#finnick x reader x peeta

[anatay004]

𝐈’𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝖥𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖮𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗋 (18+)

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘢. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧. 𝘚𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫’𝐬 “𝐢𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤”

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵

𝘰𝘳 𝘵��𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.

YOU FOUND IT FUNNY.

Hilarious, actually.

How something so simple — so harmless, could make Finnick's jaw tick with anger. At first, you chose to dismiss it, cataloging his behavior as something as silly as him just being an asshole. But then you began to notice it more often until the ticks in his jaw were death glares and backhanded comments.

And, surprisingly, it all started with a compliment. Back when the lovers of District Twelve won their games President Snow had thrown an enormous party in their honor. As a Victor, you'd been forced to attend the event alongside Finnick Odair; whom the people of Panem loved to interlace you with. Yes, he was from your District. And yes, he was gorgeous.

But, curiously enough, you both detested each other.

Perhaps, it had something to do with the fact that he lived right across from you in the Victors' Village. Or that you'd been mentoring tributes with him for years. Or that he loved to step on your garden on his way home just to make you knock on his door and watch you throw a fit about it.

The list could go on — infinitely.

But, on that particular night, when you were forced to interact with the lovers of District Twelve; Peeta's eyes caught your attention amidst the conversation.

"Your eyes are beautiful." You'd said, harmlessly, as you tilted your head to scrutinize his features curiously. Peeta simply blushed and mumbled something along the lines of, "Thanks. You are very beautiful yourself."

But that was enough to send Finnick fuming.

And, simultaneously, you'd managed to piss off Katniss too; who more than often tended to get under your skin for various reasons you didn't care enough to list. So, in your personal opinion, it was a win-win situation for both of you. You pissed off Finnick. And Peeta pissed off Katniss.

At first, you did it for the fun of it, but then the aftermath of the interaction set ablaze your skin in the most pleasurable manner you'd ever experienced before. Seeing Finnick so pissed — so angry, was a mercurial high you'd never experienced before. Its bone-deep effect was enough to turn you greedy and that greediness eventually turned into a routine.

So, when you were reaped for the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games and left with no choice, but to be stuck with Finnick again; you tried to make the best out of the situation. So, you entertained yourself by flirting with Peeta, which was the easiest and most effective way of pushing down on Finnick's bottoms. You flirted with him in the elevators, in the training room, and — sometimes, even in the rooftop.

Anywhere near Finnick sufficed, really.

It was the highlight of your day.

And it was easy to keep the act with Peeta; he was surprisingly good at toying with words. And the best part, in your opinion, was that neither of you took the game seriously enough to build something more beyond that.

So, it was fun — until one day it was not.

The day before the games, when you were waiting for Finnick to finish his interview with Caesar Flickerman backstage, was when your own little game ended up hitting you in the butt. Under the limelight, you could appreciate the green hue in his eyes as you watched him through the screen. He was gorgeous, you couldn't deny that, and it almost irked you how much he knew that as he smiled at the camera; dimples creasing.

Naturally, the audience cheered for him.

"You're drooling, sweetheart," Peeta's voice broke into your reverie and, almost instantly, you threw him a glare over your shoulder. "Careful, I might just think you want him too.

"Who?" You asked, feigning innocence.

"The tall, blonde muscular man in front of you."

"Oh, him?" You turned back to face the screen, trying to act nonchalant. "I don't know him."

Peeta scoffed, incredulous at your indifference.

"Well, for someone you don't know, you sure seemed interested enough to piss him off." He acknowledged, shifting closer to your frame.

"Guilty?" You quipped, allowing the warm skin of his arm to brush against yours. "Besides, you love pissing Katniss off. And trust me, she's way worse at hiding her dislike toward me than Finnick is."

"She's not." Peeta quickly objected, and you rolled your eyes. "Besides, she's different."

"She tried to shoot me once."

"I said different, not sane."

"Besides, she looks at me like she wants to hunt me down and eat me." You confessed, subconsciously sweeping the brunette a glance. To your luck, she wasn't paying attention to you; too preoccupied talking with Johanna about the wedding dress she was wearing and whatnot.

"I could eat you." Peeta suddenly grinned, and it took everything in you to not let your mouth fall agape. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

"I knew you weren't as innocent as you pretend to be," You laughed, completely oblivious to the words Finnick had just blurted out on stage. "What?" You asked Peeta when you noticed a shift in his expression. "Did I say something?"

