of your heart. It was fitting considering your circumstances. Finnick was so beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and you loved him with every inch of your entire being and you wanted to say the words because this very well could be your last night alive together, but you weren’t too sure if you could speak without making any other type of noise.

So, you brought your lips back to his once more, kissing him oh so deeply and reverently. I love you, I love you, I love you. And then his touch was gone entirely.

You had slid off his thigh, now on your feet as you looked down at him. He looked almost pained to have you out of his arms and you were certain you looked the same, though it wouldn’t be for long. After a quick scan of the dark surroundings, you deduced that there was no way anyone could see you from the back of the bar. You returned your gaze back to Finnick.

Eyes unrelenting from his, you began slowly dragging down the zipper on your jacket. As it fell to the floor, you moved on to pulling your undershirt over your head. Finnick’s attention never wavered. He followed each and every movement you made, his chest inflating more heavily with each deep breath he took.

After unbuttoning your pants and letting them slide to the floor, you stepped out of the pile of clothing, completely bare except for your underwear and bra. It wasn’t exactly warm nor cold but being so exposed in the dead of night in a place you were supposed to be keeping watch while under the watchful wandering gaze of your love was bound to shroud your body in chills.

You hugged your arms around yourself.

Finnick simply looked at you as though you were the most, if not, the only beautiful thing that had ever graced the earth.

“Come here,” he said softly, holding out his hand.

The confidence you had previously felt simmered down into meek submission the second you had stripped bare in front of him. So, as you walked towards him, you couldn’t help but feel the timidness reveal itself in each of your steps. Your hand glided into his and he gently pulled you forward, guiding you to straddle his entire lap instead of just his thigh.

You could feel him pressing into you, his cock separated by mere millimetres of fabric from where you needed him most. It felt even more intimate to have his clothing against your exposed skin; you could feel the warmth of his body trapped within the threads of his pants and jacket and it seemed to ease your nerves.

He reached between your bodies and started to unzip his own jacket, but wasn’t the main reason you were in this position because of his clothing? Why would you want him to take them off?

Before he could unzip, you placed your hand over his. “No,” you said. “Leave it on.”

His eyes flickered silently between yours. “No one’s ever told me to keep my clothes on before,” he said, and you could tell by his confused smile that he was unsure whether to feel amused by the irony of your actions or saddened by his past with the Capitol.

It was easy for you to decipher your own feelings—your heart ached for him.

You leaned forward and took his face into your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then both his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally to his lips. All you could do was hope he felt the immeasurable love you placed into each one.

“You are just as attractive with your clothes on as you are when they’re not,” you whispered.

And it was true. If he at any point decided he no longer wanted you to see him naked, you would respect it, you would understand it, and honestly, it just wouldn’t phase you. Because you knew that he would react the same if the roles were reversed. Because your love for each other surpassed the bounds of your physical bodies and you were certain at the dawn of time, he and you were two atoms revolving around one another with the same amount of gravity and reverence you shared now.

Finnick’s hands were now gliding up and down your back; it was like he was setting a fire beneath your skin. His eyes were staring into yours, so full of emotion that you weren’t sure whether or not you should continue.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Finn,” you said, “and we’ll stop.”

He shook his head and offered you a small smile. “I want this,” he said, earnestly. “I want you, sweetheart. Right here. Right now.” And then he was holding your face in his hands as well, bringing you closer. “Always.”

Just before his lips found yours, you whispered in response, in agreement, “Always.”

He was kissing you again, smothering you with love. You had never thought suffocation could feel so heavenly. Over and over, his lips captured yours, each movement deepening the kiss, making it grow in power until you were both gasping for air each time you had a brief respite.

You had only realised you were rolling your hips again when both you and Finnick were moaning into each other’s mouths and your clit started to grow sensitive from the friction of his bulged pants. It really didn’t take long at all for your stomach to begin tightening with pleasure.

You held onto his shoulders, using them to grind yourself faster on his lap as your need for release grew wilder by the second. But no matter how hard or fast you moved, it still wasn’t enough.

“I can’t wait anymore,” you murmured against his lips.

Your hands dropped down to the lower half of his body, pulling up the bottom of his jacket to reveal his belt. You fumbled with the clasp, hastily trying to unbuckle it. Finnick noticed your struggle and lifted his hips into your pelvis—dear fucking god—making it easier for you to tug the belt from the loops of his pants.

“Eager, huh?” he said with a smirk.

“You say that—” The belt hit the ground with a clink, and you winced “—as if you aren’t as well.”

“But I’m not the one with my hand down your pants, am I?”

You wanted to respond with some witty remark about not even wearing any pants, but you had already unzipped his flier and had your fingers curled around his cock. He cursed under his breath.

A winning smile stretched across your lips. “You were saying?”

You watched as his cock sprung past his flier, the length riddled with veins coming from the base and lining up to his warm pink tip which was already coated in a light shine. You would’ve made some teasing comment but given the soaked patch you had left over his groin, you decided otherwise.

As you stroked him up and down, Finnick wiped his hand over his mouth, muffling a groan into his palm. God, he was even worse than you. You loved it.

There was something so alluring about him being covered head-to-toe in black while having the most intimate part of himself exposed. Even more so when you were nearly naked in comparison. The scarce uncovered parts of his body had you feeling compelled to reach out and touch him. Your hand twisted around his cock with each pump and as it did, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to the hot skin of his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed out.

You sucked, he sighed and tilted his head to the side, and then you sucked again. The knowledge that the next day what you two had done would be obvious from the colours of red and purple hadn’t occurred to you yet. You just wanted to taste him. Taste the salt and sweetness of his skin, the unique flavour that made Finnick Finnick. And you wanted to feel him. Badly.

Leaning back, you found that his eyes were already on yours. It was clear at that moment you shared the same thoughts—and they were both dark and lustful. The emotional atmosphere from before had long since disappeared.

“I need you, Finnick,” you said.

He said nothing. He did nothing, all except for wearing the faintest expression of amusement as he stared at you. Why must he always make things so difficult for you? And why did he always look so good doing it? You increased your grip around him, giving his length another pump in the hopes he would react. All he did was swallow some noise of gratification.

Your stomach was pulsing with a burning desire, leading all the way down to your cunt which contracted around nothing.

“Please,” you begged, your other hand gripping onto his jacket. “It hurts.”

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he slowly scanned your body. If he continued looking at you that way, you thought you might actually ruin his pants with how wet you were. You were worried if he did nothing, if he simply stared at you like he was, you would come just from the heat of his gaze. And you didn’t want that. You wanted to come with him inside you.

He inhaled deeply and looked away as if your plea was something he genuinely had to ponder. The nerve he had. Then he looked back at you with the sexiest—or so you deemed at the moment—smile you had ever witnessed.

“Well…” he began, “you know how much I hate seeing you in pain.” Relief flooded through your entire body. He nodded his head as a gesture for you to sit up. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Without a second thought, you rose to your knees with the help of Finnick’s hands which were beneath your thighs. You were desperately fiddling with your underwear, unsure of how to go about taking it off. You tried to push it to the side, but the material wouldn’t stay; getting off of Finnick’s lap to take them off seemed unthinkable now, so having felt hopeless, you whimpered.

“Here,” Finnick said, and then he effortlessly ripped the fabric apart and pulled it from your body, exposing your heat to the tepid night air.

Shock came and left within milliseconds, your mind being too preoccupied with other matters to contemplate his sudden actions. Besides, going commando for the next few days didn’t seem too bad a price to pay for what was about to happen.

You guided his cock to your entrance, feeling the tip just barely push through your slick folds. The both of you watched as you sunk down on him, engulfing his entire length inside you and just as such, you both let your heads fall back and let out a quiet synchronised moan in response.

“Every time,” Finnick whispered ambiguously.

Though he didn’t need to elaborate for you to understand what he meant. Every time somehow managed to feel even better than the last. Every time you would forget how much you actually needed each other. Every time he was inside you, it felt like you were home.

“I know,” you breathed in response.

His hands were on your hips, acting as a guide as you rose, feeling his cock glide through your tight walls before you swallowed him whole once again. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, chest brushing over his with each movement you made. It then came to your attention that the only piece of clothing you had left on was your bra.

The small amount of fabric hardly served you any purpose any more, considering the rest of your body was already on show for the whole world to see. Finnick seemed to have the same idea; he reached one hand up your back and used it to skilfully unhook your bra and slide it off your shoulders. Was it already mentioned that he did all of this one-handed?

Reality quickly set in when your bra fell to the ground—you were riding Finnick, completely naked, in the middle of a rebellion, while at heavy risk of being caught. Anyone else might have thought those string of words to be shameful, disturbing even, but for some odd reason, you no longer seemed to care. About any of it. All that mattered was that Finnick was inside you and he loved you as much as you loved him. Nothing else bore any significance.

You leaned back, so overwhelmed with pleasure that you had to close your eyes, hands still digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled and rose and sank, over and over. Finnick took this as an opportunity to bury his face between your breasts, leaving harsh kisses and moans that vibrated into your skin and hardened the peaks of your nipples.

Your fingers had tangled within the waves of his hair, unconsciously pushing him further into you because the things he could do with his mouth, things as simple as kissing, felt breathtaking. Literally. At this point, you were practically gulping air into your lungs because it felt like he was stealing your breath with each touch his lips made to your chest.

“Oh, god,” you whined, looking up to the sky above as if the heavens could somehow replenish you. Although, you weren’t sure they would be holding you in the highest regard in a moment like this.

Finnick was buried deep inside you as you stayed seated on his cock, unable to find the strength to push yourself upwards anymore. Now you were just rocking yourself indulgently back and forth on his lap, feeling his tip curve repeatedly into your walls and his pants rub harshly against your ass. The muscles in your stomach began tensing and you knew what was soon coming.

Your moans had started out breathless and soft, but as your movements continued, they began rising in pitch, in interval, and in volume. Finnick had no choice but to—heartbreakingly—leave your breasts and return to your mouth to stop the sounds from slipping out, however much they made his aching cock throb.

When it seemed like you had gotten yourself under control, he broke away from your lips to say, “Gotta stay quiet, baby, or else we’ll—” And then he quickly kissed you again to dampen another moan that he noticed was about to escape “—get caught.”

You gave him a sheepish look, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “I know, I’m sorry,” you rushed out in a single breath. “I can’t help it. Y’just so deep inside me. Feels so—”

He jerked his hips up, cock thrusting harshly and purposely up into you. Of course, you gasped loudly. That son of a bitch.

“Yeah?” he said, tilting his head to the side.

You sighed, shaking your head at him. “Asshole.”

He laughed and you could feel it rumbling in your own chest. His eyes were both sea-green and pitch black with darkness as he stared at you through the messy strands of hair strewn across his forehead. Believing he had no idea what he was doing to you all day was idiotic. Of course, he had known. Everything he ever did was in an attempt to rile you up and it always worked.

He knew he was attractive. He knew you found him painfully attractive. Fuck, why was he just so goddamn attractive?

“Hang on,” he said, tearing you from your thoughts.

“What?”

Your stomach lurched and suddenly your body was in the air. Technically, Finnick was still holding you in his arms, but still, you were in the air. Both his hands were curled beneath your thighs as he had stood up from the leather seat, hoisting you over six feet off the ground.

“Finnick!” you exclaimed with a half-whisper.

You were clinging onto his neck in fear of plummeting to the concrete ground. But, come on, this was Finnick. In what universe would he ever cause you any harm?

“Well, I’m not going to let you do all the work,” he said before kissing you sweetly, causing both your grasp on him to loosen and your body to practically melt into his. He pulled away once more, grinning like the devil he was. “If that’s alright with you?”

Your body bounced in his arms as he secured his hold on you and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“More than alright,” you said.

He pressed a light kiss to your nose and whispered, “Good,” and suddenly your back was up against something hard and cold and the brief light-hearted atmosphere had vanished.

