#grace talks��🌷

[allisluv]

aaahh yay for a new charger!! Hmmm ok if it tickles your fancy, can I request a Finnick x reader fic post-rebellion where she’s feeling perhaps a touch soft, maybe not even realizing it (like just a heavy/triggering day where she’s feeling anxious) and Finnick knows, doesn’t comment on it, just hovers/takes over stuff for her to lessen her load? (Sorry if it doesn’t make sense - I got excited & wanted to send something in hahaha)

farmers market.

pairing: finnick o'dair x shy!wifey

content warnings: reader is having a rough go of it, use of petnames, pre-established relationship, set post-rebellion, finnick is so soft and sweet it's giving me a tooth ache (/pos), teasing, banter, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, not edited.

word count: 2k

author's note: elle, i hope you don't mind me writing this one for finnick x shy!wifey! i hadn't intended to originally but i started writing and i was like this is so them coded for me not to, you know? so, without further ado... here's my first finnick x shy!wifey oneshot. requests for them are open!! please do note that this can be read as a finn x reader insert too if you prefer that!! also this is my first time writing in a hot minute so please be kind. reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Bad days tend to creep up on you like the calm before the storm, and without really knowing why, you welcome those days back like an old friend.

Its strange, when you think about it; you would think that the promise of a life without a constant war would feel reassuring but in reality, all it does is instil you with greater fear, and that is saying something.

In no way shape or form are you saying that you would have preferred to live under Snow's rule-- even less under Coin. You're simply saying that it feels terrifying to have this glorious taste of freedom, when in the back of your mind, there's a voice that reminds you it could all be taken away from you in a matter of seconds.

Finnick can tell something is weighing heavily on your mind when you toss and turn in bed all night. He combs his fingers through your hair, and presses soft kisses to your forehead, but no amount of comfort is able to soothe those reeling thoughts.

Eventually, you manage to doze off with Finnick's arms wrapped tight around you. Still, your sleep is broken and even then, you cant escape your anxiety.

Finnick watches over you as you rest. When a crease forms between your brows, an indicator that your dreams are not being kind to your weary soul, he uses his thumb to smooth it out. When a pitiful whine slips past your parted lips, he holds you closer and mutters words of reassurance into your hairline.

It's nearing noon when you finally start to stir. Finnick's arm had gone dead long before now, but he figures the pins and needles that shoot through his arm are well worth it if he has you in his arms like this. He watches as your eyes lazily flutter open and you absentmindedly sink deeper into his embrace. "Hi," He whispers into the silence. You wipe your eyes and mumble something incoherent. He smiles. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

You hum sleepily as you nuzzle your cheek against his bare chest. He is warm and soft and he smells like home. You can't help noticing the absent scent of saltwater and a frown tugs at the corner of your lips. "You didn't go swimming?"

Finnick wraps his ankle with yours under the duvet. "Didn't want to."

Your frown deepens and even in your half-asleep state you know he's lying, so naturally, you call him out on it. "I call bullshit." You try to sit up straighter but he eases you back down onto his chest with a quiet hum. "Why didn't you go? You always go swimming in the morning."

He kisses your forehead. "Maybe I just wanted to stay here with you." His fingers trace a path up your back. He normally does go swimming every morning; it's somewhat of a ritual for him. But he doesn't want to leave you when he knows you're having a rough go of it, especially when you're almost as stubborn as him and won't ask for his help. "Is that okay with you?" He teases.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but his hands are gentle and soft on your body, and it eases some of the pent up tension in your frame. "Hmph. I suppose so." It's meant to be a joke, but your voice falls flat.

He doesn't seem to mind. He knows you're bound to be snippy or sad or on edge or all of the above. Hes had his own fair share of triggering days since the war ended and he's been the exact same. He just gives a quiet hum so you know he isn't ignoring you, and then he allows the silence to settle.

There's still a pit of unease in your stomach, but it's lessened slightly by his presence. "What time is it?" You ask after a while.

Finnick cranes his neck to one side to check the alarm clock on the bedside locker. "One."

You swear you give yourself whiplash as you shoot up and he grunts softly at the loss of contact. "In the afternoon?"

"No, in the morning. See the stars outside?" Finnick deadpans, trying to lighten the mood. You shoot him a withering look, and he grins and sits up now, too. "Its alright, angel. We're allowed to have a lie in every now and then." He soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder blade.

"We've got to go grocery shopping today," You argue, but it's a weak protest, even to your own ears.

"And we've got plenty of time," He responds patiently, smoothing his hand up and down your back once more. "It's a Sunday. The market doesn't close until seven. Just relax, my love. It's all okay." He knows you need to keep yourself busy on days like this; it's a way to remind yourself that you're controlling something.

He shifts onto his knees, the bedframe creaking underneath him, and wraps his arms around your midsection. "It's all okay." He promises. A kiss to your shoulder again. "We can get changed and leave right now if you want to, alright?"

You melt into his touch before giving a stiff nod. Maybe if you're out of the house, it'll ease your worries a bit, or at the very least distract you. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss to your neck this time around. "Okay."

"Yeah? That sound like a plan?"

You nod, more relaxed this time. "Yeah."

Finnick gets changed in a matter of minutes, and is ever so patient as he waits for you. He watches you flit between your wardrobe three or four times, choosing an outfit and changing your mind once you go to put it on,

"I'm sorry," You say quietly on your fifth time around. Your deft fingers anxiously toy with the hem of your sleep shirt as you sift through the contents of your wardrobe.

He's perched on the edge of the bed, and he offers you a gentle smile as he sees your fingers move to your mouth. You gnaw on a hangnail, and he pushes down the urge to lovingly scold you. "It's okay. Take all the time you need, angel. I'm in no rush."

Once you're finally dressed and out of the door, Finnick can't help but notice the way your eyes dart around nervously. He knows that you're no doubt feeling more wary, and he wants nothing more than to help soothe your heightened emotions. "So, angel, I was thinking." He slips his hand into yours as you move. He doesn't seem to mind how damp your palm is.

"Hm?" Your head whips around to see him. "Sorry?"

"I was thinking." He repeats patiently, matching your pace. He knows that you need a distraction right now and he Is more than eager to be of assistance. "There's this lovely cove off the coast. Malcom-- you'd know him, he's the coast guard-- was telling me about it. It's about an hour or two from here by boat. It's meant to be gorgeous out there. I was thinking we could go snorkelling there one day, if you'd like."

"I've never been snorkelling," You remind him softly.

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I could teach you." He offers. "We'd be able to make it a day trip. We could bring a picnic for the boat and we could sail for a while before getting to the cove." He presses a kiss to your cheek. "What do you think?"

The weight in your chest is shifting now that you're not tangled up in your thoughts. You can breathe a bit easier. "Yeah." You nod. "It could be fun. When were you thinking?"

Finnick hums in thought. "Maybe the day after tomorrow? If you're up for it. We can always do it later, I'm easy." He shrugs.

You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

The market is practically empty when you two arrive. Finnick insists on carrying the wicker basket you brought with you, and he follows your lead as you drift between stalls.

On your way out of the market, he tugs you toward a jewellery stall. Without even giving you time to ask what he's doing, he holds up a necklace, testing it against your complexion, before turning to the seller. "I'll take this one please."

You arch an eyebrow and give his hand a tug. "What're you doing?"

"Buying you a necklace." He replies simply.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"You don't have to."

"I said I want to, not that I have to." He corrects you, pressing a kiss to your joined hands. He pays the vendor for the necklace and secures it in the basket before letting you lead him out of the gazebo.

It doesn't take long to get back home, even with your goods from the market weighing you down. Finnick flicks on the air-con once you are inside, and once he sees you moving to turn the stove on, he secures his arms around your waist and practically manhandles you all the way back to the sofa. "Nope. Not happening."

"What are you--"

"Youre gonna sit there and watch something or read or... I don't know, do whatever you want while I cook dinner." He grins as he lets go and you flop down on the sofa. You open your mouth to complain, but he simply kisses you quiet before pulling away and pecking your head. "I have it covered. Don't worry about it, okay? Just relax. It's fine. Relax."

You sigh, but admit defeat, anyway. "Alright. Just... don't burn the house down."

Finnick arches a brow. "Are you doubting my cooking abilities?"

"Yes."

"Says the one who nearly did burn the house down making toast on my birthday."

"That was one time! And I was doing something nice!"

Finnick laughs and pecks your forehead again before sauntering into the kitchen. He's glad you seem to be feeling a bit better. "I know. But it still happened." He calls over his shoulder.

It doesn't take long for you to follow him into the kitchen; you're a tad bit clingy when you're feeling anxious like this. He doesn't make any remarks on it; he simply taps the countertop beside him in invitation and goes back to stirring a pot of sauce.

You swing your legs back and forth before finally finding your voice. "Finn."

He glances up from the pot. "Yeah, baby?"