Peeta swallowed hard. "No, not you..." He trailed off, and you instinctively followed his gaze back to the screen. "But your boyfriend just did."

"My what?" You exclaimed.

"I can't believe it!" Caesar suddenly gasped, relishing the way the audience loudly cheered for something you'd just missed."Finnick Odair and (Y/N) (Y/LN), ladies and gentlemen, are officially our lovers from District Four!"

"What the fuck?" You cursed, trying to dismiss the heat that was traveling up your cheeks as you took in this new information. Peeta, on the other hand, found the situation quite entertaining to watch.

"How long were you planning on hiding this from us, Finnick, huh?" Caesar confronted, and the audience naturally laughed along with him. "Tell us, what more are you hiding from us? We are dying to know, aren't we?"

The audience cheered loudly.

It was so swift, the faint smirk that itched Finnick's lips as he thought about his next words carefully (as if he hadn't planned them out already). But the expression had been there — for a split second, and you'd caught it. Fuck me, you thought, when you recognized the malice behind the familiar gesture.

"We are expecting a baby."

No, you weren't.

But you should've seen their faces.

The statement alone was enough to make you falter on your spot. For a moment, you watched as the audience stood up from their seats and erupted into an inconsolable mess. Demanding answers and, surprisingly, even for the games to be stopped — for the sake of your child. His child.

"Congratulations," Peeta remarked, and you almost forgot he was standing next to you.

"I'm not pregnant!" You hissed, throwing the blonde a look. Belatedly, catching the teasing smile that curved his lips as he raised his hands in defense. To his luck, your attention was quickly redirected to Finnick, who'd happened to step back into the room with a nonchalant expression on his face.

You made sure to waste no time in confronting him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You venomously hissed, pushing him back in evident anger.

"Are the pregnancy hormones hitting you already, sweetheart?" Finnick deadpanned, relishing the way the skin of your face flushed.

"You bastard." You spat, almost throwing daggers at him, before realization quickly flitted across your face. He'd just labeled you as his on live television; he'd just made you his ally and forced an act to fall upon you. "Oh, fuck me."

A grin stretched across his lips. "I thought I did." He said, just loud enough for Peeta to hear.

But he only blinked in response.

"Wha — no we didn't!" You argued, dismissing the looks that you were starting to receive from the Victors. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You should relax," Finnick dared to suggest, and it took everything in you to not slap that grin off his face. "It's not good for the baby.

"You fucker —"

" — okay, separate." Haymitch suddenly interjected, forcing you to step back from the blonde. "Whatever this is, you need to keep it together, and — you, sweetheart, are about to step on stage in front of all those people. So, I suggest you cool it down and follow along with his little act if you want to stay alive. We are in the games, honey, remember that."

You supposed Haymitch was right; the damage had already been done. The least you could do was take advantage of the situation, but that; somehow, managed to piss you off more. Now, you were stuck in a fake relationship with Finnick — scratch that, you were stuck with Finnick and his baby.

You clenched your jaw tightly as you tried to quench the fire that retaliated in the pit of your stomach. You hated this; you hated Finnick, but more importantly — you hated not having the upper hand in the situation.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you're up next."

With a knot in your throat, you managed to collect your thoughts and follow the directions you were beckoned to. But not before pushing past Finnick on your way upstage, "I hate you."

He grinned. "Break a leg, baby,"

A few hours later, you found yourself inside an elevator. You were on your way back to your floor, where you were hoping to get a much-needed rest. Today, as you could tell, was not your day. Most of the tributes were already back in their rooms by the time you'd stepped inside the elevator and you were thankful for that. So, you threw your head back, shut your eyes, and leaned against the wall to enjoy the fleeting and rare bouts of silence.

Until the doors parted.

"Oh, fuck me!" You audibly groaned, when you opened your eyes and caught sight of Finnick's figure.

A smirk stretched his lips. "What's wrong, baby?" He deadpanned, pressing the number to your floor.

You rolled your eyes. "Fuck off."

"Mhm," He clicked his tongue, stopping just in front of you. Establishing a dangerous short distance between you two. "That's not the way to talk to me."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

He gave you a one-shoulder shrug. "Given, you know, the fact that I'm going to be the father of your child."

Irritation alongside anger shoots down your spine; forcing your body to visibly vibrate. Or, perhaps, it was the electric tension in the elevator that made you shake— the small gap between you and Finnick. Whatever it was, you tried to dismiss it. "I'm not pregnant!"