Finnick’s body was pressed against yours, trapping you between himself and the concrete pillar which was behind you. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hardplace. His much wider and taller frame made you feel incredibly small in comparison, almost vulnerable in his strong arms, and you loved it. He had you completely concealed from anyone’s view, should they have regrettably walked by, which meant you would at least have a moment’s notice before your virtue was shredded to bits.

Now, back to being stuck between hard places. You hadn’t even noticed he had slipped out of you until he was holding himself in his hand, keeping you propped up against the wall with nothing but his other arm and his body strength, and was thrusting back inside you.

Blood was nearly being drawn from how hard you were biting your bottom lip because Finnick didn’t give you a chance to prepare yourself. His hands were digging into your ass and he was suddenly fucking you so hard, you were worried the concrete behind you would crumble under pressure. You were worried your willpower wasn’t strong enough to hold back the filthy moans threatening to tumble out.

How could you be quiet when all you wanted to do was show him how euphoric he was making you feel?

“How’s that, huh?” he asked roughly. “You like that, sweetheart?”

He was hitting just the right spot inside of you, angled perfectly and thrusting deeply. The skin of your back was scratching against the rough concrete surface with each of his thrusts and maybe it made you a little fucked up to admit it, but the pain of your skin being rubbed red raw while being fucked senseless was exhilarating.

Your head fell back against the wall, so hard the world was suddenly spinning on an axis. It was perfect. Finnick was perfect. Everything was perfect. Your eyes fluttered shut and everything of any other significance disappeared.

That is the only reason you allowed yourself to moan as loud as you did.

“Fuck!”

A large hand had been slapped over the entire lower half of your face and your own also jerked up to cover it in instant regret. Your eyes snapped wide open to see Finnick staring at you with the same visible alarm. You looked over his shoulder to scan for any sign of disturbance but after a few seconds, it became clear no one had heard you.

You looked back to Finnick, who, mind you, was still thrusting in and out of you though with a little less vigour. He was very clearly trying not to laugh. “I guess I’ll take that as a yes.”

You smiled against his hand which he took as a sign to lower it back to beneath your ass. First, you were grinning, then you were trying not to laugh and obviously failed, and then you were both trying to stifle your laughs together as if he wasn’t quite literally fucking you against a wall. The only thing that could break your spell of laughter was the need to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another unwarranted moan.

Finnick pressed his body further against you, smiling wickedly as his cock pushed deeper inside you. You whimpered, fingernails creating red crescent moons on the back of his neck. He didn’t mind.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

You leaned forward to press a trembling kiss to his lips. “Love you too, Finn.”

“Mm,” he hummed, gratified.

Your legs, which were curled around his hips, tightened around him. If there was any way to bring him closer, you would have done it. If there was any way a person could crawl under someone else’s skin and live in their body, you would have been the first to do it. You would have been one with Finnick, wholly and devotedly. That was how much you needed him, how much you cherished him.

Whenever he was inside you, you truly were home.

You were clinging onto him in every way possible. His soft lips were back on yours, gluttonous with love and ardent lust. Your frantic hands were sliding over every part of his body they could reach. Your walls were contracting around his cock; even then, you were pulling him in further. It was all very messy, but it all felt very right.

The protective armour over his chest was rubbing against your bare breasts as your body bounced in his arms. The added stimulation was rendering you restless. That tight, blissful burn was starting to work its way up from your cunt and into your lower stomach, and you couldn’t stop moving. Your legs tightened and loosened around Finnick’s hips. Your chest expanded and inflated shallowly. Your fingers were practically clawing at Finnick’s clothes.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said breathlessly, and then your eyes were staring into his. A strand of hair fell across your face and he brought up a hand to tuck it back behind your ear. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “You can let go.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how hard they were grasping onto his clothed biceps. Like a beating heart, your lower body started pulsating—your stomach, between your legs, your thighs, all the way down to your toes. You were so close to spilling over the edge that everything suddenly became too overwhelming.

Tears sprung into your eyes, both of pleasure and sadness. Pleasure for the way he was making you feel as he thrust into you. Pleasure for the certainty that he loved you as you did him. But sadness for the uncertainty that this could be the last time you expressed your love for each other so intensely. Only the uncertainty wasn’t actually uncertainty.

Somewhere deep, deep inside you, there was a nagging feeling that this really was your last night together. Of course, you couldn’t rely on a nagging feeling as a tell for the future, but it was so strong. It felt so real.

You pulled him forward and crushed your lips to his, immediately falling into a smooth syrup-like rhythm with one another. It tasted sweet for a moment, a dessert consisting of whines from you and restrained groans from Finnick. But then a tear slipped from your eye and the sweetness turned salty.

Finnick pulled back to see the light shine coating your cheek.

He understood. He felt the same way.

“I love you so much,” he said, tenderly wiping away the tears on your skin.

Then he was kissing your shoulder, kissing across your collarbone, kissing up the fragile skin of your neck, the bone of your jaw, and finally back to your lips. Every kiss ravaged your entire being. His cock was curving right up into that sensitive cushiony spot inside you, sliding in and out of you and bringing a heightened sense of bliss each time. You could barely breathe.

It was too much. He was close too, you knew it. Beads of sweat were starting to collect in the strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead; his body leaned further into you, gradually losing strength as his own pleasure grew. He was staring at you the way he always did when he was inside you. Sinfully. Lovingly. And, God, he was breathing so heavily, his grunts and suppressed moans kept slipping through. It was heaven.

Another tear slipped from your eye; from which emotion, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter because you felt incredible. Your whole body was buzzing, the tears kept slipping out, and your reddened parted lips kept letting shallow breaths and choked gasps escape.

“Fuck, I love you,” Finnick said again in a raw, shaky voice, and you wished you could’ve responded but he had already pressed his lips to your forehead and suddenly you were coming.

Your eyes were screwed shut, mouth agape though releasing no noise. You could feel your walls squeeze around his length, covering his cock entirely in sweet white fluid as he hastily continued slamming up into you. His head had fallen to your shoulder, mouth connected with your neck to muffle the guttural sounds he made into your skin as he too filled you up with his own warmth.

You had gone limp in his arms and somehow, he still managed to keep you upright. Existence sort of vanished for a moment or two. Everything and everyone were gone except for you and Finnick. You were pressed so hard up against one another that you were sure any second you would melt into one being.

Eventually, you started to come back down, and your mind started to fill with thoughts once more. Finnick had stilled inside you, catching his breath as he rested against your shoulder. He was trembling, skin warm and damp with sweat against yours. You put your hands on his shoulders, signalling for him to put you down so he could at least regain some amount of strength.

But you hadn’t realised your own problem. As soon as he helped you slip down onto your feet, your weakened legs buckled and gave out beneath you. Before the hard concrete ground could welcome you into its unforgiving arms, Finnick dropped swiftly and caught you in his first. He fell to his knees, cradling your naked form over his lap, arms shaking ever-so-slightly.

A horrible blush overcame you. Your hair was a mess, your face was coated in a light sheen, and you were still naked.

“Sorry,” you whispered, sheepishly.

He shook his head, smiling down at you as though you had nothing to apologise for. His brows did that little scrunch you found so adorable. “You okay?”

You nodded. Had anyone been able to witness the way Finnick Odair looked when he was gazing down at the person he loved, you were certain they would also agree that they were more than just okay. He looked like an angel. It wouldn’t be surprising if a pair of wings suddenly sprung out from his back.

Overcome with love, you reached up to his face, fingers gliding across his jaw. His dimples somehow deepened even more than they already were. You had never seen someone so happy in your life, especially within the confines of a war.

“I wish I could find a more profound way to show my love for you,” you whispered.

His lips twitched and it was as though you could feel his own heart leaping with affection in his chest. His eyes flickered between your own and you knew he was going to say something either witty or something that would have made your knees buckle had they not already done so.

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Your existence is profound enough.”

A few seconds went by before you understood his words—he could feel the immense love you had for him just from your mere existence. You didn’t need to do anything for him to see it, to feel it, or hear it. All you had to do was be by his side, to share the air he breathed. All you had to do was look at him and he could feel the power of it.

You rose into a sitting position, feeling Finnick’s arms curl protectively around your torso. Tears threatened to fill your eyes, but you willed them away. Instead, you planted a gentle kiss on his lips. When you pulled away, a light breeze blew against you, blowing your hair over your shoulders and forcing you to lean further into Finnick’s warm embrace.

“How about we get your clothes back on, hm?” he spoke softly.

You smiled cheekily in response. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to put my clothes on before.”

His lips stretched into a lopsided grin, eyes looking down at you with a playful glint as he recalled the very similar conversation you had earlier.

“Well, there’s always a first time for everything, isn’t there?” he teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of your waist.

Finnick had assisted you with gathering your scattered clothes, even helping you with putting them back on despite your insistence that you were quite capable of doing it yourself. Secretly, you enjoyed it—the silent affection, the lingering touches as he pulled each piece of clothing over your skin. Even doing the simplest things together felt incredibly intimate.

As your arms slipped through your jacket sleeves, Finnick moved in front of you, zipping it up the front and moving on to clipping the overlay buttons. He had this look of pure concentration; anyone would think he was solving the world's hardest puzzle, not buttoning up a jacket. It was adorable.

“Finnick?”

His concentration didn’t waver. “Mm?”

There was a knot growing in your stomach, and it wasn’t the pleasant kind. You had felt it moments before when you were still up against the pillar, and as time ticked away and a new day was closely approaching, it only grew more potent. Every time you looked into Finnick’s eyes, it felt more imminent. Like an impending doom.

The only plausible explanation behind the feeling was one you couldn’t speak aloud. You couldn’t even ponder it for a second, fearing the weight of it would crush the fragile makings of your heart and soul.

You scanned his face, taking in every single feature you had grown to worship. “If I go back home at dawn—” Now his attention had flickered to you “—will you come with me?”

His hands stilled, momentarily confused by your words. This mission was his chance to finally gain back some sense of power that had been taken from him by Snow. Within the next few days, he would be watching Katniss shoot an arrow through the president’s heart and see the life leave his eyes. A few days prior, that would have been more important than anything.

But as he looked into your eyes and saw the life twinkle in the gloss of your irises, the love they held, the future they revealed—a future with you and him together—he quickly realised nothing was more important. And the intense pleading your gaze revealed absolutely shattered him. Nothing could ever be more important than you.

Finnick tenderly cupped your face in his hands. “I’ll follow you anywhere, sweetheart. You know that.”

And it was like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Like a dark ominous cloud looming overhead had finally dissipated and left you with an immeasurable amount of relief. You didn’t know what had caused the feeling or why it had been strong in Finnick’s presence, only that it felt right to be going home and have him come with you.

He leaned forward and kissed you gently, adoringly, and it took everything in you not to melt into his embrace. Your hands held onto his wrists, feeling his pulse thump with life beneath your fingertips. You loved him. You loved him so much that ‘love’ wasn’t even the right word for it anymore.

What he had said earlier came to mind­—how your existence was enough proof of your love for him. That seemed right.

“I exist for you, Finn,” you whispered.

The stars above were twinkling in his sea-green eyes, almost like little specs of bioluminescent plankton. You would happily drown in them if it were possible.

Finnick pressed his forehead against yours, arms snaking around your torso to hold you tightly against him. “I exist for you, too.”

The two of you returned home the next morning. And as the years went by, you continued to exist for one another back in District Four, free from judgement, from tyranny, from the Games.

You simply revelled in existence.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Wondering

I don’t really remember much. I suppose that was always my biggest weakness. I’m part of a slug-like species of aliens known as Skreats. Our whole species thing is that they want to take over worlds by taking over the dominant species bodies and using their resources to conquer the universe. Blah blah blah I synthesized my whole life being taught that taking over hosts was my job and all I was supposed to do but what if I don’t want to?

I never payed much attention to all those logs and protocols about conquering. I just wanted to be free of Skreat expectations.

One day I left logging seminars and just hid inside my sectors pod shit hangar. I know I wasn’t supposed to but the ships are so comfortable so I just stay in there and hang for hours. Then all the alarms went off in the hangar, we were under attack but I didn’t want to get in trouble for being where I wasn’t supposed to be. I acted like I was supposed to be there and after a few more of us piled into the ship I commenced launch.