You sigh. You've never been very good at naming your feelings, even when you were a kid. It makes you feel stupid. "I'm anxious today." You finally blurt out.

Finnick turns down the heat on the stove to give you his undivided attention. He nods sympathetically. "I know. Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm just letting you know."

He nods. "That's okay. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You've done more than enough," You rush to say.

"That's not what I asked." He retorts gently. "Is there anything you need?"

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Asking for what you needed or wanted was also another thing you weren't very good at, but Finnick doesn't make you feel silly for it, and it feels easier to tell him. "Can I have a hug?"

Finnick wastes no time in reaching for you. His arms fit around you as snugly as possible but it doesn't feel constricting. It just feels safe. He rests his chin atop your head and nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Love you."

"I love you," You reply, melting into him. You can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips when you see the steam bubbling from the pot over his shoulder. "Hey, Finn?"

"Yeah, angel?" He pulls away just enough to smooth your hair out of your eyes.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's awful at cooking."

He frowns and looks over his shoulder when you laugh. "Shit!"

[allisluv]

Would you write any nsfw headcannons for Travis? :)

nsfw travis headcanons! ★ this is super short but feel free to send in more requests! please note that in all of my nsfw yj works, the characters are over the age of 18

★ Despite his tough, no one can touch me, i'm better than everyone attitude, he's definitely the softest lover to ever exist.

★ Has control issues, probably stemming from his childhood, so he does prefer being dominant, however I can see him being more submissive if he really trusts someone.

★ Also prefers giving over recieving for the same control reasons.

★ Such a big praise kink. He loves to know that he's making you feel good. It does things for him, whether he's willing to admit it or not.

★ Isn't big into the rougher side of things. No, he prefers gentle caresses and soft words of reassurance. I do think he'd be into choking, maybe a little bit of breath play, but nothing extreme though.

★ Loves morning sex. He adores the intimacy in the moment; the intertwined limbs and cuddles and lingering kisses.

★ Eats pussy like a man starved. Enough said.

★ Is also so vocal. The whiniest man to ever exist actually.

[allisluv]

imagine finnick and reader having to comfort each other after the capitol made people watch them have sex😢 it would be so hard for them to feel comfortable enough to do it privately

disconnected.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: please note that while this work is not explicit it is very heavy! finn and reader are sold into prostitution together. while everything is consensual in terms of sex, they do not consent to being watched. this is pure angst hurt/comfort. crying, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts, not edited. if there's anything else you think should be added, please let me know!

word count: 0.7k

The silence is deafening, like static in your ears, as the room slowly but surely begins to empty of people.

Finnick hovers on top of you, shielding your naked body from view. Every so often, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, a silent reminder that he’s sorry and that he’s there.

The door thuds closed behind the last Capitol man.

Finnick wraps a loose sheet around his bottom half and pads across the room, quickly sliding the lock into place, preventing any unwanted visitors from returning. His body feels like it’s made of lead as he rests his forehead against the wooden panel of the door and swallows around the rough lump in his throat.

You roll onto your side numbly and watch him from where you’re situated on the bed. Your hair is knotted and your body is slick with sweat. Everything feels like you’ve been thrown off-kilter and that feeling only worsens when you see Finnick’s thin frame rack with muffled sobs.

“Finnick.” Your voice cracks. He doesn’t move. You call out for him again, this time more firmly, but still gently. “Finn. Come here.”

Finnick hesitates, and you know his mind is bombarded with thousands upon thousands of badly intrusive thoughts. Eventually, he listens to you, and he brings himself back to the bed, the sheet still draped around him and tear stains on the apples of his cheeks.

He hovers by the edge of the bed, and you can see the signs of him clearly coming down from the dissosciative high that he so often falls into to protect himself when the two of you are forced into this scenario.

“Sit down with me?” You ask.

He nods once, but it’s disconnected, and you can tell he’s not fully back with you yet.

You’re not either, really.

Finnick’s movements are heavy and uncoordinated as he lies down next to you, flat on his back, as stiff as a board. You roll onto your side to face him but neither of you say anything. The only sound is the two of you breathing unevenly.

“Baby—”

“Don’t,” Finnick cuts you off, voice emotionless and full of dread. “Just don’t. Don’t call me that. Don’t give me your sympathy and act like everythings fine when it’s fucking not. Don’t…” He cuts himself off with a sob that makes your heart twist in your chest.

“You’re right,” You whisper, carefully moving your hand to tread your fingers through his hair in a way that you know keeps him tied to reality. “Its not fine. But its not your fault, either. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“That’s easier said than done.” His voice is harsh, but you refuse to take it personally; you’ve had your own fair share of lashing out after this experience, and Finnick had been nothing but soft and gentle and caring.

It’s about time you return the favour.

His eyes flutter shut as you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t blame you.” You whisper, knowing that he needs to hear the words from your mouth.

“You should.”

“I would never.”

“Why?” Finnick’s voice is quiet. “I’m just as bad as they are. I’m—”

“No.” Your voice is firm, broking no room for argument. “You are nothing like them, baby. Do you hear me? Nothing like them. It is not your fault what Snow makes us do.”

Tears trickle down his cheeks, and you want to kiss them away, to make it all better, but you don’t know how.

“Can I hold you?” You ask gently. You can see the gears in his heads working overtime. You know he feels like he does not deserve it, that he is tainted and bad and cruel, but that couldnt be further from the truth.

He’s Finn.

He’s your Finn.

He’s your bright, funny, kind-hearted, lovable Finnick and all you want to do is soothe him.

Eventually, his need for comfort outweighs his need to punish himself, and he nods.

You waste no time in bundling him up into your arms, and it’s like the floodgates open.

He sobs and sobs and sobs until there are no more tears left in his body.

You hold him and hold him and hold him until he falls asleep.

[allisluv]

ok but like if we’re in an angsty mood tdy (i always am) what about finnick coming back from a long trip to the capitol?

barefoot on the sand.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: finnick's forced prostitution and canon trauma. finnick has bruises (hickeys) and scratches from his "clients", pre-established relationship, not edited, let me know if you'd like me too add anything else!

word count: 1.1k

Finnick has had a long week.

He has spent the last seven days putting on a front and being tugged from one Capitol elite to the next, only to be treated like a toy and then discarded to one side when they milk him dry of all that he can give.

His neck is littered in varying shades of black and blue hickies, while his back is marked with the indentations of sharp finger nails that were raking up and down his skin. His muscles scream and protest with every movement he makes, and he’s relieved for the ice pack that one of the familiar Avoxes hands him when he boards the train back to District Four.

The journey home always seems to pass quickly. Maybe it’s because he dissosciates for half of it, or maybe it’s because he’s half-asleep. Either way, he’s glad when he gets off at the train station and feels the warm summer breeze fan against his face.

Its a relief to be home once again and he slips his feet out of his sandals to walk barefoot along the sand as he takes the shortcut to Victor’s Village. The faint smell of sea salt and the sound of waves lapping against the shore are enough to keep him grounded.

Your shared house comes into view and the building radiates warmth, even from outside. There’s a warm, cosy aura about it, one that he assosciates with both you and home, despite both of those things being one in his eyes.

He leaves his sandals on the balcony and slips through the back door. He makes a mental note to lovingly scold you for leaving it open but that thought is knocked right out of his head upon seeing you in the living room.

Like a cat, you have curled up in a ball on the sofa. A pair of cheap knock-off reading glasses perch on the bridge of your nose as you cradle a book in your hands, eyes narrowed in concentration. His favourite rom-com movie is playing on the television that hangs from the wall, and he knows that you must have gotten his fax about coming home from the Capitol.

As if you can sense his presence, you look up from your book and set it on the coffee table without bothering to mark your page. You offer him a smile and tilt your head, extending the invitation for him to sit with you, but without any pressure or expectations tied to it.

You know that sometimes Finnick will have an aversion to touch after being in the Capitol and you know that other times, he’ll crave your touch as a way to remind himself that he’s home, and he’s safe.

Finnick’s bottom lips trembles, and the floodgates open in what must be a record amount of time. He sinks down onto the couch next to you before crawling into your lap and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You welcome him with open arms, and comb your fingers through his golden curls as he sobs into your skin. You don’t shush him, or try to stop his crying, or tell him to ‘act like a man’; you simply hold him as he cries.

Combing your fingers through his golden curls, you scratch at his scalp in the way that you know makes him relax. Just as expected, he melts into your embrace, and you press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

It takes a while for his breathing to even out, and when it does, you ask, “Are you hurt?” Finnick hesitates, and that’s all the answer you need. “Okay.” You mumble. “Can I see?”

Again, he hesitates, but you press a reassuring kiss to his forehead, and he nods before sitting up. He pulls his shirt over his head and you swallow around the lump in your throat when you see the hickeys and scratches on his golden skin.

You push your fury down and smooth his hair out of his face. “I’m just gonna go get some things to clean you up. Is that okay?”