Finnick watched you for a moment; without a word, simply examining your features. After a minute, when you were almost certain he was going to back off and leave you alone, he added. "But you could be."

You froze on your spot, trying to keep your head from reeling as you thought about his words. He must be joking. "You think you're funny, don’t you?"

"Think about it," Finnick suggested, taking a deliberate step closer. Instinctively, you fell back a step. "We could get you pregnant. Take all the sponsors. Make the Capital love us," Your back hit the wall. "And that could save our asses in the arena again. Easy win."

Inwardly, you found yourself considering his suggestion — for a split second, before reality (and embarrassment) washed over you. "That would never work." You said, matter-of-factly, before straightening your posture and looking at him in the eye.

"Want to test it?"

The elevator stopped.

"You're sick." You hissed, taking advantage of the opening of the doors to exit the situation, but before you could even take a step out — you were pulled right back in. Within a blink of an eye, your back was pressed against the wall and your arms were pinned over your head as Finnick Odair looked down at you with evident amusement on his face.

"What?" He breathed out, ignoring your loud complaints and attempts to escape him. "Can't handle a taste of your own medicine?"

Incredulous, you blinked. "What?"

"I know you do it on purpose." Finnick elaborated, and your eyebrows knitted together; unsure of what he was referring to. He must be losing it, you thought.

"What the hell are talking about?"

"I know about the game you play with Peeta."

Oh.

Your face dropped.

That game.

Then you frowned as you belatedly realized he was getting back at you. Well, two can play that game.

"Is that a fantasy of yours or something?" You tried to change the subject elsewhere, dismissing the way Finnick rolled his eyes as you played dumb. To your luck, you couldn't quite fool him or escape him.

"I could ask you the same thing,"

"What is it to you, anyway?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. Suddenly remembering you could easily take the upper hand in the situation. "What I do or don't do with Peeta?"

Finnick's jaw ticked.

"Oh, I see," You teased, puffing your chest out; trying to gain advantage. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

A chuckle escaped his lips; low and humorless, as his eyes traveled down to follow the movement of your chest. "You think I'm threatened by lover boy?"

Your lips twitched. "Admit it."

Finnick's lips suddenly stretched, dimples creasing as he looked down to stare at yours. "You're crazy."

"I can tell when somebody wants me, you know?" You toyed with him, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible when his eyes suddenly darkened with a shade of green you couldn't put into words. Jesus, you thought to yourself, he's stupidly gorgeous.

Finnick's eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" He dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning deliberately closer to your face until his breath was pressing against your skin.

And it was then; in that moment, when it suddenly dawned on you that you had to make a choice. The choices were simple — no-brainer: curse him out, flip him off, or take him back to your room.

"What's wrong, baby?" Finnick chuckled when he noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor. "Nervous?"

Pick your poison, babe.

"You wish." You retaliated, a little faintly, trying to keep yourself from giving in. "Asshole."

"God, you're incorrigible," Finnick whispered, but before you could open your mouth to answer back, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was rough and it clouded your head momentarily; you don't think anyone had ever kissed you like this before. But it didn't matter because you reciprocated with equal fervor — to no one's surprise, and quickly followed his lead.

Heat retaliated in the pit of your stomach when his knee parted your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as he deepened the kiss. Your arms eventually fell to your sides when he let go of them; putting his hands to better use as he ran them down your body. Down your neck, your chest, your hips, your ass.

But you didn't attempt to escape him this time.

"We're in an elevator." You reminded him, breathing heavily as he slid his hands underneath your dress.

"Mhm," Finnick hummed, dismissing your comment as his mouth trailed down your neck. As if he almost didn't mind the inconvenience; the morality wrong misconduct. "I'm in the middle of something."

Take him back to your room.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. "Come on, we're not animals." You beckoned him, ignoring his audible groan as you dragged him out of the elevator. But before you could step out — you abruptly stopped in your tracks, making him stumble right into your back.

"Jesus, you want it here or there?"

"Shut up!" You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, trying to hide the faint hues of pink that tinged your cheeks. "I still hate you, by the way."

Finnick's laugh ricocheted off the walls; warm and almost contagious. He knew it wasn't true.

"As long as you have my baby, sweetheart."