The ship was an escape pod automatically routed to vulnerable planets to conquer. We were headed to E Arth? As we tried to navigate through enemy lines we almost made it to our destination before being shot down in the planets atmosphere. I just fell and then it all went black.

When I came back to consciousness there was no ship near me just a hard cold black runway of some kind, I believe they’re known as roads. It was dark but sirens blared through the night heading towards a blaze in the distance. THE SHIP! I presumed the worst and tried to avoid being stomped on by these tall earthlings walking by me. I thought I found a good hiding place a lobby of some sort but that’s when I was spotted.

An earthling calling me and took me into the shelter of some clear glass container. He murmured words of snail and take care of. I think he’s under the assumption I’m one of these earth creatures.

For days he would give me earthy twigs and shreds of vegetables assuming that I would consume them. I admit I tried but they don’t necessarily make sense to me or my Skreat organs.

He invited other earthlings over some nights some he showed me to and others he got close to but before I could see what their interactions were he’d whisk him away to a private room away from me. But I did learn his name, Harrison.

I’d spend my days observing Harrison or the visuals he would put on his wall display of some sort. He called these things movies. So many of the ones we would watch had stories of love or adventure. It widened my desire to not conquer a world even more. Maybe that’s what I wanted to do. But I couldn’t, not stuck in my current tiny form.

I’m thankful Harrison saved me but I’ve got to level up. I decided to navigate my way out of the container, which I could’ve always done but I needed a plan first.

He was cooking his sustenance after coming back home all wet from his human secretions. With his back turned to me I leaped from the counter onto his waistband.

I consider it a species specialty that we Skreats are very pliable. I flattened out to slip under and find my way into Harrison. As I slithered towards his rounded backside, I began infiltrating and my savior began tensing up. He began to moan, mixing between pleasure and panic as he realized this was not a moment of intimacy but something else.

He began to switch hard to panic as he tried to fight my ascent but it was too late. I hauled it through so many tunnels of organs and vasculature until I got to his core. I guess you call it a heart. I began inserting my tendrils into it and began spreading myself through his bloodstream.

Pulse pulse pulse. I could feel his heart pumping and eventually I synced up with it. We were becoming one, my life purpose was finally being achieved. I had other plans though.

After Harrison took his last gasp for air, I began using my new earthling lungs. It felt like I was breathing too hard, wheezing for air that felt so foreign to me. Reading brainwaves to figure out things like movement and basic terms.

I decided to calm down and slow down. I used my new extremities and flexed my fingers as they’re called. I used them to start feeling my corporal form. Harrison’s lower back arched into a muscular bubble of a butt. I used one hand to slowly caress each curve before squeezing the firm but malleable ass. My other hand roaming across Harrison’s inflated arms and chest. He spent time pushing and pulling plates of metal and cables to get all this as I scanned his brainwaves more.

I’m sure this looked erotic to human beings but I was truly using this moment to discover earthlings.

I began to take off the coverings Harrison was wearing to see the anatomy it was hiding. So many curves and swerves I thought as I traced my host body with my hands. This body is feeling a nervous response called arousal I think.

Something is growing down below on my front area. I place one hand under the blue restraining fabric.

Firm but not hard as metal, the appendage was warm and almost inviting me to grab ahold. I used my new hand and began examining but as I examined and moved it around it felt exciting to go back and forth with it in my muscular hand. I took my other hand and explored the hole I entered through. I slid one finger in before slipping another then another one in.

Unhh

A sound came out of my mouth that I did not intend for. Is this also another nervous response? I began to give into the automatic responses and sped up. My stroking because more rhythmic and hard as I slid my hand up the hole in my backside. And before I could examine the responses another one emerged. A moan and a secretion.

First one then another then the appendage kept spurting out pulse after pulse of white viscous liquids. I was out of breathe in my new lungs. But curiosity struck again as I approached the liquid on a nearby wall. I got close to investigate and touched the sticky goo.

Maybe it’s nutritious or maybe a safety response? Hmm the brainwaves for this haven’t hit me yet. Well instincts haven’t led me astray yet. I opened my new mouth and used my new tongue to lick the wall clean. I wonder if this is how all food is acquired. Hmm.

[acid-ixx]

Imagine Wally West being the one to have a crush/obsession with reader, it would be cute, however l feel like it would be as if Reader is trying to overcorrect in a way

Instead of dark hair he has bright hair, instead of dark and brooding he’s very vibrant and carefree, instead of no powers all skill he has powers and skill, plus reader can give him a hand signal and BOOM they are back home in sweatpants, watching the latest show they are obsessed with, talking about which actor is better for the main character

On the other hand, I can totally see Wally as the best friend that gives the shovel talk to potential love interests as well as the friend who will straight up ask if reader wants to move in. He’s just so… friend shaped and safe feeling

a/n: imagine waking up to over 20 detailed asks, couldn't be me! but seriously, i enjoy how all of you are into the series as much as i am. there's so much lore potential and love interests that i can insert or another yan! family who would be more than willing to take you away from your batfam so i can see this series being longer than all my other writing.

i'll admit, i never thought of wally being a contender for a love interest but this is so interesting... your reason for being close to him is "if dangerous, why friend shaped?" (albeit unknowing of his love for you) but you just don't want to admit that he's your form of coping by exposing yourself to a person who's straight up the opposite of your family.

though, you have so many other advantages than his physical traits, which would be the power he hones; his speed. sure, you have to get used to the first few months of motion sickness but with enough practice, you'll be blazing off and away from any momentary danger— that danger being your family.

wally often does get flirtatious with you. which means unlike your living circumstances beforehand, you'll be faced with constant compliments and attention here and there that you ought to never notice.

oh, your hair looks so slick and shiny! did you use the new shampoo he bought for you? ohh, you look so adorable wearing his pajamas! you should match with him more often. the necklace he bought for you totally complements your eyes! you should go on a movie date today, babe!

— oh, sorry, did you hear him call you babe? that's totally what friends call each other when they're as close as peas in a pod, you know? it sucks a lot that you never had someone as close as wally. but worry not, darling; he'll make sure you never have to ask for his love, not when he's quicker to reciprocate it.

did he just call you darling?

nevermind that, ahah. wally would totally be the type to glare at anybody who thinks they're better than him when it comes to hitting on you. sorry stranger, but he's your bestest and closest friend in the world, he's your future roommate, your future boyfriend, and nobody could ever reach that level— not that you'd hear that from him directly, but he'll pass that message on anybody who thinks they have what it takes to flirt with you.

after that incident, he'll offer you a place at his apartment, or somewhere far, far away where only a speedster like him can reach; just to guarantee your ultimate protection from obstacles like your family or anybody else interested in you.

yeah! he's such a good friend.

[speed-world]

Hello mr speed can I request a scenario headcannon of the ancient cookies racing a Kryptonian baby reader.

Plot: it was a peaceful night for the ancients as they look up into the night sky. as they do that they noticed a thing that looked like a shooting star but as it got closer it was far from one because when it get closer and closer it turned out to be a strange looking pod. they try to understand what they are seeing but their thoughts were cut off by it crash landed right in front of the entrance of their kingdom so out of curiosity and to make sure it was safe they went out to check it. As they get there and get near the pod it opened up revealing a sleeping baby wrapped in a cloth with a diamond and a weird looking s on it. they are wondering why there was a baby in a pot and where it came from but then the little one woke up and landed their eyes on the ancients and as they did that they started to giggle and reached for them. as they saw this they decided to take them in and raise them as their own I mean who knows they might become the cookie of tomorrow.

Sorry that it's so long

Cookie of Tomorrow

It’s a story we’re all familiar with: a crying child being sent off to another world as his own is dying. Being only a baby when it happened, you had no memory or knowledge of your home, your family, or who you truly are. From the night skies of Earthbread, a faint light was growing brighter as it was descending closer. What appeared to be a shooting star turned out to be a space pod, made clearer as it crash landed just outside the walls of the kingdom. Is this by chance or deliberate? What, or who, was it that suddenly came out of nowhere, and why did it land here?

None of the Ancients knew what to make of a baby cookie falling from the sky, but it’s no surprise Pure Vanilla Cookie the first to take action. He immediately started to check to see if you needed treatment, and made arrangements for a place for you to rest so that he and the other Ancients can properly address the situation later.

As the Ancients took turns looking after you, while also preparing for the war against Dark Enchantress Cookie, Pure Vanilla would be researching through any books, text, or whatever he could to try and see what he could find about you. Working alongside White Lily Cookie, they would look into the symbol on the pod and the pod itself as their only reference.

Admittedly, he didn’t want to spend too much time trying to research through books to potentially find any clues to where you came from. It pained him thinking you were abandoned, and wanted to spend every minute with you, making sure you were healthy and surrounded with love.

Pure Vanilla Cookie’s warm and welcoming presence always put a smile on your face anytime you woke up for the day. He loved holding you in his arms while taking calm strolls with the cream sheep; their fluffy wool made you giggle when you pet it yourself, and there were a few times when one of the Ancients would find you resting peacefully with a few cream sheep around you.

He’d teach you immensely about morality, ethics, and other subjects as you grew older. He always made sure to teach you in ways that would be understandable, changing and adapting the language as you grew from a toddler and older.

One day, Pure Vanilla Cookie found you lifting up three cream sheep over your head. He wasn’t sure what to think about it. It was undeniably adorable to see, and the cream sheep seemed to be having fun, but it certainly wasn’t normal for a young cookie to do that so easily.

The more you grew, it became clear to you, him, and the other Ancients that you had power and abilities far beyond that of a normal cookie.

In a short time, you went from lifting cream sheep, to bench pressing all of the Ancient Cookies. Then come to find out that you can jump as high, and higher than, a few of the castle walls. Things were really scary when your eyes were blazing hot, and then you shot out lasers that cut down trees.

Needless to say, the Pure Vanilla Cookie was very quick to tell you to hide your powers. He was extremely worried you’d hurt yourself or another cookie, and was struggling to keep up with your continuous fast growth.

It was hard on you, you really hated feeling so different, so afraid of yourself. You wanted so badly to feel normal, but it just was impossible.

Thankfully, Pure Vanilla made sure you never felt alone. He always made sure that you felt like you belonged, like you were no different than any other cookie, even though it was clear you weren’t. He was always there for you, looking out for you, teaching you, loving you. To you, he was “Pa.”

Hollyberry Cookie, similar to Pure Vanilla Cookie, didn’t want to spend much time researching for details about you or the pod you came from. In fact, she didn’t want to spend any time with that, she purely wanted to be around you 24/7.

Raising you with the Ancients was a different kind of adventure than what she’s used to, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She would always make sure you were fed the best meals for any strong, growing cookie!

She’s always telling you incredible stories of her adventures, and loved when it was her turn to watch over you, as you would always be spending the days outside exploring and playing. Pure Vanilla said for you and her not to venture outside the kingdom walls, which was a drag for both of you, but you both knew Pure Vanilla only had the best interests for you.

Besides, Hollyberry would make sure you’re protected with her even if you venture beyond the walls. Just don’t tell Pure Vanilla about it when you guys come back.

Seeing your growing strength made her feel like a proud mother. She wasn’t concerned like Pure Vanilla, in fact she personally celebrated special occasions for you whenever you displayed a new feat of your lifting power.

Then came bench pressing the Ancients, and the impossible leaping over the kingdom, then came the heat vision…..yeah, she’s definitely more than concerned about you.

Hollyberry was quick to cheer you up whenever you felt scared or insecure about yourself. She, unlike Pure Vanilla, encouraged you to discover and hone your powers more. They’re a part of you, so why should you hide them? So what if you’re different, you’re you, and you’re more than deserving of love just as much as any other cookie.

She even goes out of her way to design a shield for you, based off the shield from the pod. When it was finished, you’d be using it quite a lot whenever you went out with Hollyberry for your secret adventures.