Finnick nods his head once, and reluctantly untangles his limbs from yours. His eyes flutter shut when you cup his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. You must be gone for a minute at the most, and when you return with the first aid kit, he knows you must have had it out ready and waiting on the kitchen table for his arrival.

You sit on the sofa beside him and gently tend to his wounds, explaining what you’re doing every step of the way so that he doesn’t get overwhelmed, and showering him in words of praise to help him feel safe.

Once the gels have been applied to the bruised skin of his neck and you’ve wiped all of his injuries down with an antiseptic wipe, you close the first aid-kit and help him back into his shirt.

“Thank you,” Finnick croaks out, voice cracked and hoarse from crying. “For everything.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest at his murmur of thanks, and you reach out to run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. He leans into your touch. “Don’t thank me okay? That’s what I’m here for, baby.”

You settle back on the sofa and beckon him into your arms, letting him rest his head in your lap as you go back to smoothing your fingers through his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head vehmently.

You soothe him with a kiss to his forehead. “That’s okay. How about snacks?” Finnick perks up at the mention of food, and you bite back a smile. “I got all your favourites; candyfloss, salted chips, dark chocolate…” You coax.

Finnick looks up at you through his long lashes and brings your knuckles to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the skin there, a silent way of telling you that he loves you. “Popcorn?” You can’t supress your laughter this time around, and you nod. “I suppose you could twist my arm,” he mumbles in to your skin.

You reach around the arm of the sofa to grab the bag of pre-prepared goodies, and Finnick whines at the loss of contact. You shush him quietly. “‘M still here. ‘M not going anywhere, baby. I’m just getting our snacks, alright?” You empty the bag of treats into your laps. “See?”

Finnick grabs a bag of popcorn and tears into it, snapping pieces of dark chocolate and throwing it into the bag, too. He munches on his snacks, occasionally offering you the bag and letting you pick at the food. “I love you, angel.” He says between mouthfuls.

You smile softly and lean in to peck his forehead. “I love you more.”

[allisluv]

this is definitely not inspired by a recent dream of mine

if you had a wet dream about finnick odair. GOD IF YOU HAD ONE ... the first thing you feel when you wake up in the semi-darkness of your room, your eyes squinting at his still sleeping figure, would be SHAME. you just feel miserable because you feel like you're like these capitol's citizens who are unable to see past his divine beauty </3

you go to get a glass of water, and wake up with finnick, half asleep, in the doorway, concern on his face. you don't want to tell him directly what is the cause of your awakening but we all know that he will manage to get the words out of you.

he does not blame you for a moment. "you should see my dreams about you", he says without a care and leaves you speechless. and then ... the dream becomes reality <3

he wears the most smug look after + says something like "i bet it was better than that dream"

— 🫀

dreams.

summary: finnick takes care of you after an... imaginative dream

a/n: hi hi hi! i've never written smut before so constructive criticism is welcome just please don't be mean because i will cry (fr) thank you anon for your request + i hope this lived up to expectations <3

content warnings: established relationship, porn with a little dash of plot, oral (fem!recieving), praise kink, use of the phrase good girl, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), lots of consent and finnick being cheeky as always. oh and not proofread for the time being

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

It takes a while for you to register your surroundings when you shake yourself awake. It's dark in your room and you have to squint in order to make out Finnick's sleeping figure next to you. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths and you're relieved that you didn't wake him.

As the dream runs through your head like an old movie, you squeeze your thighs together to get rid of the ache between your legs. Shame bubbles in your chest and bile hits the back of your throat.

Wasn't this exactly what the people in the Capitol did? Got off to the thought of him kissing his way up their bodies? You bite the inside of your cheek until you can’t focus on anything other than the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth.

You pull the covers back and swing your legs over the side of the bed, padding across the wooden floorboards in your bare feet. Flicking on the light switch in the kitchen, you grab an empty glass before filling it with cold water from the faucet.

A pair of warm hands sneaking their way around your stomach is the first thing that you manage to register in your hazy mind. Finnick presses a kiss against the shell of your ear before asking, "What’re you doing up this early, honey?"

"Couldn't sleep," you murmur, setting the glass back onto the marble countertop. “Did I wake you?”

Finnick presses a kiss to the crown of your head as his fingers trace patterns up and down your arms. “Your side of the bed was cold. Was wondering where you'd gotten to, that's all," he shrugs and turns you around to face him. "You gonna tell me whats going on in that head of yours? Was it a bad dream?"

You slide onto the countertop and Finnick's hands instinctively fall to your hips. "Something like that," you mutter. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," he prompts, gently using his thumb and index finger to tilt your head towards him. Your gaze remains glued to the wall behind him but he angles his head to catch your eye. "I need you to use your words, baby, cause I don't understand."

You shift uncomfortably on the countertop, praying that he'll drop it, (which isn't likely to happen, because Finnick O'dair is the text-book definition of stubborn). "I didn't have a bad dream."

"Then what was it?" Finnick asks, his eyebrows knitting together in a blend of confusion and concern. Warmth creeps across your cheeks. "Oh."

You try to bury your face in your hands but his reflexes are quick and he catches your wrists in between his fingers. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. You should see my dreams about you," he grins proudly. "Why didn't you say something sooner, honey? Are you gonna let me take care of you?"

Goosebumps rise on your skin as your tongue runs over your lips. You nod without making a sound.

Finnick's fingers skim the lace at the bottom of your nightdress. He's teasing. "Gotta hear you use your words, baby." His hand trails higher and higher until he's tracing feather-light touches along the outline of your black underwear. "Come on, use your words for me."

Your heart beats against your ribcage as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. It's hard to think when your thoughts are consumed by him. He pulls your nightgown up to your hips, exposing your damp panties. His thumb toys with the hem. "Please," you whine breathlessly.

"Please what baby?" he peers up at you through his lashes. "You know I'll give you whatever you want, just need to hear you say it."

"Please fuck me."

He gives a satisfied hum and sinks to his knees in front of you. "Good girl. My gorgeous, needy girl. Am I gonna find you soaked under here?" His fingers work the soft material down your thighs. "Can I?"

"Please touch me." Your hips chase forward in search of his hand and he runs his fingers through your folds. Your eyes squeeze shut, hand balling his white shirt into your fist. "Oh my god."

He drops his hand and buries his face in your cunt, tongue easing you open as he tracks his way to your clit. Your hands find purchase in his hair and you tug hard.

"You feel so good," you scratch his scalp with your blunt nails and he moans into your cunt. Finnick reaches between your legs, his fingers feeling between your folds as he sucks on your sensitive clit. Familiar tightness was coiling in your core and, as if he could sense it, Finnick stood up.

You whined at the loss of contact but he swallowed it with a kiss. His warm hands smooth your hair out of your face and back behind your shoulders. He was always so gentle with you.

You threw your head back and he obliged by trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck. He hummed against your skin as you tug at the hem of his t-shirt desperately.

Finnick chuckles as you strip him of the thin cotton. You toss it to the side, not bothering to look where it lands. All you can focus on is how much you want him to fuck you.

Finnick kisses you lazily and pulls down his sweatpants and boxers in one go. You palm his bare cock and he twitches in your hand, hot and heavy. "Are you sure you're ready for me baby? I don't wanna hurt you or anything," he frowns.

You kiss the crown of his forehead and pull your nightgown over your head. The cold air nips at your bare breasts and Finnick's eyes darken at the sight. "I can handle it. Please, need to feel you."

Finnick grips your hips in his gentle hands and lines himself up with your entrance. His tongue slips into your mouth as he pushes into you with such force that the breath is knocked from your lungs. No matter how many times he fucks you, it always takes a while for you to accommodate to his size.

He presses gentle kisses to your nose and your cheeks before finally brushing his lips against yours once more. "You still with me, honey?" He brushes a hand across your forehead, wiping away the strands of hair that had gotten stuck from the sweat. "Being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Stretching me so well."

Your pain soon morphs to pleasure and as your hips cant forward, he thrusts to meet you. "Feel so full, Finnick," your nails drag against his bare back, no doubt leaving marks.

"Yeah?" Finnick smirks, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. The angle drives him deeper inside you, and to make it even more impossible to string together a coherent sentence, he drags his tongue over your sensitive nipples. "Are you getting close, baby? Yeah you are, I can feel you squeezing me."

He kisses you slowly as he pushes his hips to meet yours again. Your mouth leaves his and you kiss along his jawline, moaning into his ear as he fucks you. "Finnick," you whine, clinging to the space between his shoulder blades. It's the only word you can think of. Your thoughts are consumed with him.

"I've got you, honey," he hisses as his hips slam into you. "Come for me. You're beautiful, baby. Come for me, I know you can do it, I'm so close--"

Finnick surges up to capture your mouth in a kiss as your orgasm washes over you like the waves outside your house. Finnick's hips still and you can feel his warm seed pumping into you.