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

[moonxnite]

I smile like an idiot when I see my man, who’s not my man, on my television screen.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

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

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[lovesicklovermia]

normalise making a list of character x readers u like to read so you can spin a wheel every night before bed to decide ur bedtime story xx

[xspeter]

do yall ever think about the jaw dropping fics that are probably sitting collecting dust in someone’s drafts rn.

[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI

The Water Scene in Catching Fire Defines how Peeta, Finnick, and Katniss Eat pussy.

I’m sorry, but I believe this wholeheartedly .

Peeta Mellark is gentle, smooth, and soft. His tongue leaves trails in brushy strokes against your clit, lips wrapped around the swollen bud and suckling. He uses his fingers to slowly curl into your sweet spot— the tips of them massage your inner walls perfectly, and he lets out tiny whimpers as he devours your cunt. He may talk, mumbling out tiny praises against your lips, blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

��Love your pussy, love it so much..”

“squeezing my fingers so good, can’t wait for you to squeeze my cock, baby.”

“Cum, please please cum all over me… I’ll be a good boy!”

He eats you out anytime you ask him to, and sometimes a lot of the time when he feels like using his tongue. When he cums, he’ll do it grinding himself against your leg like a desperate, whimpering puppy. <3

Finnick O’Dair is wild, untamed, and sloppy. His mouth devours you as he fucks your hole with his tongue, his fingers bruising against your thighs as he laps at your cunt. Groans spill from his lips, and honestly he’s too busy tasting you to speak. But sometimes, if you’re being extra bratty, he loves to slap your thighs and pull away with his chin dripping with slick to scold you.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop squirming? Keep your fucking legs open.”

“If you yank my hair like that again, you aren’t getting my mouth for a month.”

“what’d I tell you, huh? Don’t make me have to duct tape that pretty mouth shut.”

Oh my god, he literally is always between your legs. He mostly always initiates it because he just loves your pussy so much, and you get shy when asking him. Sometimes he’ll pull out his cock and jerk it sloppily between your legs and ride out his high by marking his cum all over your lips. <3

Katniss Everdeen is skilled, precise, calculated. Her mouth latches onto your pussy without a second thought, the tip of her tongue rubbing circles into your clit. She presses her fingers deep, draws out orgasm after orgasm. She doesn’t care if you say it’s too much. Her mouth will move hot between your legs and she’ll make you cum over and over again until she wants to stop. She respects your boundaries, of course, but in this case you almost always ask her to push you over your limits. She’ll tell you where to put your hands, or where to guide her when she’s eating you so she can get it just right.

“No, I said to put them over your head. Don’t make me tell you again, okay?”

“How many times have you came? Three? Four? Oh, that’s cute. But you’re going to have to give me one more.”

“Grab my hair, not too hard— just like that. There’s my good girl.”

She does it when you suggest, or when she’s stressed and needs a snack distraction. When she cums, she does it by letting you return the favor. Your mouth kisses up her thighs, and you practically drool as you settle yourself between her legs <3

@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

[melaninforkings]

a piece of me dies every time im reading a fic and taylor swift lyrics pop up😭 then i realize the description of the oc or “reader” are very white coded like OH! that’s not…

[boypied]

THE CUM-FILLED GAMES.

pairings: peeta mellark x male reader x finnick odair

summary: finnick and peeta are too pent up during the games, so they decide to use male reader to help release their horniness.

requested by: anonymous

warnings: SMUT, anal sex, threesome, spit roasting, double penetration, choking.

You flop your body down against the sand, watching the waves clash against the shield that's blocking it from coming into the section of the beach you're on, Finnick and Peeta sit down either side of you laying their weapons down almost simultaneously. "So what do you guys miss about the outside?" I ask them while I continue watching the waves clash against the forcefield, Peeta's face lights up when he comes up with an answer."I miss the bakery, " he says in a soft tone, causing you to smile slightly, "y'know what I miss?" Finnick says with a huge smirk on his face. He gets up and pulls off his grey skintight suit revealing his rock hard cock, "I miss sex." He says in a seductive tone.

"...and I need a good blowie now," he says as he gently slaps his cock as it springs back into place, your eyes widen but you're practically drooling at the thought of tasting his salty pre-cum. You slowly crawl across the beach to him, wrapping your lips around his perfectly pink tip, "mhm" you moan out as the taste of his pre-cum coats your mouth. He's all you can taste, and you aren't complaining. Peeta watches from afar, and he nibbles at his lip, "I'm not missing out on this," he mumbles to himself as he strips himself out of the skintight spandex revealing his bushy pubes and girthy cock.