She loves raising you so much, it lit a spark of joy in her that she couldn’t explain properly. Maybe she’ll have a child of her own someday when the Dark Flour War is over…

Dark Cacao Cookie was not immediately thrilled when you first landed. He was very cautious about the pod that had descended from the skies, but after seeing it was an abandoned child, all his initial worries were replaced with a few new ones.

He was, admittedly, not the best caretaker, definitely not as incredible as Pure Vanilla was, but he always made sure that you were well fed and protected. He definitely tried showing you love, but he never was too good at it.

What he was definitely good at was teaching you how to defend yourself. When it was his turn to watch over you, he would be reading stories and text to you about fighting. Most of them were dramas he found, mainly because he figured you’d be able to comprehend the more colorful stories and characters rather than the gritty details of fighting techniques and tactics.

As you grew older, he spent less time telling stories and more time teaching moves and making you practice. Initially, Dark Cacao wanted to teach you how to use a sword or weapon, but after seeing your unnatural physical strength at such a young age, he figured it wouldn’t be necessary.

While Hollyberry would adventure with you, Dark Cacao would hone your discipline under him. Sometimes it seemed unnecessary to you, since you were constantly told of how remarkably strong you are, but that was exactly why Dark Cacao wanted to teach you when and how to use your power, so that you’re not endangering yourself and others.

Of course, once he saw your powers develop at such a rapid rate, to the point where it felt as if you’d discover a new power every month, there was a lot more emphasis on you needing the discipline, as well as more precautions when it came to it.

He wasn’t too sure what to do about the heat vision and the insane high jumping; Witches knows what he would do if, or when, he starts seeing you fly. Nevertheless, he never treated you any differently, and was always a reliable cookie to confide in, even though he doesn’t outwardly express it.

Although you were showered with love from the other Ancients, he still tries to show more love and affection from himself. Maybe he’ll be better at that should he have a child of his own…

When Golden Cheese Cookie first saw your pod, she mistook it for a sarcophagus. After seeing the live baby inside, she had near-instantaneously declared you a treasure of hers.

She was interested in learning about where you came from, but decided to leave that to Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie. She was way too busy caring for you and maintaining you like a jewel, making sure you were always in the best conditions at all times.

To say she spoiled you would be an understatement. Your bed and room would be adorned with the most beautiful artifacts she had. The other Ancients thought she did a bit much with the gift giving at times, but make no mistake, she showered you with immense love and affection outside of material possessions.

Seeing your strength develop so quickly over time was surprising, but she always behaved like a smug, proud mother seeing you be so strong. When you first lifted her, she discreetly lifted herself up a bit with her wings. Then, seemingly days or weeks later, you’d be lifting her effortlessly off the ground without her support.

It was scary for you as your strength and powers continued to rapidly evolve. You were scared of yourself and scared of other cookies being scared of you, but Golden Cheese was never afraid of it. To a degree, she understood the other Ancients and their decision to keep your powers hidden, but she made sure you never felt ashamed or different for having them.

A fun thing you and Golden Cheese would do together is going around as high as you can, with you jumping up higher than buildings and her flying. And then, you started to fly…she was the first one to witness it one day when you were hanging out with her.

You made a promise with her to hide this from the other Ancients for another time; you didn’t want to stress them further about your power, and she agreed, a bit reluctantly. She was very happy to teach you about the ins and outs of flying in secret lessons.

She treasured you dearly, and made sure any and all dessertians thought twice before messing with you. Even though you could handle yourself more as you grew older, she never let go of, what you described as “momma bird instincts.” You both had a laugh over it, but neither of you would have it any other way.

White Lily Cookie nearly had a panic attack when you first landed. Not because your pod crashed down like a meteor, that was just initial shock. What made her nearly pass out was trying to figure out who or what you were, and why you showed up to the Ancients in the middle of war.

She spends the most time researching, far more than Pure Vanilla, as she has way too many questions. She’d look through every corner of every page of every book she ever read to try to find if any of them had the faintest clue to something about you.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find anything. Nothing about your pod, the shield on it, just everything turned up blank. And that frightened her, because her next best guess was that you were sent from the Witches…perhaps as a punishment for her actions.

White Lily didn’t tell the Ancients about her witches theory, and only said that the research came up with nothing. The Ancients accepted this, and Pure Vanilla told her that now she has all the time to spend with you.

When you were with White Lily, every second felt so calm and soothing. With the others either venturing outside with you and training your surprising strength, she just focused on caring for the little details about you. Making sure you were fed, slept well, and kept you out of harm.

She really enjoyed teaching you about Earthbread and what she knew about cookies. She taught you so much from school subjects to even magic. Granted, you and magic never seemed to get along, but you enjoyed listening to her talk about so passionately that you didn’t mind it when she demonstrated it to you.

She grew quite attached to you over time, you may say she was overprotective. There’s been a few times where you or another Ancient had to calm her down when she started to ramble on about a fear of what could happen to you if Dark Enchantress’ forces found out about you.

After seeing how rapid your strength and powers develop, her fears only skyrocketed. You were unlike any cookie and still so young, it would be absolutely terrible if the wrong hands manifested and manipulated you into their design.

With this in mind, she’d be very present in making sure your powers were hidden from even a cake hound’s eyes. It bothered you at times, but she would have the best in mind for you.

She doesn’t know what your strength may evolve into, but she definitely wants you to continue growing. She’d even write down notes about your feats of strength and whatever powers was discovered about you.

Whenever you saw her taking notes, you asked if she could draw pictures of you doing the power she’d be writing about. She had fun doing this, and asked if there was something special you had in mind when she made the renditions of you.

After showing her the shield that Hollyberry made for you, she would use it as inspiration for drawing you in action poses with it. Eventually, you brought up the idea of a costume, and both of you would workshop ideas for something you’d like. You really liked Dark Cacao’s cape, and said you wanted one like it.

Within the next days, White Lily gave you a gift. It was a cape just for you, designed with the design of the shield with it. You kept that cape with you forever.

Although she was initially fearful, White Lily couldn’t have been any happier than to have met you and raised you with the other Ancients. She made a promise to herself to stay alive and win the war against Dark Enchantress, so she can come back home, continue raising you, and see your smiling face again…

[generic-sonic-fan]

Are Sonic + friends claustrophobic?

Sonic, of course, is the king of claustrophobia. If he can't move his legs he is noping the fuck out of there. Even weighted blankets bug him- he has to be able to move and fidget as he pleases.

Tails isn't classically claustrophobic, but he's got a big fear of entanglement, especially with his tails. He tried a foam pit exactly once and he had to take a few hours to calm down after.

Amy isn't claustrophobic! She likes making tight little nests to curl up in after a long day. You might find her curled up in a ball in a cupboard for hide-and-seek.

Knuckles loves small enclosed spaces. He's an avid caver willing to squeeze through some scarily narrow crevices to find new branches and chart new paths. This dude literally loves tunneling through dirt. Call him if you've got a confined space you need to check out, seriously.

Shadow normally wouldn't be claustrophobic but through trauma related to test tubes and escape pods, he sort of is. (Poor dude can't catch a break.)

Rouge is not claustrophobic! She is in your vents (joke). While she might not like having her wings restricted, she's more than willing to do so to get the job done.

Omega is absolutely claustrophobic and he would never admit it. It's not the proximity or the feeling of the walls close to him that gets him- it's any implication that he might not be able to leave or force his way out if he wants to. Small room + locked door + no windows is a recipe for some very catastrophic explosions.

Blaze is fine with most tight spaces, but the moment her whiskers touch the walls she's out. Nope.

Silver is actually agoraphobic! Poor guy. Being out in the open makes him feel exposed. He'd be much better in a small little space, thank you very much. Generally the only exception to this rule is if he's out in nature- even then he'd prefer a denser forest over open hills.

Vector is fine with tight spaces, but he's a pretty big guy so his "tight space" is a lot of other people's "comfortable room". He deals with it as best he can.

Charmy loves tight spaces. Matter of fact, he is in your walls (joke). This dude has a habit of popping up in all the places you thought no one would ever go. Vector almost turned on the dryer while he was in it.

Espio also likes tight spaces. Because they help with stealth, of course. Plus a good weighted blanket is nice.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He’s still there when you return to your desk. Just like the ring on your finger, Loki is immoveable. Your knuckle hurts from trying to yank it off.

You sit at your desk and try to ignore him as he stares from one of the acrylic chairs across from you. They’re rarely used, more so for the illusion of accommodation than anything. 

His gaze casts a blazing heat over you. Your focus is fractured by his unyielding observation. He hums, a taunting tune, as you type and pretend to be alright. You’re not. You’re far from it. 

That sinking doom is muddled in a sludge of disbelief. You just can’t accept this is real and yet hat pit in your chest assures you otherwise. How did he do this? Thor always says his brother is a trickster and you know well of Loki’s unsavoury past, as most New Yorkers would, and yet, this is nothing you could ever predict. 

“What is it you mortals call it?” He speaks at last, jarring you from your troubled trance. “A honeymoon? Would you like to go away, darling? I know this place on the other side of the moon. Your moon, that is... it’s not too derelict and the sky is rather romantic--” 

“Stop,” you splay your fingers over the keyboard. “I’m working.” 

“Mm, yes, you’ve some time to go...” he checks the watch on his wrist. “What are we at? Less than two hours. I must admit, I am counting the minutes.” 

You stand and take a deep breath, “I need a tea.” 

You twist on your heel and march away. You doubt caffeine is going to help your nerves. It’s more that the flavour is familiar enough to offer some shred of comfort.  

As you enter the breakroom, he’s already there. You hate that. How does he do that? You glance over your shoulder then turn back to the room. 

“What is it you prefer?” He peruses the selection of pods. “Mm, pumpkin spice?” He takes a pod and sniffs it, “smells less than appetizing.” 

“I can do it myself,” you approach him and reach for the box of oolong pods. He catches your hand and runs his thumb decisively over the large emerald. You wince as he keeps hold of you. 

“Darling, I am your husband. Allow me to show you the advantage of this union--” 

“I know why you did it. You get to stay. I never wanted you gone, I only delivered the message. You don’t have to do this. If you want to stay, I’ll lie but this is... it isn’t necessary.” You tug but cannot free yourself of his snare. 

“While that may suffice, I don’t have much faith in your skills of deception. I have considered all facets of this plan and we must prove this union to be genuine, thus we may as well commit--” 

“Loki,” you hiss and his brow arches. “Prince, whatever, this is strange. In your research did you not figure out that ‘mortals’ as you call us get to know each other first?” 

“Not always. Not for the majority of your history. There are some rather entertaining scenes along the way. Some I had the pleasure of witnessing myself,” he snickers. “An arranged marriage is not unheard of, even presently in some regions. I could not wait to charm you but I can more than make up for that.” 

“Charm me? You couldn’t even ask me? Talk to me?” 

“We are speaking now. We are working through our first marital hurdle. Together,” his grin assures you that he is being less than authentic. This is a game to him. “Allow me to prepare your tea, wife. You are hard at work.” 

You scrunch up your nose in frustration and he lets you go as you pull away, “why me??” 

His lashes flick up and down as his lips curve deeper, “when you say my name, I imagine you moaning it, and it doesn’t sound so bad.” 

You gurgle. Your stomach knots and tugs. Something inside you plucks. You step back and hug yourself, as if hiding from him. 

“Uh, I...” you look away and shake your head. “You’re right. I’m working so I would appreciate the tea. Thank you. Just milk, if you don’t mind. Please. Er.” You wobble around on your heels. The slither of his voice sticks in your ears and you smell smoke. What is happening? 

You go back to your desk and sit heavily. You stare at the screen as it hazes to a medley of colours. The font obscures in your distant vision and fold your hands on the edge of your desk. 

This is very strange. This is hard to swallow. It’s not what you had planned for today. Or really ever. Not just marrying Loki but anyone. You’re perfectly happy alone. You’ve built a small life for yourself. It’s not that bad. You like the routine and the simplicity and now he’s gone and messed it all up. 