Too exhausted to hold yourself up, you collapse against Finnick, who holds you close as you both come down from your high. Your kisses are sloppy and languid but you feel so warm, so full, that nothing else really matters.

You whine when he pulls out but it's not so bad when he's soothing it better with soft kisses and gentle caresses. He whispers that he loves you and offers to carry you to the bath but not before getting one smart remark in. "Bet I was better than in the dream, huh, honey?"

[allisluv]

ooo congrats on 500 followers! 🎉 anything with subby!finnick (maybe edging?) with soft dom reader if you can, please don’t feel you have to if it isn’t something you feel comfortable writing <3

control.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: smut! d/s dynamics, soft!dom reader, sub!finnick, reader is big on consent and praise, use of the phrase "good boy", teasing, edging, colour system to check in in, mention of safe words but they're not used if that makes sense (reader's just checking in). if there's anything else you think should be added, just let me know!

word count: 1.8k (whoops mb)

Finnick was so used to being the one in control. Growing up, he always had to be in control of how he felt, and that carried on well into his adulthood. It wasn’t just that, though; over the years with his partners, he was nine times out of ten the one calling the shots, even with the women from the Capitol.

Especially with the women from the Capitol, actually.

He became so used to fending for himself that when you came into his life on that faithful day in spring, you threw him for a loop. From the minute he laid eyes on you, he knew he would bend to your every will and do anything that you asked of him.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way. He was used to being the one in control, the one who told other people what to do; but when you told him to tie the clasp on your necklace one day in that tone of voice that indicates it was more of a gentle command than anything else, he had pounced at the chance to please you.

He isnt sure why, either. He just knows it felt so fucking good to relinquish that tiny bit of control, even over doing something as listening to an order, and he knows that he wants to do it again.

When it carried over into the bedroom, into your physical intimacy together, he could have hit the roof with excitement. It felt oddly freeing to just do as he was told. No thinking needed. And it felt ten times better knowing that he was doing it willingly, with someone that he loved, and someone that he trusted enough to look after him.

That was what had got him.

“Let me take care of you.” You had said, voice sickly sweet but genuine. He had worried his bottom lip between his teeth, listening for the deception in your voice, but he came up empty-handed. All he could hear was care.

He had nodded his head, and that night was the first night in a long fucking time that he had felt safe with someone.

Months pass, and the two of you settle into a comfortable routine.

Finnicks body is heavy with exhaustion when he comes home, as it so often is after barking orders to everyone at work and being in control for so long. His heart craves something that only you can give him but he hates to ask for it outright, and you know that.

All it takes is one look at his face for you to realise what it is he needs. Setting your book down on the coffee table, you fix him with a sympathetic look. “Come here, baby.” Your voice is tender, but he doesn’t miss the hint of an order in it.

He slips his shoes off at the door and pads over to you, straddling your waist when you tap your thighs in invitation. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, tugging him closer and he goes willingly, melting into your embrace.

You kiss his forehead. “What do you need, hm? Just tell me and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Finnick nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “You.”

“Me? That’s what you need?” You ask gently.

He nods. “Just you.”

Your hands find hook through the loops in his jeans, holding him close. “Can I take these off?” He nods. “Words, baby.”

He nods once more, but this time he adds, “Take them off.”

“Take them off…”

“Please. Take them off please.”

“Good boy,” You praise, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. You peck his lips as you undo the zip and button holding his jeans up and then you slide them down the length of his thighs, holding on to his hand to keep him steady as he steps out of them, leaving him clad in only his boxers. “Can I take these off too, baby?”

Finnick nods, but you fix him with a look and he’s quick to correct himself. “Yeah. Take them off.” Another firm look. “Please.”

You reward him by hooking your fingers through the waist band of his boxers and tugging them down, inch by tantalizing inch, until they’ve pooled around his ankles. The tip of his hard cock is red and already leaking pre-cum as you switch positions by gently coaxing him to sit down on the spot you previously occupied on the sofa.

With one firm tug, you pull his boxers the rest of the way down and discard them halfway across the room. His chest heaves with heavy, shallow breaths as you rid yourself of your own confines, throwing your shirt and your pants away.

Slipping the straps of your bra down your shoulders and shimmying out of your panties, you cock a hip as you watch him drinking the sight of you in. An eyebrow raises when the slender column of his throat works as he swallows. “Like what you see?” You tease, but there’s a softer edge to your voice, something more vulnerable.

His eyes flicker up to yours as he reaches for your hand, and when you oblige, he says, “You’re so beautfiul.”

Your lips tip upwards into a smirk and you lean in, kissing his cheekes before firmly slotting your lips over his. You swallow his moans, combing your fingers through his golden curls. Your hands instinctively go to palm his cock, but you stop yourself, letting the pad of your thumb smooth out a pattern into the skin of his thighs.

Finnick juts his bottom lip out into a pout. “You’re teasing.” He huffs out a petulant sigh.

Grinning, you shake your head. “I’m not. Maybe you’re just desperate,” You joke, but there’s no malice behind your words. His pout deepens, and you take mercy on him, finally wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. His head tips backwards in pleasure. “This okay, baby?”

Finnick shakes his head no and your hands are off him in seconds. He whines at the loss of contact and shakes his head again, this time more vehmently. “That’s not what I meant. It is okay. I just— I need more.” Another whine gets caught in the back of his throat as he bucks his hips up to meet yours.

You keep him firmly held in place, but you soothe him quietly, letting your hands fall back to his hips. “Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want. I always do. Just talk to me, baby. Just let me know what you need and it’s yours.” You trace the tip of your finger along the side of his face.

Finnick’s eyes flutter shut, long lashes kissing the apples of his cheeks. “You.”

“What do you want? My mouth, my hands…” You prompt gently.

“More.”

“Be specific.” He pouts and you give him a stern look. “No more whining. Use your words.”

Finnick resists the urge to roll his eyes; he knows that you will only draw the teasing out longer if he does.

“Come on. Be a good boy.”

That one phrase nearly has him unravelling at the very seams. He thinks that he would do almost anything you ask him to when you call him that. “Your pussy.” He blurts out. He can feel his face heating up under the intensity of your gaze, and he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

“Nuh-uh,” You coax him back out and cup his cheek in your hand. “No hiding, okay? It’s just me. You’re allowed to ask for what you need. I’m proud of you.” You press a chaste kiss to his forehead and the action is so tender, so full of love, that it almost makes him want to sob right there in your arms. “You want my pussy, hm? That can be arranged. But you’ve gotta be good for me. Think you can do that?” He nods. You hum approvingly. “Good. I know you can. You’re always so so good for me.” You shower him with praise as you coax him into lying back on the sofa. “Just relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

Finnick melts back into the sofa and lets you mould him into the desired position, where you’re straddling his lap and hovering over him, tantalizingly close to where he needs you the most. He’s never been one for begging, but he can’t help it as of right now. “Please?”

You smile softly and lean in to kiss him. Your tongue slips in, dancing with his own, as you finally lower yourself down onto him. He moans into your mouth, and his hands fly to your hips to steady you as yours land on his chest, bracing yourself.

“Move,” He demands, but it sounds more like a plea than anything else.

You arch a brow and give his shoulder a possesive squeeze. “Remind me again who calls the shots here?”

He huffs out a sigh, but it’s more pleasurable than anything, really. “You.”

“Good boy. And if you want something, how do you ask?”

“Nicely.”

“Good, so you do remember. Are you going to ask nicely then?”

Finnick nods, eager to do as he’s told. “Please move.”

You kiss him again, and oblige, starting to rock your hips against his, falling into a steady rhythm. Wanton whines and your name fall from his lips like a prayer as you trail a path of open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat and his collarbone.

It doesn’t take long for Finnick to feel the familiar coil of heat tightening in the pit of his stomach, and he moans. “I’m gonna come.”

“Not yet.” You command. He whines pitifully and you nip at his shoulder, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to let him know that you’re serious. “I said not yet. You can wait.”

“I can’t.” Finnick pouts, and you nearly laugh at how adorable he looks.

“You can. If you couldn’t, you’d be using your safe word, wouldn’t you?” You point out, peppering his face with kisses next. Finnick grumbles, because you do in fact have him there. “Colour?” Your voice is soft as you check-in, hips still rolling against his.

“Green,” Finnick murmurs back. “So fucking green.”

Your lips curve into a smile against his cheek. “Good boy. Now, I want you to hold on for a couple more minutes, okay?” He huffs out a bratty breath. “I know you can do it. You’re a good listener and you’re more than capable of following a simple instruction. Now help me get there so we can come together, alright?” He nods. “Good boy,” You coo, kissing the pout off his lips again. “I’ll let you come, but you need to get me there, too, alright?”