Peeta makes his way over and the wet sound of your mouth taking every inch of Finnick's cock gets louder as he gets closer, Peeta leans down and gently pulls down the zip of your costume sliding it down revealing more and more of your naked body, "fuck" he mumbles to himself as your body gets revealed to him in all it's glory. The way your back arches as Finnick grips either side of your head and thrusts his cock to the back of your throat, his cock coated entirely in your saliva. "Best. Blowjob. Ever." Finnick groans out in between breathy moans.

Peeta gets down on his knees and cautiously leans closer to your exposed asshole. He gently opens up your cheeks as wide as they go so he can really dive into your boy-pussy, he's worried about hurting you, you can feel his hot breath against your hole so you wiggle your ass slightly pushing it back showing him how much you want it. Finnick continues to face fuck you, causing your cheeks to redden with each time your face gets pushed into his pubes. Peeta finally licks a wet strip up your hole causing your body to shiver from pleasure.

You whimper around Finnick's large cock as Peeta's tongue pushes through your tight muscle ring and into your hole, he gently pushes a finger in aswell having it run under his tongue. The feeling of your throat being bruised from a thick cock was incredible but add someone finger and tongue fucking your hole; you could've busted right then and there but you held off. Peeta leans away from your hole slightly lining up his cock and gently pushing it in, he grips onto your hips as his body pulsates slightly. Finnick blushes at the sight, his cock disappearing into your throat and also Peeta's cock disappearing into your hole.

"Look at the way his ass jiggles Peeta, it's mesmerising," Finnick coos out to Peeta as he picks up his pace as his groin slaps against your ass causing it to ripple. In the control room President Snow watches this all unfold, his cock hardening "if you'll excuse me...I need to use the bathroom" he says to a technician as he adjusts his cock leaving the room. Finnick groans before pulling his cock out of your mouth, "Peeta... stop for a moment and go sit by that tree" he says in an almost demanding tone but Peeta obliged cause why not.

Peeta adjusts himself slightly before getting comfortable, he begins to jerk off his cock while he waits for whatever Finnick has just come up with, he whispers something in your ear and you immediately begin to walk back over to Peeta you hover above Peeta's cock with your back against his body, you slide down causing Peeta to let out slutty submissive moans. You lean back, resting your body against Peeta, where he presses kisses all over your neck, Finnick stumbles over and lifts up your legs, resting them on his shoulder.

He lines up his cock with your already full hole and with one thrust his tip is making its way inside. Your hole stretching to accommodate the size of another cock was the best feeling you've ever felt, the curve of both their cocks was an ungodly pleasure. After a couple of moments of their cocks twitching and pulsating they both begin to buck their hips back and forth gently pushing against your sweet spot in one way or another.

"m-mhm!" You whimper out as the pleasure takes over your body, the feeling of Finnicks hands on your hands and Peeta's hands trailing up and down your chest before finally settling round your throat, he tightens slightly as he begins to sexually choke you out. You stick your tongue out as your hole gets pounded into a pulp, constantly hitting your sweet spot. Your stiff member rubbing against Peeta's perfect body.

"You close?" Peeta and Finnick say in sync, causing you to chuckle slightly before nodding your head, with a couple more double thrusts from Peeta and Finnick they unload their seed into your hole. Finnick puts his hand over your mouth as Peeta pumps your cock a couple more times before you spill your load all over his body. "M-MHM!" You moan against his hand. Finnick's body collapses onto your back, where he whispers sweet nothings into your ear while he gently nibbles your ear lobe. Peeta watches as he gently cups your face and leans up to kiss your lips, "fuck... round two?" You hispers to the two of them causing them to smirk.

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

[anatay004]

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."

Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.

It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.

"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.

When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.

So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.

"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."

"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.

"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.

So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"

Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.

"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.

"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."

"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."

"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.

"Then why are you always looking at him?"

You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.

"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."

With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"

You pretended not to hear him.

"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."

There was a moment of silence.

Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."

Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.

"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"

Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.

"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.

This was not part of the deal.

Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.

You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.

"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.

"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.

Is it so bad to marry me?

Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.

"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.

"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.

"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."

Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.

"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."

You took a deep breath.

Remember why we're here for.

"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."

Your head was spinning again.

"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.

You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.

And, somehow, Finnick did too.