“Darling,” he purrs as he appears with your tea, jarring you from your gloom.  

You sit back and bite down on your tongue. He sets the cup on your coaster, coming close enough that you roll back in your chair. As he stands straight, you rest your elbows on the armrests. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice now. You’ve already messed it all up.” 

He laughs again. You hate that. He thinks everything is so funny. This is your life. 

“Messed what up, exactly? I know a Midgardian’s life cycle, I’ve lived through many and so by my estimate, you are overdue for marriage--” 

“That isn’t-- oh my god,” you drag your hands down your face. You drop them into your lap and look at him. “When I told you, you were angry. You looked at me like you hated me. So, how do you think this is going to work?” 

“Hate is powerful but there are things that can overwhelm it,” he shrugs. “I do enjoy the way your legs look when you walk in those shoes and your skirt compliments you well. Now, I know you do not hate me, I can read others rather well. You are intimidated yes, but fear can also make one...how should I put this, sexually aroused?” 

“Oh god. Please,” you wheel back to your desk and shield one side of your face with your hand. “That’s not—Like I said, we can pretend.” 

“This marriage is very much real, darling,” he intones. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, it is--” 

“Lokiiiiii,” you growl and pop your head up to snarl at him. 

He smirks and tilts his head, “ooh, say it again.” 

“Stop, please.” 

He chortles and his eyes flare. You don’t like the way they glint, “darling, your dear husband brewed you a tea, please, do not let it grow cold.” 

You sigh and look down at the cup. You raise it and blow the steam away. You sip. It’s rather nice, richer than you would expect. In fact, it’s so good you can’t stop drinking. You’ve had that oolong a dozen times over and you’ve told Tony to get a different brand as it is far from your favourite, but today, it is like honey. 

You wipe your lips at the dribble left behind and set down the cup. Loki resumes his seat by the wall, “hmm, just over an hour to go, darling.” 

[apocalypseofgoodandevil]

Having a hard time characterizing finn? Do you reely need a krillion fish puns?

Look no further, seally! I crabactually mean it!

Ok, all jokes aside im gonna try to make a biiig liat of fish puns for finn likers to use. If there are some I forgot to add, let me know and ill add it n credit u!

List below

Really - eely, reely, seally

Thank - tank (courtesy to @blaze-art )

Feel - eel

Actually - crabactually

Not - naut

Bullshit - bullshark

Mega load of - megalodo(f)

Betray - becray

Tune, ton of - tuna (credit to @suunny-m )

Opportunity - oppor-tuna-ty (credit to @frostyplays )

Believe, belief - be-reef

Million, billion - krillion

Brilliant - krilliant

Kill - krill, frill

Help - kelp

Fantastic - finastic

Humanity - humanatee

Uncanny - unclammy

Jammed - clammed

Sure - shore

Hearing - herring

Surely - shoally

Silly - seally

Crap - carp

God - cod

Enemy - anemone

Selfish - shellfish

Wail - whale

Well - whale

Sofisticated - sofishticated

Ill - eel

Efficient - efishient

Asshole - wrassehole

Cuddle - cuttle

Crazy - cray-zy

Could - cod

See - sea

Flounder

Boy - bouey

Better - betta

Forgot - frog-ot

Chuch - snurch

About - a-boat

Know - min-know

Phrases

Ahoy

Crocodile tears

Red herring

Somethings fishy

Hook, line and sinker

Its not that deep

Load of barnacles

What the scallop

Terms for groups of something

Pod of whales

School of fish

Cast of crabs

[silverequation]

after rewatching the cutscenes for Sonic Colors DS again i really get Silver and Blaze’s dynamic a lot more. they’re twins. they’re both these serious and powerful guardians of their own worlds that are violent and fight Eggman Negative (that’s what i’m calling him now)

they’re two peas in a pod that mirror each other and that’s why they’re completely in sync 

Blaze also has all the parts of Trunks that Silver doesn’t have. she’s shy, reserved, formal and cautious(Blaze even has purple hair and a rich family like Trunks) while Silver is straightforward, blunt, more informal and reckless

and that’s where their differences are dynamics come from. Blaze is shy and reserved while Silver is extroverted and direct and blunt with how he feels like Amy. Blaze has elegant manners while Silver is canonically a messy eater. we see that Blaze adores Silver’s pure unfiltered self almost as much as i do 

Silver is also more emotional and explosive than Blaze, Blaze has her own share of hot-headedness but compared to Silver she’s calm and pulls him back 

they’re the dynamic duo of Sonic

[ladynighthaunter]

You know, I feel people don't understand just how horrific Konrad's first few moments of life was.

Their incubation pod hit Nostramus so hard, it almost breached the planet core... And Nostramus is a Adimantium rich world, so that was a hell of an impact.

From this blazing crater, an infant, crawled their way through miles of super heated rock with no food and water, a task that possibly took weeks, if not months to do... And when they finally reach the surface, what a waits them? A gang of misfits that are so mentally fucked up, they try to kill a child.

Konrad as an infant slaughters them and proceeds to have their first meal in months, human flesh.

Even if it wasn't for the crippling visions of a horrific future, Konrad was pretty fucked up, knowing nothing but pain and suffering in their formative days.

[tallulah477]

Front Row Seat

Part 2 of Private Show

Kinktober Day 25: Caught Masterbating

Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Masterbating, Caught masterbating, Mutual masterbation, Oral (female receiving), Cumming untouched (kinda . . . Lo’ak cums from the smallest of touches), Size Difference, Dom reader, Sub Lo’ak, Slight edging/orgasm delay, Lo’ak being so gone for reader it’s actually embarrassing, He’s such a simp and so in love, Obsessive behavior, Brief mention of panic / panic attack, One mention of dismemberment

A/N: Honestly, idk how this got so long lol

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: Lo'ak's been avoiding you ever since the incident. But you're looking for him, and you want your own private show . . . with a front row seat.

<<< Part One

Translations:

Tewng - Loincloth

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

Iknimaya - Na'vi Rite of Passage

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Yawne - Beloved

Lo’ak feels like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest.

He can feel the panic setting in as he paces the length of the hut. He can’t believe that happened. How could he be so stupid? 

You saw him. 

You saw him - you know what he’s been doing. Know how he’s been creeping on you, watching you through your window at night when you’re supposed to be alone. Know that he’s seen you dance in your room, twirling around as the music moves through you, naked and carefree as the day you were born.

You know that he’s seen you touch yourself . . . and has touched himself to the sight in return.

His hands fly up to cover his face, the cool skin of his hands doing nothing to calm the fire blazing on his cheeks as he groans in distress.

Neteyam looks over at him from where he’s kneeling and carving some new arrows for his bow, hairless brows furrowed in worry. “Are you okay?”

Lo’ak groans again, muffled by the hard press of his palms before he rips his hands away. “No, bro. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay,”

“What did you do?”

“Fucked up,” Lo’ak grunts and crosses his arms across his chest, just to do something with them. “I fucked up bad.”

Neteyam just continues to look at him, waiting for him to continue with a slight arch of his brow. 

“So, I watch y/n through her window at night sometimes . . .”

“Oh, Great Mother,”

“Shut up! I know,” Lo’ak snaps, hands flying back up to cover his face. “I know. But she caught me. She caught me, bro! What the fuck do I do?”

There’s a pause of silence before Neteyam bursts out laughing, earning a frustrated hiss from Lo’ak and two solid middle fingers.

“You’re not fucking helping,” Lo’ak growls.

“How am I supposed to help you?” Neteyam asks, still trying to stifle his mirth. “You’re fucked, brother. You messed up and now you’re going to have to reap the consequences of your actions.”

“She’s going to kill me! She’s already looking for me. I heard her asking Kiri if she knew where I was,”

Neteyam shrugs. “Just get it over with. Apologize to her. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,”

Lo’ak bites his lip, pressure building in his chest as he thinks of all the ways this could go so bad. 

What if you told Kiri what he did? Neteyam can laugh it off because he’s got his own little obsession going on with another Na’vi girl, so he understands the desperate need to constantly see her and be around her. Kiri, on the other hand - she’s a girl. She wouldn’t understand. She’d feel violated, angry at a fellow female being objectified and put in a compromising position. She’d never look at him the same way. 

Or what if you told his dad? Jake would be so upset with him. He would be even more of a disappointment to his father than he already is.

“Can you just,” Lo’ak grits out through clenched teeth. “Can you just help me?” 

“Maybe you can just say you were out for a walk and thought you heard something?” Neteyam tries, going back to his carving. “You just wanted to make sure everything was okay, right? No harm done. Sounds believable,”

“I was, uh- touching myself . . . when she caught me,”

“Yeah, but that window is higher up, right? So she only saw your face?”

Lo’ak grimaces, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah, but– I left my tewng there though,”

Neteyam stops his carving and stares at Lo’ak, deadpan expression covering his face. “You can’t be helped,”

Lo’ak avoids you as best as he can, but it’s hard. 

You’re everywhere all of a sudden. Helping his grandmother in the Tsahìk’s tent, assisting the cooks with skinning and cutting the various meats and fruits for the communal last meal, even offering to watch Tuk a couple of times (which gave Lo’ak the scare of his life when he was about to enter his family’s tent only to hear your sweet voice giggle from inside it).

He’s trying his best to stay away, purposefully taking the long way around where he knows you’ll be just to avoid you seeing him. He avoids dinner a few times, feigning illness. And when he is at dinner, he makes sure to stay close to his family who he’s hopeful can act as a buffer between him and the knife you’re sure to use when you try to dismember him. 

But he can’t stay away for long. The constant need to be around you is too much. He needs to see you, to hear your beautiful voice and experience the way the world is just brighter, happier, better when you’re around. Before he was able to just exist in your presence, never really the center of your attention, but sometimes he was blessed enough to have your eyes locked on his for a few seconds, blunt teeth grinning up at him as your plump lips wrapped around the words ‘Hi, Lo’ak,”. 

And it was enough - enough interaction for him to be able to go back to his family’s hut, slide the privacy curtain shut in his alcove and shove his hand in his tewng, thinking about your pretty smile and your soft voice saying his name as he fists his cock like an animal. Your words, a never ending mantra of Hi, Lo’ak, echoing in his ears as he ruts into his hand faster, whining and moaning as he fucks his fist, his own whimpers of ‘fuck’ and ‘hi’ filling the alcove as he prays to Eywa that no one else is home to hear his shame. 

He can’t not be around you. He needs you, needs you like he needs air in his lungs to breathe. So, this whole avoiding you thing? It’s not working for him. He can’t go on like this - can’t keep creeping around his own village, hiding behind huts and trees, and trying to move stealthily among his fellow clan members in hopes that you won’t see him. He wants you to see him - wants your beautiful, shining eyes looking up at him. He wants to stare back into their depths as you tell him those three words he longs to hear, and have them actually be the meaning he hopes for and not just ‘I see you . . . looking at me through my window’.

He makes it about a week before things hit the fan. 

Tonight is night for celebration - three new members of the clan have been reborn, joining the rank of Warriors and becoming one of The People after successfully completing their iknimaya. The celebration is grand, music and dancing fill the center of the village as the clan celebrates the success of their young members. As the son of the Olo’eyktan and a fellow warrior himself, Lo’ak is required to attend. 

He knows you see him. He’s already impossible to miss, standing next to his father who is wearing his feathered, ceremonial attire - but for the first time that week, you’re not actively trying to get to him. Instead, it’s almost like you’re back in your room, by yourself, and unknowingly giving him a private dance just for him. 

Lo’ak watches you from across the fire as you dance in the flickering orange glow of the flames. Your small body moves in time with the beat of the song, hips swaying as you copy the movements of the Na’vi around you, and Lo’ak can’t help the way his heart pounds at the sight of you dancing to the traditional songs of his people. 