[allisluv]

saved by the bell.

summary: finnick helps reader during a sensory overload (based off a request i can't find in my inbox </3)

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: post-rebellion, implied neurodivergent!reader, sensory overload + overstimulation, mention of finnick's mutt attack and as a result finnicks scars, reader has hair long enough to tie back, reader accidentally snaps at finnick but it isnt intentional and she does apologise and finnick forgives, fluff, mention of noise-cancelling headphones, comfort, teasing, fluff, not edited (what a surprise)

a/n: been a while since i posted on here, life was hectic i'm sorry! this is based off my own experience during a sensory overload, but not all are the same!

To mark the one year anniversary of the war ending and to commemerate the lives lost during the rebellion, you and Finnick send out invites asking all of the surviving victors to visit District Four for a small get-together. Its nothing fancy, just finger food and conversation. A celebration of life, Finnick calls it.

Everyone RSVP’s to let the two of you know that they will be attending, and it doesnt take long for Finnick to start planning activites and dragging you along for weekly trips to the farmer’s market to buy supplies for the party.

On the morning of the party, you realise that it’s going to be rough from the get go. Finnick is up with the sun, as he so usually is, and you wake not long after him. The bed is empty without your husband by your side, and it makes your heart ache with loneliness.

You turn onto your side and wince when a stream of sunlight drifts in through a gap in the curtain. Your head feels like it’s going to explode at the brightness, and you’re quick to bury your face into Finnicks pillow. You breathe in his scent in an effort to ground yourself, but all it does it send your senses into overdrive.

A sad, pitiful whine gets caught in the back of your throat as you roll onto your back, glaring at the specks of paint on the ceiling. “Why today?” You grumble, burying your face in your hands as you will yourself to hold it together, if not for yourself, for Finnick and the others.

It takes a while, but eventually, you gather the courage to stand. The floorboards feel cool beneath your feet, and it is such a stark contrast from the sweat pouring out of your pores that all it does it make you want to rip your skin clean off your body.

Sucking in a deep breath, you shuffle towards your closet and begin rooting through it in search of something light to wear. Finnick and you had went shopping for new outfits specifically for today, but the prospect of wearing that particular fabric right now makes you want to claw your eyes out of their sockets, so you settle on a sundress that you have previously deemed as safe to wear when you’re in the midst of a sensory overload.

Once you’re dressed, you tie your hair back out of your face so it doesn’t stick to the back of your neck. Your skin is clammy and damp, and realistically, you really should have taken a shower, but even thinking about it makes your frame hum with irritation.

You flap your hands in an effort to rid yourself of the nervous energy that has taken refuge in your body. When it does little to soothe your weary mind, you plant your hands on your hips and let out a frustrated huff.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by your husband’s voice calling you from the kitchen. “I’m coming!” You call, smoothing out the creases in your sundress before steeling yourself for today, and slipping out of your bedroom. You’re still in your bare feet when you stomp down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Finnick is balancing on a kitchen chair by the entranceway, a roll of triangular-shaped bunting in one hand and a box of thumb tacks in the other. He arches an eyebrow at your foul mood, and your stomping. “Everything okay, angel?”

You brush him off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I’m fine. What did you need?”

Finnick doesn’t miss the edge to your voice, but he decides not to push it. “Could you hold these thumb tacks and hand them to me when I need them? Or were you busy?” He asks, giving you an out if you need it.

“No, I can help,” You insist, already moving to stand beside him. “Just be careful on that chair. Its decades old.” You warn as you take the thumb tacks. Finnick starts stringing the bunting up along the wall of the archway, and you let out a sigh. “Why do we need bunting, anyway? Dont you think it’s somewhat over the top?”

“Look, I didn’t survive those mutts not to celebrate today.” He teases. “After all those god-damn physio sessions, I deserve bunting if I want bunting.” He pauses. “And Jo’s gonna ask the question you just asked, so you better have my back when she does.”

You roll your eyes fondly and relent. “Alright, alright. If you want bunting, we can have bunting.” You hand him a thumb tack and roll your shoulders back uncomfortably. Chicken curry is stewing in the slow-cooker, and it’s making the kitchen stuffy with heat.

Finnick’s always been observant, and he catches the small movement of your shoulders almost instantly. “Are you sure you’re okay, angel?”

“Mhm.” You shrug non-comitedly and pass him one more thumb tack.

He doesn’t seem convinced, and the second the bunting is secured, he hops off the chair and has a hand on your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Come on, angel. Talk to me.”

As if on cue, the doorbell goes and you let out a relieved sigh— you would have likely cracked and admitted the truth if he kept pushing.

Saved by the bell.

“I’ll get it,” You say, pecking his cheek and moving quickly to answer the front door with Finnick hot on your heels.

The door swings open and Johanna struts inside, shooting a smug look over her shoulder at Annie and Katniss. “See? Told you it would be open.” She brushes past both of you into the kitchen. “Oo. Something smells nice.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, and Peeta nudges her in the ribcage, prompting her to say hello. Haymitch, Annie and Enobraia all exchange greetings with the two of you as you usher them inside.

“You know, you should really keep that door locked,” Beetee says as he envelopes you in his arms. “Did you know there are approximately three thousand burgarlies a day? Thats two every minute. And I bet you more than half of them are due to people leaving their doors unlocked.” He explains nonchalantly as he follows the others into the kitchen.

You rub the back of your neck anxiously, feeling your skin crawl at all of the physical contact you had just endured in the last thirty seconds.

Finnicks eyes land on you and he inches closer to you, but doesn’t touch. “What’s going on with you, angel?” He asks gently. You open your mouth to brush him off but he cuts you off. “And don’t feed me another lie about you being fine. I’m able to read you like an open book. Just tell me whats going on in that pretty little head of yours, okay?”

You grit your teeth in an effort to stay calm. You’re not angry at him, you’re just overwhelmed. Its all too much; the noise from the kitchen, the lights, the heat, Johanna calling out into the hallway about the bunting, the smells of the different food. Which is why you don’t mean to snap, but you do. “Just get off my back, alright? I said I was fine.” You snap, brushing past him into the eye of the storm— the kitchen.

Finnick blinks, momentarily stunned by your outburst, until it dawns on him and he follows after you. He pulls you to one side from where you’re pretending to listen to Enobaria. “Excuse me. We need to talk.”

“What—”

“Now.” Finnick says firmly, but not unkindly, as he steers you by the elbow back into your shared bedroom. He closes the door once you’re both inside, and leads you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on his knees, and asks, “Are you having a sensory overload?” You avert your gaze and that’s all the answer he needs. “Do you need space or do you want me to hold you?”

Your bottom lip trembles and you clamp your teeth into it to stop it from wobbling. “Can you hold me?”

Thats all the confirmation your husband needs. He sits cross legged on the floor and tugs you into his lap. “Loosely or tightly?” He murmurs into your hairline.

“Tightly.” You answer. “Please.”

Finnick tightens his hold on you and presses a kiss to your forehead as your breathing starts to even out and you begin to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble.

“For what?” Finnick asks, kissing your temple once more.

“For snapping at you. It wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Finnick agrees. “But you were overwhelmed, and you were stressed. I forgive you. No hard feelings, alright?”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Do you want to come back outside? We can get you your noise cancelling headphones, that way it might be easier to deal with the noise. How does that sound, hm?”

You hesitate. “Johanna’ll make fun of me.”

“Johanna makes fun of everyone,” Finnick points out.

“Fair point, well made.”

“But if she says anything, I’ll fight her.” He cradles your face in his scarred hands and giving your nose a playful tap.

“Will you win, though?” You tease.

“You know it, angel.”

[allisluv]

Oral fixation for Finnick please

ask nicely.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings: nsfw. pre-established relationship, pet names, use of the phrase good girl, praise, oral (m!recieving), banter, readers got an oral fixation.

authors note: i have a mix of nsfw and sfw headcanons for this scenario here too! this is a big step outside of my comfort zone because i've never written for oral before (at least not for a man) so please bare with me while i figure the logistics of it all out lol!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

word count: 0.7k

Finnick's fingers trace a lazy pattern over the bare skin of your arms as the television screen basks the otherwise dark room in a soft glow. 

His free hand is holding yours, and he can't help but frown when you untangle your fingers from his. He looks down at you as you absentmindedly stuff your fingers in your mouth and suck them. 

"Don't do that, angel. You'll catch germs and then you'll get sick." He chastises gently, smoothing a hand through your strands of hair. You pretend not to hear him, and he rolls his eyes fondly before carefully prying your fingers out of your mouth. You whine, and he stifles a laugh. "Don't pout at me, baby. You know I'm right."

You huff out a sigh and lean up on your elbows, looking up at him through your lashes. "You're so mean sometimes." 

Finnick arches a disbelieving brow. "Is that so?" You nod defiantly and he hums. "I'm sorry for not wanting you to get sick, angel. But you and I both know that you're a pain in my ass when you're sick."

You thwack him in the arm playfully. "Am not."

"Are too." 

You grumble a colorful string of curse words under your breath and lie back down, resting your head on his lap-- until an idea strikes you and a smile graces your lips. 

"Baby?" Your voice is sickly sweet. 