"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.

"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.

But he wasn't convinced.

And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.

"Finnick Odair"

"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."

You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.

Remember why we're here for.

With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.

Remember why we're here for.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."

You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.

It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.

"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.

"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"

The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."

"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."

You blinked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"

The crowd cheered.

"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."

Your mouth fell agape.

For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?

Was he even okay with that?

What the hell was he thinking?

"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.

"Are you really trying to have a baby?"

"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?

Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."

"You don't say."

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."

"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.

As if he'd suddenly understood something.

"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.

"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.

"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"

You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.

All while Peeta grinned at you.

"You should've told me about the baby."

Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.

Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.

Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."

"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.

"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"

You didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.

"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."

And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.

"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.

You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."

"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"

Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."

Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.

"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "

"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?

"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.

"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."

"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."

He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.

"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."

Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"

Your question made him swallow.

"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"

Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."

You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.

"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.

"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."

Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.

And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.

And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.

But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."

And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."

Your mouth went dry. "What — "

"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."

"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."

Your heart sank when he shook his head.

"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.

"We could win the games."

"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."

He was right.

And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.

And you didn't want to lose him just yet.

"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.

"Always."

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.

Finnick was gone.

Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.

“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”

“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.

“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”

Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.

For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.

Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?

Team Peeta or Team Finnick?

Please let me know you thoughts

@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom

[phefics]

peeta mellark is gentle and romantic. he doesn’t want to seduce you, he wants to worship you. he’ll wine and dine you, bring you home, take off your heels and rub your sore feet, kiss his way up your legs, before eating your pussy until you cum twice, shouting his name. he might need a little guidance, his tongue fumbling for your clit, but once he finds it, he won’t leave it alone until you’re spent. then, he’ll cuddle up to you and let you sleep on his chest.

gale hawthorne is dominant and cool. he’ll bend you over a table and fuck you from behind, which would be impersonal if he weren’t kissing your shoulders and back, muttering sweet nicknames the whole time. he thinks his cock is enough to make you cum, and sometimes he’s right. his rough, calloused hands grip your hips hard, but his kisses are sweet.

finnick odair is cocky and wicked. he’ll spoil you in rich food and flashy jewelry, pick you up and carry you to bed. he knows every way to make you cum, but he purposefully teases, keeping you on edge, desperate and begging for him. he fucks you good, holding your hand as the mattress creaks with his every thrust. he laughs when you whine for more, but obliges, fucking harder, deeper. after you’ve both cum, he’ll drag you to bathe with him, washing your hair for you before carrying you back to bed.

coriolanus snow is arrogant and selfish. he smirks at you across the room, entices you with those blue eyes. he gets you into a quiet room, maybe even a closet, and pins you against the wall. he sucks marks into your neck and chest, all teeth, before hoisting you up, his hands on your ass, fucking you rough and fast. he finishes inside you, panting. after he’s finished, maybe he’ll ask your name, maybe promise to see you again.

sejanus plinth is devoted and careful. he’s gentle, mostly, but if you tell him that you like it rough, he will happily oblige. he likes to take it slow, building you up before he fucks you, using his fingers or his tongue to get you nice and wet. if you ask nicely, he’ll even let you cum before his cock has even left his pants. but once he’s inside you, he’s feral. messy, desperate kisses, gently squeezing at your throat. after all is said and done, he’ll kiss your neck where his fingers once were, tell you he’s sorry for being rough, that you’re perfect.

[natti-ice]

in another universe, your favorite characters are reading fanfic about you. Feel special.

[nyra-42]

that feeling when you REALLY like a story you just started but then you're like . . . i should check to see how many chapters/parts/pages that are left before I get too excited.

And when you were expecting maybe 5 there's actually 30!!!!!

TEARS OF JOY!!! 🥹😭🥹😭🥹

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[hs-is-loml]

hot take that shouldn’t really be a hot take:

you are meant to fall for young coriolanus in TBOSAS because that is what makes him gain power is his ability to be charismatic and manipulative. he’s devious and conniving but his attractiveness and charm is what makes you over look how cunning and calculated he truly is. everything he does is wily and to benefit himself more than anyone else. so yes, by all means don’t fall for the man for what he later does to finnick and peeta and literally hundreds of other. just maybe realize that’s the whole point of coriolanus snow, and how he rose to power.

not to mention that tom blyth absolutely ate this role up for how well he portrayed the manic transition of coryo to snow