His mouth goes dry as the song turns you to the side and raises your arms up high over your head, granting him the sight of the entire length of your body all stretched out and on display. You're dressed in traditional Omatikaya clothes, the band of the tewng wrapped low around your hips, the extra length of the string dragging almost hypnotically across your thigh with each movement. Kiri must have helped you with the top, the beadwork into carefully draped feathering looks similar to hers, and the feathers fall perfectly over your just barely concealed breasts. 

Lo’ak’s eyes follow the tempting swell at the side of your chest, down the soft looking skin of your ribs and onto the seductive swing of your hips. And he wants. Wants so badly to kneel in front of you, grab your swaying hips in his big hands and drag you closer so he can feel the movement under his fingertips. But then your body turns to the other side and his eyes fall to the piece of fabric you have tucked under the band of your tewng. A very familiar piece of blue fabric - and a feeling of horror washes over him as he realizes you have his lost tewng nestled tightly against your hip. 

His eyes snap back to your face and he chokes on air when he finds you staring back, your own eyes, even hidden behind the glass of your mask, are intense and piercing in the flickering glow of the fire as you stare him down, never breaking your dance. Lo’ak shuffles back, accidentally bumping into Neteyam in his haste to get away from your unrelenting gaze, and Neteyam hisses as his swoasey is jostled, spilling a good bit of its contents on the ground and his feet. 

“What the fu–”

“Sorry! Shit, I’m–” Lo’ak stutters, eyes flickering between Neteyam’s irritated glare and your smirking figure. “Sorry, bro. I gotta go,”

He doesn’t give Neteyam a chance to answer before he’s turning and making a beeline for his family’s hut with his tail tucked between his legs. 

He makes it to the hut in record time, throwing open the thick front flaps and crossing the main living area with only a few long strides. He enters his alcove, scrubbing his hands over his face with a loud groan. Fuck! What is he supposed to do? You have his tewng - you were looking right at him, you wanted him to know you had it. He should be terrified, should be on his knees begging you for forgiveness, to have mercy on him and keep quiet about his transgressions and promise that he will leave you alone forever. 

But instead, his body feels hot, panic somehow ebbing away into desire. There has to be something wrong with his brain, this is not a normal reaction to the situation - but his body disagrees as he starts to harden in his tewng. 

You looked so beautiful dancing in front of the fire, like a goddess sent to him by Eywa herself. The way you looked in Na’vi clothing, the small, barely there traditional clothing of his people hanging onto your body like the worst kind of temptation. The band of the tewng hanging low on your hips, the curve of your ass peeking out from the back flap of material. That’s wrong, his brain says. Tewngs shouldn’t have a cover in the back like that. Traditional tewngs only have the front cover, so you should remove yours - if only to be correct in your Na’vi wear and bare your perfect ass for him to see instead of just the tease of it. 

He’s seen you in less, of course - but he’s never seen you bare so much skin purposefully before. His hands leave his face, balling into fists at his sides for a moment as he grinds his teeth together before he turns and snaps the privacy curtain shut to his alcove. His fingers work at the knots on his tewng, pulling it off and throwing it across the room as he lies down on his sleeping mat. 

Lo’ak’s hand slides down his stomach, breathing already labored as he wraps his hand around his cock. His eyes slip shut as he starts to stroke, visions of you immediately manifesting behind his dark lids. Images of you, on your knees, crawling towards him as he strokes himself - desire darkening your eyes as you watch him with hooded lids as you crawl closer. He whines as he watches you get closer and closer, focusing on your gorgeous face as you bite your lip, how the woven armband adorned with pretty purple beads hugs your bicep, and how your thighs and ass moves seductively with each forward movement just perfect enough to put him in a trance. 

The vision of you stops just in front of him, kneeling up and pulling his lost tewng from underneath your band. It must be so warm, having been pressed against your hip the entire celebration - warmed up with your body heat, pressed against your soft skin and covered in your scent. 

“This yours?” You say, slowly dragging the blue material across the top of your thighs, and Lo’ak moans, stroking himself faster as he watches you tease your skin with his tewng. 

You slide the material over your belly, letting it tickle your skin as you trail it up your ribs. “How many times have you cum in this very loincloth while thinking about me, hm?” You say, sliding the material higher until part of it disappears under the feathers of your top, nudging the bottom of your breast. “Lo’ak?” 

He groans, feet planting on the ground as his hips start to kick up, fucking into his fist. His breath catches in his throat when you drop his tewng and lean over him, arms on either side of his head, maskless face just inches away from his - lips just a breath away from his own. “Lo’ak,”

“Hah-y/n,” He moans, and he wants you to kiss him, wants this to be real so badly so you can kiss him. Just a little more . . . c'mon, just a little more.

“Lo’ak!”

His eyes snap open at the call, the very real call that’s coming from the entrance of his alcove and panic claws inside his throat at the sight of you just standing there, eyebrows raised in surprise, one hand still holding open the privacy curtain. 

It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with reality, but when it does he hisses out a curse, scrambling into a seated position, hands desperately trying to cover himself despite the whole eyefull you’re also still recovering from. You recover faster than he does though, and you step into the room, letting the curtain fall closed again behind you.

“I brought you this,” You say, pulling the extra blue tewng from your hip and tossing it towards Lo’ak. He makes no attempt to catch it, hands still trying to cover his unaffected, throbbing erection, and the material flutters to the ground at his side. “You left it at the lab when you . . . you know.”

Your eyes rake over his naked form and your hands find a place on your hips. “You seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Who were you thinking about?”

The knowing tone of your voice makes the tips of Lo’ak’s ears burn as they press against his head. 

“You thinking about me, Lo’ak?”

The sound he lets out doesn’t have a meaning - just a short, stifled sound of embarrassment as he tries to force out something. Anything. But the only thing he can manage is a way to quiet and stuttered version of “S-sorry,”

You smirk at his apology, pretty lips curling into a wicked grin as you hum noncommittally. He watches with wide eyes as you saunter around his room, peeking in his personal areas as if you had a right to be there, before you turn and lean back against the wall in front of him.

“Don’t be sorry,” You say, arms crossing over your chest. “Be even,”

Lo’ak’s brows scrunch up, his ears flickering slightly in confusion. “W-what?”

“Be. Even.” You repeat. “You got a private show who knows how many times. Now I want one, with my own front row seat. It’s only fair,”

Lo’ak’s head is spinning. You can’t possibly be saying what he thinks you're saying. You want him to . . . touch himself? With you watching?

“What’s wrong, Lo?” You ask, your voice mocking as you pout at him. “You get off on watching, but not being watched?”

“I just– I-I don’t,”

“Hey,” You interrupt, expression switching from teasing to sincere in a second. “Just relax, okay? Just keep doing what you were doing. Show off for me a little,”

Lo’ak’s breathing is shaky as he steels himself, slowly lowering himself to lie back on the mat. One of his hands moves to uncover himself, balling into a nervous fist against his sternum. His other hand wraps around his cock again, long fingers encircling the thick, hard length as his eyes stay glued to your watching form. 

Your eyes watch hungrily as he gives himself an uncertain stroke, the pretty lavender tip of his cock disappearing under his fist before reappearing again as he holds himself at the base. Your back slides down the wall as you lower yourself to the floor, your legs crossed in front of you as you lean forward for a closer look. 

“Keep going,”

Your demand comes out firm, soft voice caressing his eardrums as the demand goes straight to his cock. His eyes stay locked on your face as he strokes himself again and again, a needy whine threatening to burst from his throat as he watches you watch him. He wishes you could get rid of the mask so he can see your face more clearly, but even slightly obstructed with the glass of the mask, he can see the desire written all over it. 

You desire him. You desire him? The knowledge takes the air from his lungs as he fists his cock faster. He pulls away for a moment so he can spit in his hand and he watches as your eyes follow the movement when he wraps his wet fingers around his cock again, smearing the wetness along the heated skin. 

“Yeah, baby. Get it all wet for me,” Your hands make their way to your top, fingers playing with the feathers there. “You want a little more motivation?”

Lo’ak’s hand pauses on his cock as he watches in awe as you push some of the feathers of your top to the side, perfect round breasts suddenly on display for his eager eyes. It’s a beautiful sight - the look of your perky tits framed by colorful feathers, a few rogue feathers hanging between the valley of your breasts. 

“Ah, ah,” You tisk. “I didn’t say stop.”

He gulps as he starts up his pace again, his fist twisting over the sensitive tip on each upstroke. His quiet moans and groans are like music to your ears, and you wish he would be louder so your human ears can pick up on them better. You want the sounds of his pleasure to fill up the room. You bet he would be so vocal if he would just let himself go.

“Don’t hide your noises,” You tell him. “They’re so pretty, Lo. Be louder for me. They make me so wet,” 

His responding whimper is significantly louder and more desperate as he watches you spread your thighs. You flip the front flap of your tewng over your thigh to keep it out of the way and pull the privacy cover to the side. Lo’ak’s mouth waters at the sight. You weren’t lying - you are wet. He can see the way your folds glisten even from across the small room. 

“Y/n,” He moans, and his cock throbs in his grip. 

“You like what you see, yawne?” 

The use of the Na’vi term of endearment makes his heart pound, and his stomach tightens as he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching. Your fingers dip down into your wetness, sliding along your dripping slit before dipping inside and circling your clit. You’re so wet already that Lo’ak’s able to pick up on the squelching sounds your juices make, ears twitching as your fingers rub against the pulsing nub. Slowly, you run your fingers back down your slit, circling your entrance before pushing inside.

Lo’ak bites out a curse as the squelching sounds get louder, and he spits in his palm again to add it to the mess of precum on his cock just to make it extra wet so he can imagine it’s your pretty cunt he’s thrusting into and not his fist. His hips jerk, trying to fuck his hand faster, and the pressure in his belly is building and building, threatening to snap at any second as he watches you fuck yourself with your fingers, enraptured. 

“You close, Lo’ak?” You ask, breathy.

“Mhm,” He moans. “So close. Going to cum,”

At his admission, you pull your fingers out, curling a wet finger at him in a come-hither motion. “Nuh-uh, not yet. Come here,”

He whines at your words, his body mourning the loss of stimulation as he pauses his hand on his cock. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to stop, but can’t find it in himself to disobey your order. What if you make him stop completely? What if this was just a huge game of payback and you don’t let him cum at all?

You raise your eyebrow at his hesitance, voice low and seductive as you say, “Don’t you wanna taste me first?”

He should be embarrassed by how quickly he rips his hand away and scrambles onto his hands and knees as he gapes at you, desperate. “Please! Y/n, please,”

“Come here,” You say again, and this time, Lo’ak doesn’t hesitate. 

He crawls across the room and is in front of you in a second, and you stand up from the floor as he settles on his heels in front of you. In this position, the size difference is stark. Even sitting back on his heels, he still towers over you. His breathing is heavy as he stares down at you, amber eyes swallowed up by the bottomless pits of his pupils. 

“You can touch me,” You whisper, and he feels something snap inside him.

He leans down, pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck. You hum at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His warm tongue slides against your skin, savoring the taste of you on his taste buds as he licks across your collarbone and, oh, Great Mother, you taste so much better than he’d ever imagined. He breaks contact just for a moment to skip over the places that your top is still covering, mouth latching onto the top of your breast as he bites down lightly on the supple skin, canines digging into the round flesh as you gasp, and then soothing the marks with a gentle kiss. 

“Lo’ak,” You say, your small hand caressing his jaw and angling his face up towards yours. “That’s not where I meant.”

He groans, stealing a quick kiss at your nipple just to feel it before he hauls you up high against the wall. He has you spread out in front of him, one tip-toed foot planted on his thigh for balance while your other leg is thrown over his shoulder. His hands shake from where they’re gripping on to your thigh and calf, nervous excitement ripping through him as he breathes in the smell of your arousal. You look like a goddess above him, a creation so beautiful that sometimes he wonders if he’s actually crazy and he just made you up in his head. But you’re here, above him, spread out for him like the most mouthwatering feast - and he wants to devour you. 