Finnick already knows the next question that's going to come out of your mouth, but he humours you, anyway. "Mhm, yes, angel?" 

"If I can't suck on my fingers, will you let me suck you off?" 

He chuckles at your bluntness, and decides he's going to make you work for it. "Hm. I'm not so sure, angel." You sit up so fast that he's sure you give yourself whiplash in the process, and he has to bite back a smirk. "Well, considering I'm so mean, I don't know if I should let you." You pout, and he relents a little. "But maybe if you ask nicely, I'll let you. You think you can do that? Think you can ask nicely for me?" 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He can be such a teasing prick sometimes! "Please will you let me suck you off, Finn?" You sit on the back of your heels and bat your lashes at him. "Please?"

Finnick grins. "Hm. Let me think about it." You let out a pitiful whine and he laughs. "Alright, alright. Go on then." 

He sits back and relaxes into the sofa, watching as you sink to your knees in front of him and make quick work of undoing his belt. Before you can go any further, he reaches to the side and grabs a pillow, coaxing you to stand up so you won't get carpet burn on your knees. 

Once his belt is cast aside and the pillow is positioned on the floor, you sit back and wrestle his sweatpants down over his hips until they pool around his ankles. You make quick work of his underpants next, and then your face is eye-level with the red, leaking tip of his cock. 

Your mouth runs dry like sandpaper, and you instinctively wet your lips. Finnick palms his cock, before nodding, giving you the go-ahead, and slipping his cock into your mouth. 

You take him slowly, inch by inch, until your nose it buried in the tamed tuft of hair at the base of his cock. His fingers instinctively reach for your hair, not pulling but just holding. You swallow around him and moan, and his head falls backwards in ecstasty. 

"God, you're so good for me," Finnick moans, hips thrusting into your mouth the tiniest bit. You hum around his cock, and he groans, tugging your hair before soothing your scalp with a smooth of his hand. "Such a good girl. Taking me so well." 

Finnick used to be an expert at controlling himself-- he had to be,-- but somehow, you have him coming undone in a matter of minutes. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat and you swallow as he groans, still keeping a tight grip on your hair. 

His head is still reeling as you stand up and straddle his hips before connecting your lips with his. He can feel the slick in your panties through the fabric of your shorts, and he moans into your mouth. 

"Was it okay?" You mumble into his mouth, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Finnick nods his head earnestly and cradles your face in his hands. "Better than okay. You did so good, baby. Now, how do you say I repay the favour?"

[allisluv]

i literally need some heavy angst like injected into my veins rn

could you make a finnick x reader fic where she was unable to be rescued when the arena broke and later he sees her on tv like how katniss saw peeta? no worries if you can’t <:-)

lots of love!!

god.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!victor reader

content warnings: existential crisis, pre-established relationship, katniss and finnick friendship, reader has been taken by the capitol, implied torture, finnick's mental health issues.

word count: 0.6k

author's note: there will (eventually) be a part two that follows on from another request :)

Finnick has never had strong opinions in whether or not a God exists. He doesn't know if he believes that when you die, you go to this good, beautiful place called heaven. He doesn't know if he believes that you don't, either.

What he does know is that he doesn't think it's fair to judge if people will spend their afterlife condemned to this so-called hell based solely on their mistakes.

All of these thoughts have never really bothered him. He didn't find it particularly interesting or necessary to spend his free time having an existential crisis.

But ever since The Quarter Quell ended three weeks ago and he has been confined to this dimly lit hospital room, he can not stop himself from wondering if the outcome would have been different if maybe he had believed in God.

Maybe if he had prayed more, the rebels would have gotten to you in time.

Maybe if he had went to church, he wouldn't be sitting here on his own, without you.

And maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't done so many awful things, this wouldn't be God's way of taking out their anger on the two of you.

Ever since The Capitol took you, Finnick has not had a solid grasp on how much time passes. He isn't entirely sure how long he sits in that hospital bed, wallowing in his thoughts. He only knows that Katniss is the one to pull him from his thoughts.

Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her eyes are tired, lacking the usual fire that gave her her name. "Are you coming for dinner?"

Finnick gives a silent shake of his head.

Katniss rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, roughly yanking him out of bed and onto unsteady feet. "I wasn't really asking." She gestures to a pair of slippers on the floor. "Put them on. If I have to sit through one more of Gale's rants about Peeta, Im going to put a bullet through my head."

Finnick's lips twitch ever so slightly. He knows that the medical staff would put her back on watch if they caught her saying that, but he's glad that she isn't walking around on eggshells around him, scared to put a foot out of line and send him into hysterics again.

Katniss gives him a poke with her foot. "Go on. Put them on already. I'm hungry."

With a heavy sigh, Finnick pushes his feet into the slippers and pulls on another robe to keep himself warm. He's just glad he doesn't have to wear District Thirteen's standard uniform; he supposes that being in the hospital wing does have it's perks from time to time.

Katniss practically drags him to the dining hall and stands by his side as they queue up for dinner. She doesn't try making small talk, and he offers her a grateful smile as they turn to find a seat.

Finnick's sea-green eyes scan the dining hall, and eventually flicker to the television screens that are slowly coming to life. His brows furrow and the breath is punched out of his lungs when he sees that it is a Capitol issued broadcast.

One that has you front and centre.

His tray falls to the floor with a loud clatter and he ends up moving on auto-pilot towards the nearest television screen. People scramble out of his way as if he's dangerous, and while that would normally hurt his feelings, he's too caught up watching your face.

"You're alive," Finnick mumbles under his breath.

Your face is hollow, with cheeks that have sunk in and your eyes are bloodshot and cold as you stare down Caesar Flickerman. He can't help but feel a spark of pride in his chest as Caesar tries to interview you, and you point-blank refuse to acknowledge his presence.

That's his girl.

The pride slowly fizzles out when he sees you being dragged out of the frame by two Peacekeepers, and it's quickly replaced with a fear that makes his blood run cold.

And then your screaming starts.

[allisluv]

finnick and sleepy cuddles

blinds.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: established relationship, pet names. nothing else really! this is just pure fluff <3

word count: 0.8k

When you and Finnick had first moved into this house together, he had insisted until he was blue in the face that this specific brand of blinds were the best you could get in District Four. Now, the sunlight streams in through the cheap, filmsy material, and casts shadows around the room.

Finnick has always been a light sleeper, even as a child, and he shifts on to his side, drawing you impossibly closer as he does so.

Even in your half-asleep state, you respond, curling into his side and letting out a whine into his chest. He smiles to himself and presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your hairline.

He doesn’t try to coax you awake just yet; if he had to guess, he’d say it’s only somewhere around the seven o’clock mark and he knows that you like to have a lie in on the weekend, especially after working from nine to five Monday through to Friday.

He’s not complaining— he’s perfectly content to lie with you and let you wake up at your own pace.

Besides, this way he can admire how beautiful you look as your chest rises and falls with steady, slow breaths, and your lashes kiss your high cheekbones.

A small smile graces his lips as you bury your face in closer to his bare chest, trying to hide from the sunshine that threatens to pull you from your slumber. You breathe in his cologne and the sea salt that still clings to his tanned skin from the dip you two took in the ocean late last night and let out a content hum.

Finnick can’t help the rumble in his chest as he laughs at that. You shush him insistently, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from disturbing your peace any more than he already has. He may be many things, but at least he can take a hint.

You sling your arm around his stomach and absentmindedly tug him closer to you, craving the warmth and safety that he provides.

He obliges quickly and molds to your every will until you’re content with the position you’ve crafted; one that closely resembles a koala clinging to an oak tree.

His lips graze your forehead once more and you blink your eyes open, just enough to squint at him through the brightness. “Hi,” you mumble, still half-asleep.

“Hi,” Finnick whispers back, angling his head so that he can see you properly.

Without moving from your comfortable position, you coax his head down to yours, and meet his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. He hums into your mouth and you respond by sleepily combing the pads of your fingers through his golden curls.

You break the kiss after a few seconds and rest the side of your cheek against his bare chest while he traces patterns up and down the length of your back. His touch is feather-light and gentle and you giggle into his chest.

“What?” Finnick asks with an amused smile. “Why’re you laughing?”

“It tickles,” You mumble back, intertwining your legs with his under the sheets.

His fingers still their movements. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

“No,” You say, shaking your head, which proves to be hard when your face is smushed up against his chest. “No. I like it.”

Finnick slowly picks up his pace again, but keeps his movements lazy and languid.

Moments pass, and the only sound that can be heard are the blinds fluttering in the breeze and the waves lapping against the shore outside.

“What time is it?” You ask eventually, moving one of your hands away from him to wipe the remaining evidence of sleep from your eyes.

“Early,” Finnick answers. “I’d say it’s around half past seven by now.”

You hum, shifting onto your stomach so that you can look him in the eye. You’re practically lying on top of him now, and your chin rests on his chest. “You’re so pretty,” you mumble.

He laughs, but you can see the rosy color dusting along his cheekbones. “I think I’m meant to be saying that to you, angel.”

“Then say it,” you prompt.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I know.” You grin.

Finnick scoffs, but there’s only amusement behind it. “You’re so stubborn. Always have to get your own way.” He brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the skin there.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” You muse. “I specifically remember telling you that those blinds were going to let in too much sunlight, and here we are.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright, you were right, and I was wrong.”

“I like it when you say that.”

“Don’t get used to it, angel. Don’t get used to it."

[allisluv]

Could you write about reader x Finnick where they both met from being victors and were both sold by the Capitol and reader is having nightmares about it so he comforts her

bluffs.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!victor!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, reader is sold into prostitution, brief mentions of dissociation, shame, brief mention of burning hot showers, nightmares, anxiety attacks. kind of a backstory before we get into the actual nightmare. kind of ptsd. this one is very angsty y'all. if there's anything else you think should be added please let me know!

word count: 0.8k

Once that final canon went off and you were announced as the winner of the Hunger Games, you thought it was finally over— until President Snow called you into his office the next morning and gave you the ultimatum that he had given many tributes before you; be sold into sex-work, or watch everyone you loved be led like animals to the slaughter.

You may have been many things, but you were not stupid.

You prided yourself on being able to tell when someone was bluffing.

And President Snow was as serious as they came.

Your first client was the worst; the pain when you shifted the wrong way, the overwhelming feeling of shame, the ache in your tired bones from being propped in the one position for too long. You had spent three hours in the shower that night in an effort to get the feeling of their hands off your body.

It didn’t work.

It never did— a lesson your red raw skin had had to learn the hard way.

Still, by the time your sixth ‘session’ rolled around, you had found a way to distance yourself from it. A way to almost pull yourself out of your body until it was all over.

Was it the healthiest coping mechanism? Absoloutely not. But it worked. And that was all you had the mental capacity to care about in that moment of time.

Finnick, your boyfriend, found out around client number ten, when you came home with hickeys so large that even your highest turtleneck struggled to conceal them.

His first thought, as selfish as it sounded, was that you were cheating on him. But then you winced when he touched your shoulder, both in pain and in fear, and it clicked into place for him.

You didn’t say anything.

He didn’t ask.

He simply lead you to the bathroom, assisted you in stripping out of your clothes, and ran you a bath. He assessed the damage to your body before helping you into the tub and holding your hand as you sank back into the soapy water. You sobbed and he climbed into the bathtub, still clad in his vest top and his boxers.

He held you as he cried and when you had no more tears left, he wrapped you in a warm, soft towel and tenderly dried you off. He applied the best creams to the bruises, hickeys and scrapes on your body, before coaxing you to lie down hso he could spoon you from behind.

Neither of you talk for a while. He simply holds you as you stare ahead, a distant look in your eyes that he knows far too well. Eventually, you drift off as he runs his fingers through your locks of hair.

You don’t know how long you sleep for, but you eventually wake with a scream lodged in the back of your throat and tears streaming freely down your face. You sit up, holding your chest with one hand and clutching onto Finnick’s vest top with your other.

Your skin is slick with a sheen of sweat as Finnick looks at you with an understanding crease in his brows. Your eyes dart around, wide and doe-like as you attempt to take in as much of your surroundings as possible.

“It’s just me, angel,” Finnick reassures. “It’s just me. You’re not there, okay? It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.” He smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “You’re okay,” he repeats, voice soothing and sugary sweet. “Do you know who I am?”

You nod and he coaxes you into answering with a small smile. “Finn.” You answer, but your voice sounds foreign and cracked, even to your own ears.

“Good. That’s good, angel. Do you know where you are?”

You chance a look around the room just to make sure you’re right. “Home,” you croak out.

Finnick smiles gently. “Good job. You’re doing so well. Why don’t you lie back down for a minute, angel?” He suggests.

You’re hesitant. Bad things tend to happen when you lie down. “I’m not sleepy.”

“I know, angel. I know you’re not sleepy anymore. You don’t have to be. We can just lie here and cuddle for a while until you come back to me fully, okay? Are you comfortable with that, or do you not want to be touched?”

You hesitate. The truth is, you don’t know, but you decide to give it a shot, anyway. What’s the harm in trying? “Can we cuddle?”

Finnick nods, and gentle pulls you closer so that your head is resting above his chest, where you can hear the steady thump, thump, thump, of his heart beating. He makes sure to keep his grip loose enough so that it doesn’t feel constricting and you can pull away if you need to. He waits for a minute or two before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?” You shake your head quickly and he can feel your chest starting to heave with shallow breaths again. Hes quick to soothe you with soft caresses and gentle words. “That’s okay, angel. We don’t have to. We can just lie here, alright? It’s okay. I’m right here.” He presses his lips to your forehead in a feather-light kiss. “I’m right here.”

[allisluv]

blurb idea!! your children (two girls one boy) plan a dinner date for you and finnick! they have a table set up on the porch and a whole menu (5 and 7 year old’s handwriting) of gourmet meals (grilled cheese and tomato soup) for the both of you. they dress up in their nicest clothes while they play chefs and waiter. i can imagine desert just being two scoops of ice cream and a chocolate chip cookie 😭. but nonetheless, the children receive all of the earned extra cuddles and kisses before bed for their effort🤗.

grilled cheese and tomato soup.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship (duh), finnick and reader have three children (kai, cordelia and marina), set post war, not edited, minor angst at the beginning but it's only for like three paragraphs i promise, other than that, it's just pure fluff <3

word count: 1.4k

Summers are always warm in District Four, and beads of sweat roll down the back of your neck as you sit at your vanity table and slowly but surely add the finishing details to your latest project for work. The window is cracked open to let a breeze in, but even that in itself is warm.

Finnick is folding laundry and putting it away into the wardrobe. As the two of you work away in silence, you can hear the occasional giggle or squeal from your three children, reminding you that they’re fine in the other room.

You’re the first to notice that their laughter has seemed to fizzle out, and dread fills your veins as you pluck the pen from between your teeth and set it down on the table. “Finnick.”

He must take note of the panic in your voice, because he immediately stops what he’s doing. “Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowed as he maneuvers around the king sized bed and stops at your side. He tilts your head in his direction and coaxes you into looking at him when he tips your chin upwards. “Talk to me.” His voice is steady and even, and it helps ground you.

“I can’t hear them.” You choke out, pressing a hand over your heart. Every single instinct in your body tells you to move, but your feet are rooted to the floor. “The kids. I can’t hear them anymore. I can’t hear them laughing.” You gesture to the bedroom door that leads into the other rooms.

Finnick strains to listen, and he realises that he can’t hear them, either. Still, he remains calm; he knows that freaking out will not prove to be any good for either one of you. “It’s okay. That’s more of a mischevious silence that anything.” He teases, mentally reminding himself that everything is alright. Coin and Snow are both dead. There are no more games. They’re safe now. “Come on. Lets go see what those three are up to.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and grip his hand. Finnick squeezes once then twice, a silent reassurance that he is there with you.

When you don’t move an inch, he puts a steady hand on your lower back and steers you out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. The sound of childish whispering meets both of your ears and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in the first place.

Finnick offers you a small smile as he slowly feels the dread being pulled out of his body. “There. See?” He presses his lips to your forehead. “It’s all okay. I mean, they might burn the house down if we don’t go see what they’re up to, but they’re okay.”

You laugh and lean into his touch as he cups your cheek in his hand. He presses another lingering kiss to your forehead before using his hip to push open the kitchen door and stepping inside.

“Daddy!” Your youngest, Cordelia, screams, and abandons whatever she was doing in favour of running through the length of the kitchen towards her father.

Finnick lets go of your hand to catch Cordelia when she throws herself at him. Hoisting her onto her hip, he boops her on the nose, and grins when she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “What have you three been up to, hm?” Cordelia buries her face in the crook of his neck instead of answering, and he lets out a hum. “Something mischevious then, I’m assuming.”

You shake your head fondly and peek your head around the corner, where the twins, Marina and Kai, are wearing their best clothes and arguing over the George Forman maker.

“I should do it!” Marina protests, cocking her hip out.

“I’m older!” Kai retorts with just as much overexaggeration.

“By, like, three minutes! And you’ve never used the grilled cheese maker before.”

“Then show me!”

“You’re seven.”

“So are you.”

You laugh from where you’re standing and their little heads whip around so fast that you wonder if they gave themselves whiplash. “Technically speaking, neither of you should be using that. It’s too dangerous. And get off that chair before you break a bone, please, Mari.”

Marina does as she was told and uses her brothers shoulder to steady herself as she clambers back down with a huff. She stirs a pot with something inside of it, while Kai tries his best to distract you with his award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

Kai tugs on the bottom of your sweatpants. “Mommy.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Come with me.” He demands. You raise a brow. “Please.” He adds, and you relent, letting him take you by the hand and lead you out of the kitchen. He collects Cordelia and his dad on the way to the back door, and then he pushes down on the handle and opens it, pushing both Finnick and you out onto the patio.