One of your hands cradles the side of his head, sweeping the stray braids away from in front of his eyes, while the other adjusts your tewng and pulls the privacy cover to the side again. Immediately, he digs in - tongue lapping at your soaked folds like a man starved. You taste so sweet, like the most delicious treat, and Lo’ak’s eyes roll back into his head as he greedily gulps down your juices. His tongue flicks against your clit before he wraps his lips around the swollen bud, sucking harshly and returning your high pitched moans with a groan of his own.

“Yes, yes,” You cry. “Feels so good, Lo! So good,”

Your hand moves from the side of his face to fist into the loose braids at the back of his head, beads clanking together as you twist them around your fingers, holding his head against your core as if he would ever dare pull away. His cock throbs, needy and forgotten as it hangs between his thighs. He can feel how precum drips from its tip, beading up on the head before it becomes too much and runs down the underside of his cock. 

The hand on your calf wraps around his aching length instead, stroking quick and rough as he digs his face into your pussy. But all too soon you’re pulling his head away, grip firm on his braids as he’s reluctantly pulled away from your core, and he whines in dismay when you maneuver yourself back down to the floor.

“Relax,” You giggle, laughing at his forlorn expression. “I’ll give it back. Lie down,” You press your hand to his shoulder, guiding him to lay back on the floor as you kneel next to his head. “Keep being a good boy for me, okay?”

He nods frantically, eager to continue to please you. He’ll always be a good boy for you, the best boy. He’d do anything for you if you let him. 

His breathing hitches when you toss your leg over him, thighs straddling his head, puffy pussy just a breath away from his face. His hands grip the tops of your thighs, pressing you down on him as his mouth impatiently latches back onto your core. Your own hands press against his flat stomach, balancing yourself on his body as you gaze out at the long expanse of toned muscled before you. 

Lo’ak’s cock is hard and thick against his belly, precum oozing from the pretty lavender tip and into a puddle just below his belly button. You watch as it jumps occasionally, the line of precum connecting his cock to his stomach even as it lifts up slightly just to settle back down on his stomach. 

You lean forward more, arm reaching out with fingers outstretched and Lo’ak whimpers loudly against your pussy when your fingers make contact with his neglected cock, the vibrations sending shivers through your body as you moan in response. 

“You’re so big, Lo’ak,” You say, hips rocking on his face while your fingers trail lightly over the sticky, swollen head. It twitches against your fingers. “You’d stretch me out so good.”

He whines against your cunt, long fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as his feet plant themselves on the ground. His hips kick up, desperately trying to get more of your touch on his aching cock - but you stay teasing, just the brush of gentle fingertips as they trail up and down the heated length. 

His tongue works against you faster, more and more desperate the more your tiny fingers tease his cock. He can feel the build up of his orgasm rapidly approaching again, and he twists his hips frantically as he wordlessly pleads against your cunt for you to touch him properly. He wants your tiny hand to wrap around his cock like he’s always dreamed about, wants to feel how your fingers can’t even wrap around him completely because you're so small.

But you don’t - instead your fingers make their way back up to the head, rubbing firm circles against the sensitive frenulum, and Lo’ak’s entire body tenses as his orgasm rips through him, rope after rope of release shooting onto his stomach as he cries against your folds. 

You don’t give him anytime to recover, and he’s still shaking through the aftershocks when you hump faster against his face, using his mouth as your own personal toy as you chase after your own orgasm. Your back arches when it hits, thighs clamping down on either side of his head as you ride it out on his tongue, and he must have died at some point during this encounter - he must be dead, because the only way to describe how perfect this is, how amazing you taste when you cum - only this kind of euphoria can be found in whatever release of energy that Eywa promises at the end of life. 

When your orgasm is over, you slowly lift off of Lo’ak’s face and settle down next to him on the floor. He’s still shivering and shaking as you both lay there. He’s exhausted, but his eyes stay open despite how much they want to close and sleep now. He doesn’t want to lose a second of this. What if he falls asleep and this was all just a dream?

But then you look over at him, beautiful and fucked out looking in your afterglow, and a wicked grin stretches across your face. “That was fun. You should come visit me at the lab again. But this time, come through the door this time, yeah?”

<<< Part One

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @chaoticfaelle @nilsavatar @fandomhoe101 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx

[galactic-knightmare]

Posting my old Sonic art Part 1

mm tasty tasty poll numbers lmao

Anyway lets start this off with the AU that I still haven't finished! (I might finish it later but we'll see)(Ya'll get to see the deformed squids that used to be how I drew hands lmao...)

Unfortunately I never finished Rouge's bio thingy, but now that like, ya know, I'm hyperfixating again I might end up redoing all this.(We'll see)

All of these are back before I decided on my preferred name, so their all signed Fidget or Fluffeh-Shiba instead. like shit, I'm not sure I even knew I was ace yet back then lmao (I figured that out when I was in the middle of making my Lifesize shadow plushie, so maybe inbetween the classic drawings and the bios?) its still the exact same style of signature though, with the white letters and magenta outer glow. (some of this older art in the folder has the super old signature on it though, from before I started dating my art lmao)

ANYWAY since I just threw a bunch of AU art at ya'll, lemme explain some bits of it! Its a swap au (obvs) with mainly Team Sonic and Team Dark, but also with a lot of other characters that I never got around to drawing the stuff for. Essentially, Sonic and Shadow were both on the Ark, with Shadow having just been created (he was a smol babums) and Sonic just living on the ark/being adopted by the scientists. the Ark raid still happened, and like in Canon Maria got Shadow to an escape pod thing, but, ya know, died. Sonic this time was the one traumatized, and GUN, thinking he was the ultimate lifeform (he wasn't) put him in the stasis chamber, eventually leading to SA2 (my favorite game not even gonna lie- not my first game though, that was Sonic Forces) the lifepod for whatever reason had stasis stuff too (Plot convenience!) and the baby was in there for fifty years until it's systems started failing, waking him up. Vanilla, while out in the forest, heard the angy baby noises and investigated, finding said baby and decided "Oh hey, free baby!" and Cream ends up with an older brother when she's born. the original idea was that Vanilla dies at some point, thus making the two orphans like how Sonic and Tails canon are (or at least not around parents? dunno if their actually orphans. the basic idea is that fuck no Vanilla would not want her kids doing dangerous shit so I had to get her out of the picture) but tbh I might be able to think of something else? I can't just pull a disney and kill everyone's parents... (not to mention I like Vanilla and Cream...) eventually the big bad (not Egg) pops in. everything is business as usual (baby Shadow running deliveries for people) and Cream ends up coming across a Chaos Ruby (phantom ruby swapped). the big bad, who I had only called The Traveller so far (I know who it is obvs I just never said it cause baby me wanted to be like OHO REVEAL TIME BITCHES) ended up kidnapping her because he wanted the ruby, thus starting the regular sonic storylines. Rouge and Knuckles are also swapped obvs. Rouge is the last of a bat tribe that lived on Angel island and protected the Master Ruby. She's still obsessed with treasure, she just tends to be guarding the ruby so it's not as obvious. Knuckles is a GUN agent and owns a bar, later ending up with two impulsive blue hedgehogs for a team (Sonic and Metal, who's swapped with Omega.) Theres more obvs, like how the Superforms are silver now instead of gold and such. (I think Blaze and Amy were swapped???) Eggman was kidnapped by The Traveller somewhere at the start before eventually being rescued (probably somewhere around SA2/Heroes) and ended up being the adopted Uncle of Team Shadow (He's a semi-responsible adult. responsible enough to be concerned and all but Eggman-enough to be like "hmm teenagers in dangerous situations fighting demons? thats normal.") Anywhere theres more but like, I'm tired of typing this out honestly and my attention span is failing again LMAO so here have the WiP of my Shadow design in the new style I'm trying out

Shadow with three eyes my beloved (I still haven't seen the third movie or played the new generations...)

[beuxwhoyouare]

Bewildering

The Skreat escape pod crash landing on Earth one night caused chaos in more ways than one. Several people’s lives were altered forever by the events that immediately followed the ships blazing destruction. It was dark as sirens blared through the night heading towards the blaze.

I woke up by the shrieking sounds of alarms approaching. We crashed on some foreign planet after the sudden attack. My biggest fear was being captured on this planet, what if they were the ones that attacked us? What if they took me and tortured me for species secrets. I couldn't let them know about Skreats and began slithering as fast as I could through the area lined with bark lined towers.

2 figures approached in the night, but I couldn't focus on identifying features and chose to hide. Suctioning my way up a bark tower, I chose to use my observation skills to determine if they were friendly organisms or foes determined to take me in for experimentation.

"Raph I don't think we should get closer. We should go back to camp and evacuate. It looks like it could lead to a big wild fire," the shorter of the two pleaded with the bigger one.

"Alex, dude. There's no way it wasn't like a giant secret ship or something insane that caused it. Didn't you hear that crazy crash? We gotta see this thing first hand," the taller and much more statured of the two said with a boomy resonance.

The two were going towards the ship crash at a rate faster than I could slithering on this planets gravitational pull. I decided they were my way to observe the site and get there faster. I dropped my suction and aimed to fall on their bags. After detaching, I aimed to fall on the broader one since it seemed like my size would be negligible on him.

After falling onto his bag, he turned around as if he heard something behind him, but by that point I had slid into an opening on the enclosure. We Skreats are very pliable and I made my way into his bag.

The pair of earthlings made their way closer to the ships crash site but by the time they got there bright lights and tape marked off the region. Curiosity struck many trying to get a sight at the alien ship. I peaked out of the bag only to see the blaze. There’s no way any Skreats could have survived such a blast.

Numb. All I felt was numbness as this earthling unknowingly carried me away from the scene. Was I the last Skreat? How does one internalize the idea that you’re the last of your kind? The bag shook and then got flung onto a nearby soft surface after a loud door shut. I flew inside the bag which rocked me back to cognizance. Where am I now? I peaked out of the fabric cage I resided in and saw the taller one walking around a room.

He peered into a doorway that emanated light before pulling out a round red sphere and taking a bite.

He appeared to be preparing earthen sustenance…I should become more accustomed to this if I’m the last Skreat I’ll need to blend in with the earthlings. I left the soft seat the bag was thrown onto and slid my way closer to get a better look.

He threw things into a hot cauldron item over a flame. After a few time sectors he was done and put some of the substance into a bowl, that’s when I lost my grip on some steam and fell into the bowl when he wasn’t aware.

I hid among orange, green, and tan bits of sustenance in the hot salty broth. I stung but I couldn’t risk being caught. Eventually a colder metallic platform came into the bowl and lifted me up to his front facing orifice, despite my protests I got swallowed again without his notice.

I refused to be defeated. I mustered up the energy and detoured before meeting the earthlings digestive acids and headed to his core. I guess you call it a heart.

Once there, I began inserting my tendrils and began spreading myself through his bloodstream. It’s a large task for such a small Skreat like myself to attempt a takeover of a creature this large but I was desperate to live.

The large creature began to notice and clasped hard at his chest. But it was too late for him. Pulse pulse pulse. I could feel his heart pumping and eventually I synced up with it. We were becoming one. It’s a skill of the Skreats but it was my first time doing it. I was scared to do it wrong or worse…kill the host.

I began trying to use my new lungs. A phenomenon that like sounds like gasping for air from those who normally use lungs. Eventually I calmed down and brought the heart pulsing down to a normal seeming speed. All the internal systems seemed to normalize as I calmed the body down.

Except one part of the sizable earthling….

I used the body’s messaging device to take an image for further research later. Then I continued to calm the body down leading the appendage to become more restrained. But a message appeared from someone named Babe. I opened it up to see a slimmer earthling with longer hair. They appeared unclothed with a message saying “can i come over?” I replied with my new fingers “affirmative”.

I continued to try enjoying the sustenance the human made before. Wow these sensations from my new mouth were so vibrant and exhilarating. I wonder what else I can figure out. My new thick fingers fiddled with the bag I came out of nearby. An item flopped out with a bunch of cards, I picked up one with this bodies image.

Raphael James Conrad Lee. Was that his identification? That seems very long and superfluous. Must be why that other human called him Raph before.

A knock came to the door of the housing unit I was in. I approached the door and instead of investigating almost as if the host was on autopilot it turned the knob and a tiny earthling stood there in a see through top piece of clothing and a frilly bottom one. I believe this must be the opposite gender, a woman.

She lunged at me piloting the host and placed her mouth on to mine introducing her anatomy to mine. I reciprocated before she yanked my bottom clothing down. My previously hard appendage revived itself with a mind of its own as the woman placed her mouth on it.

All I saw was her eyes as she moved swiftly. One she placed her mouth on it, it felt like all I could see was colors. Oh my what is this phenomenon. Ohhhhh unhhhhhh. What are these sounds escaping my mouth. Before I knew it, the feeling became overwhelming. I felt something coming. My hosts feet previously firmly planted on the ground, curled its toes. My abdomen contracted and then a RELEASE. I opened my eyes as she wiped something. She placed her mouth on mine again and said “thanks”. Before immediately fleeing.

What was that? What is this experience. And why does it feel so good?

I need to understand more about what this appendage does. I wonder if that tiny male human that was with “me” earlier might want to do the same activities with his appendages. I try to recall his identification. Cmon I knew I heard him say it. Lex, Ale, Alex….Alex? Yes.

I picked up the messaging device and snapped an image. I copied the text the woman sent me. “Come over”. Maybe that’s how humans that want that activity communicate it to one another.

Almost immediately the device buzzed.

“Oh bro I didn’t know you rolled like that too?”

What do these words mean? I don’t want him to out me for acting outlandish…okay I can do this.

“Yeah bro. So are you cuming?”

A hand with a thumbs up appeared above the message appeared? What does this mean? So much to learn about this planet. I better start learning if I want to blend in.

The door was never closed after the woman left and a one pound happened on the already opened door. Before I could approach it to see who it was. Alex was there at the door. I could see the same energy the woman had in his eyes. He slammed the door behind him and unclothed himself with haste. He also had an appendage hard like mine, but smaller. Was my body considered an alpha amongst men?

He approached with eagerness but also a tenderness, unlike the woman. I put my mouth on his like she did to me. I was about to show Alex everything I’ve learned about earthlings.

[she-who-paints-with-fire]

It's weird. I know the history of the ships in my battlegroup better than my hometown.

The UNS Dreams of Tomorrow. She was assigned to Battlegroup Breaking Dawn right after the Aelysian Crisis, where the first flagship of the battlegroup, the Kentworth, went down in a blaze of glory and our Admiral earned her stars. Since Day One she was the headquarters for the Last Light Detachment. I've been living on her... almost every day I've been deployed with the Seventh, honestly.

The Tyche. She's a lucky ship. Caspian Sea-class frigate with nary a scar on her hull, always being shot at but never shot. She's the oldest ship in continuous service with Battlegroup Breaking Dawn and has barely taken a scratch in all that time.

The Revenant Star. She's the oldest ship in the group, period, but that's because she got blown up centuries ago and then restored and pushed back into service with a few weapon upgrades for good measure.

The Oaths Kept. She's inseparable from her Captain, one Sariah Rose. The crew almost seem to hero-worship her. She, in turn, seems to hero-worship them. I've seen the Oaths Kept fight off armies of PIPECLEANERS, pirates and other boarders.

The Unstable Fate and the Black Cat. Two peas in a pod, those destroyers are. You never see one without the other.

Sometimes, I feel more connections to these ships than I do my actual home. Is that weird? I don't know.

I'm rambling. Whatever. I'm slightly drunk and very tired and desperately in love. Gnight, Omninet.

|| KARATEKA ||

[thestarkperspective]

one short pl/eng - piekło dla wybranych / hell for the chosen.

Pole bitwy tętniło życiem – niczym chaotyczna symfonia nieustannego zgiełku. Tony Stark unosił się w zbroi Iron Mana, wyświetlacz migał czerwienią, gdy drony wroga zataczały kręgi. Pot perlił mu się pod hełmem; serce biło w nieokiełznanym rytmie, ale w głębi duszy czuł coś więcej - coś, co rozrywało go od środka. -Jarvis, podkręć głośność! - rozkazał, a ryk AC/DC rozdarł powietrze, zagłuszając wrzask maszyn. Ale nie zagłuszył bólu w jego sercu - wspomnień o stratach, o Pepper, o tym, kim mógłby być, gdyby nie wybrał tej drogi. Uderz, uderz, uderz! Repulsory zionęły ogniem, rozrywając drony na strzępy. Każdy strzał to nuta, każdy unik - zwrot melodii. Tony wyszczerzył się, a adrenalina napędzała jego geniusz.

-Tańczcie ze mną, blaszaki! – rzucił zuchwale, wirując w powietrzu, z rakietami ciągnącymi się za nimi. A to, co potem? Było ucieczką od tego, co naprawdę trawiło go od środka. Rytm się załamał. Dron otarł się o zbroję, a iskry śmignęły w powietrzu. Ból przeszył jego bok, lecz on parł naprzód. - Nie! - warknął agresywnie, wystrzeliwując potężny ładunek z repulsora i przekształcając ostatniego wroga w pył. Cisza opadła, melodia zamilkła, ale w jego głowie wciąż dudnił ogrom emocji których nie potrafił się wyzbyć. Wylądował, zdejmując hełm i dysząc ciężko. Pole całe dymiło, co było jedynie dowodem kolejnej walki, którą stoczył z przeznaczeniem. Tym razem wygrał; tak właśnie kończyła się ta symfonia. W środku jednak wiedział, że tak naprawdę przegrał. Stracił wszystko.

_________________________________________________________

The battlefield pulsed with life – a chaotic symphony of relentless clamor. Tony Stark hovered in his Iron Man armor, the HUD flashing red as enemy drones circled menacingly. Sweat beaded under his helmet; his heart thumped to an untamed rhythm, yet deep within, he felt something more – something tearing him apart from the inside. -Jarvis, crank the volume! - he commanded, and the roar of AC/DC ripped through the air, drowning the machines’ shrieks. But it couldn’t silence the pain in his heart - memories of loss, of Pepper, of who he might have been had he chosen a different path. Strike, strike, strike! His repulsors blazed with fire, shredding drones to pieces. Each shot was a note, each dodge a melodic twist. Tony grinned, adrenaline fueling his genius. -Dance with me, tin cans! - he taunted boldly, spinning through the air, rockets trailing like a refrain. And yet, what followed? It was an escape from what truly consumed him from within. The rhythm faltered. A drone grazed his armor, sparks streaking through the air. Pain seared his side, but he pressed on. - No! - he snarled fiercely, unleashing a powerful repulsor blast, reducing the last enemy to dust. Silence fell, the melody died, but in his mind, a torrent of emotions he couldn’t shake still roared. He landed, removing his helmet and gasping heavily. The field smoked – a mere testament to another battle fought against fate. This time, he won; thus ended this symphony. Yet deep inside, he knew he had truly lost. He had lost everything.

/ not my art. /

[trashytummies]

batfam vore crack

a/n: this is way longer than i thought and so ooc lmaooo -- idk bruce can somehow shrink ppl and they can't digest bc dense molecules or somethin, pretend it makes sense bc i didn't really think it thru lol.

-----

Bruce walked in, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up --classic trying-to-pretend-he’s-normal Bruce-- but Jason’s sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in his posture. A slight tightness in the way he carried himself, his usually flat stomach curving outward ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

Jason blinked, fork pausing mid-air. His mind connected the dots in a blaze of growing dread.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Jason muttered, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve got to be kidding me." He jabbed his fork toward Bruce’s middle. “Tell me you’re not doing that thing again.”

Bruce, with all the casual gravitas of a man discussing a board meeting, replied, “It’s efficient.”

“Efficient, my ass!” Jason’s chair scraped back as he stood, waving his hands. “We’re not some--some army of joeys for you to carry around like a freaking marsupial!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t this resistant before.”

Jason scoffed, pacing away. “Oh, you mean when I was thirteen and didn’t know better? Sure, B, back when I still thought it was cool that Batman could turn into a one-man escape pod.” His voice dropped into a mocking lilt. “‘Oh wow, Bruce, your stomach’s so warm and soft, thanks for saving me from those assassins!’” He spun to face Bruce again. “Yeah, pass.”

Bruce was silent, watching Jason with that infuriating patience of his. It only made Jason’s skin crawl more, his unease growing as he remembered the last time he’d been in there. A bad night after a bad mission. Nightmares. His mother. Bruce offering a solution -- an unorthodox one, but it had worked.

And Jason had hated that it worked.

“Not happening, Bruce,” Jason said firmly, shaking off the memory. “I’m too old for this crap. And, frankly, it’s weird. Just use the Batplane to transport people like a normal person.”

Bruce sighed, stepping closer, his shadow swallowing Jason’s smaller frame. “Jason,” he said, voice low and steady, “I know you don’t like it. But it’s safer. You’ve been reckless lately. If something goes wrong--”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bruce!” Jason snapped.

Bruce’s gaze softened, just slightly, in that way that always threw Jason off. “I’m not saying you’re a kid. But you’re still family.”

Jason flinched. Damn Bruce and his emotional sucker punches. He looked away, jaw tightening. “Family, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause last I checked, family doesn’t shove each other into their guts.”

“Dick accepted it,” Bruce said evenly.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course, he accepted it -- he probably volunteered. Probably climbed in with a big, dumb smile like, ‘Gee, Bruce, this is so innovative!’”

“He said it was comfortable,” Bruce deadpanned.

Jason gawked. “He said what? Oh, that’s it. I’m out. Dinner was great --props to Alfie-- but I’m done. Bye.” He turned to leave, boots thudding against the hardwood.

But Bruce was faster.

Jason barely had time to curse before the flash zapped him, and the world tilted. One moment, he was storming toward the door. The next, he was tiny. Like couple inches-tall tiny.

And, to his horror, Bruce was already reaching for him.

“Oh, hell no! Bruce, don’t you--”

****************************

“Hey, Jaybird!” Dick grinned, throwing up a hand like they’d just bumped into each other on a street corner instead of, you know, inside Bruce’s stomach.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason jabbed a finger toward him.

“Oh, you know, just the usual family bonding stuff.” Dick shrugged, his grin widening. “Came for the ambiance, stayed for the company.”

“Don’t you dare laugh this off--"

“I’m not laughing!” Dick said, holding his hands up defensively, though his tone was anything but serious. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jason let out a growl of frustration, kicking the water at his feet, though it only ended up splashing onto his own legs. “You are such a--”

“Jason?”

That voice was smaller, softer, and Jason turned to see Tim standing a little further away, looking tiny as hell next to Dick. His arms were crossed tightly, his whole posture screaming discomfort.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jason threw his arms out. “You’re here, too? What, did Bruce swallow all of you before dinner?”

“Not all of us,” came a sharp, clipped voice from somewhere behind Tim.

Jason peered around him and spotted Damian, perched on a high ridge, looking irritated beyond belief.

Jason blinked, then barked out a laugh. “Oh, great. The whole circus. Wonderful.” He threw a hand toward Dick. “Let me guess, this was your idea.”

Dick didn’t deny it, which only made Jason more annoyed. Instead, he clapped his hands, the sound oddly muted by their surroundings. “Look, before you freak out--”

“I’m already freaking out!”

“--this is a trust-building exercise!”

Jason stared at him. So did Tim. Damian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “idiot” under his breath.

“A what?” Jason said, voice dangerously low.

“A trust-building exercise,” Dick repeated brightly. “Think about it--Bruce clearly trusts us with his life, or he wouldn’t let us in here.”

“He didn’t let us in here. He ate us,” Jason shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the fleshy ceiling.

“Semantics,” Dick said with a grin.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Look, it’s not just about trust,” Dick went on, ignoring Jason’s rising blood pressure. “It’s about contingencies. Think about it -- what if we get separated in the field? What if something like this happens for real? Wouldn’t you rather have this experience under your belt?”

“No!” Tim and Jason snapped in unison.