Golden fairy lights have been poorly strung up around the wooden bannisters that allow you a bit of privacy and a linen tablecloth has been draped across the patio table. Two chairs are perched on either side of the table, instead of the usual five, and an unlit candle is positioned in the middle.

Cordelia’s chewing on her fingers, but takes them out of her mouth long enough to say, “Ta-da!”

You look around incredously, trying to take in the transformation of your back patio. “What’s all this for, hm?” You ask as Kai pushes you to sit in one of the chairs and then moves to do the same with his father. Finnick laughs but goes willingly, settling in the seat opposite you.

Kai stands up straight before shooting his little sister a pointed look and gesturing for her to stand up and get off of their father’s lap. Cordelia pouts but does as asked, sulking next to Kai. “We have made you dinner.” He announces.

Finnick arches an eyebrow and glances at you from across the table. You shrug, instructing him to go along with it. “Is that so?” Kai nods earnestly. Finnick leans forward in his chair, rests his chin in the palm of his hand, and indulges his son. “So, waiter, what’s on the menu tonight?”

Kai pulls a crumpled pad of paper out of his pocket and you stifle a laugh into your hand. Kai looks at you, not impressed in the slightest. “It is not funny, Mommy.” You school your expression and nod to let him know that he has your full attention. Finnick snickers. “We have tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

You gasp dramatically. “No dessert?”

Kai rolls his eyes, ever the moody one. “That’s a surprise, Mommy.” He says as if it was obvious.

“Oh, yes, silly me.”

Kai pretends to look at his non-existent watch. “I got to go.” He takes Cordelia’s hand and leaves without another word.

You and Finnick break into hysterics the second your children are out of earshot and you reach for his hand across the table. He brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses your wedding band. “Well, at least we can’t say they never did anything for us.” He muses.

You laugh. “No, I suppose we can’t.”

The both of you sit in a comfortable, loving silence until Kai, Cordelia and Marina come out with a bowl of tomato soup and a bread roll for each of you. Cordelia sneaks back onto her dad’s lap, robs his bread roll, and munches away on it happily.

Kai pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters under his breath about how, “Its impossible to find the staff these days,” before marching back into the kitchen.

“I swear, that kid is an old man reincarnated,” You giggle.

Finnick hums his agreement and blows on a spoonful of soup to feed Cordelia.

As promised, the next course is a grilled cheese sandwich that is practically as hard as a rock and disintegrating in your hands. Nevertheless, both you and Finnick reassure Marina that you prefer it that way.

Cordelia spills the secret on dessert, but the two of you promise not to tell Kai and Marina that you know. Both of you put on your best surprised faces when two scoops of vanilla ice-cream and two chocolate chip cookies are served, and the kids are none the wiser.

Finnick gives the three of them a well-deserved massive slice of chocolate cake and a mug of hot cocoa each for their effort. You and Finnick take them to the beach to burn off some energy, and when you come home, they crash out, but not before getting the cuddles and forehead kisses that they earnt.

[allisluv]

finnick odair and you having a little fun (wink wink) on mother’s day after the kids are tucked in?

mothers day.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: nsfw. set post rebellion but its not specified. finnick and reader have a daughter. reader is a bit bratty ngl. pet names (angel and baby). references to reader as "mine" and a "good girl". oral sex (f!recieving). unprotected p in iv -- please wrap it before you tap it. begging. finnick is a menace but we love him. he is also big on consent. flirting and teasing. not proofread we die like heroes or whatever. if theres anything else pls lmk!

word count: 2.6k

a/n: okay so i never intended this to be this long but i got really carried away with it lmao! happy new year everyone! here's to lots more fics this coming year! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

When your husband told you he would be going all out on Mothers Day, you hadn’t believed him. Then again, more fool you, because if there was one thing you should have known about Finnick O’Dair in all the years you had known him, it was that he always followed through on his promises.

You’re woken up to your toddler, Cordelia, jumping on the bed. You can faintly make out Finnick’s half- assed attempt at scolding her— hes not doing a very good job at being stern. Despite the fact that you are in sleep’s greedy clutches, you still know that he has a soft spot for his daughter, and he rarely ever gives out to her. 

Youre treated to breakfast in bed that morning, with all your favourite foods piled high on a plate, and a selection of drinks on the bedside table. You almost laugh at how sweet the gesture is. 

Then comes the onslaught of presents. Finnick waits (impatiently) as Cordelia runs to her room to get the gift bag. He takes advantage of that time, though, by setting the tray on the floor and peppering your face with kisses. “I love you.” 

You chuckle, squirming under his touch as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Well, I love you more.”

Finnick arches an amused brow and pulls away just enough so he can look at you. “Is that so?” He grins and two dimples carve their way into the skin above his mouth.

You wind your arms around his neck, which doesn’t take much effort on your side, considering you have easy access to him with the way he’s hovering over you on the bed. “Mhm. It’s a scientific fact.”

“A fact, you say.” 

“A scientific one,” You correct him. 

Finnick hums non-committedly. “Ah. Silly me.” He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. “And where exactly, pray tell, would one find evidence of this scientific fact?”

You mull his words over in your mind for a minute before shrugging. “Hm. Good question.”

“One that you can’t answer.” He points out. 

“Hey, you can’t correct me on Mother’s Day!” You argue, but there’s no real bite behind your tone. 

Finnick rolls his eyes fondly and is about to open his mouth and spew out a smart remark when the sound of tiny feet slapping against the hard-wood floors echoes through the hallway. He chuckles to himself and presses one more kiss to the skin that your night-dress leaves exposed before rolling off of you and settling beside you on the bed. 

Cordelia comes bouncing into the bedroom, two gift bags clutched in hand. She settles inbetween both of you and starts rifling through the first bag. 

Cordelia gives you a home-made card and a picture frame with a photo of the three of you in it. Finnick gifts you a bunch of your favourite flowers, a dainty silver locket and a couple of shells that he collected from the beach. 

As your daughter tries to find an appropriate place to display her photo frame, Finnick leans in close to you. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “You’ll get your other present when the little one’s in bed.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You quirk a brow in amusement. “Ah. I like the sound of that.”

Finnick chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, I knew you would.” His lips skim your jawline as he places a feather-light kiss to the skin there. “Come on. I’ve got a dinner to prepare and I can’t do it without my favourite girl with me.”

“And mommy!” Cordelia pipes up. 

Finnick snickers. “I was talking about mommy, you silly goose.” Cordelia scoffs— for a three-year-old, she has a hell of a lot of sass. (Finnick says she gets it from you but you’ll agree to disagree on that one). “Come on then. You can help with dinner while we let mommy put her feet up.”

Cordelia perks up at the prospect of helping. “We’re making lasagna!” She announces. 

Finnick groans good-naturedly. “And there goes the surprise.”

       ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of pampering and fussing. Cordelia has decided to take a leaf out of her fathers book for the day and is giving you the princess treatment. 

As it grows dark outside and the movie on the tv in your bedroom starts to roll to an end, Cordelia starts to drift off in between you and Finnick. He decides that it’s time for bed. “Stay there,” he murmurs as he lifts her into his arms. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” You tease. 

Finnick gives you a smile as he cradles Cordelia’s body in his calloused palms and disappears into her bedroom. 

In a matter of minutes, he’s back in the privacy of your own bedroom and as soon as the door is closed behind him, he makes a beeline for you. He crawls up the length of the bed and hovers over you, doing nothing but staring. “Well?” You roll your eyes impatiently. 

“Well what, angel?”

“Well, are you gonna put your mouth to good use or you gonna keep staring all night long?”

Finnick chuckles under his breath and fondly shakes his head. “So bossy.” He teases, but presses a kiss to the skin of your jaw. “So impatient, hm?” He catches your ear lobe between his teeth. “So needy.” He moves to suck a hickey into your neck. “So mine.” He slots his lips over your own.

You groan into his mouth and he eagerly swallows it back. Already, you can feel the slick in between your legs, and its honestly pathetic how wet you are from the simplest of touches. But Finnick hums into your mouth and all of a sudden, you can’t find it in yourself to focus on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. 

His touch is tentative, almost feather-light. His deft fingers ghost down the skin of your waist, tracing a pattern into the places that he knows will make you squirm, before finally settling on your hips. 

He nibbles on your bottom lip softly. You whine and he smiles into the kiss— he’s always had a thing for hearing you and it shows. His fingers trail lower and lower, but it’s far too slow for your liking. You huff out a sigh but wait it out; you know Finnick and you know that if you start demanding him to go quicker, he will only be more inclined to tease you. 

Finnick can sense your patience and he rewards you by kissing you softly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and slips his tongue into your mouth. 

After what feels like a lifetime, but can realistically only be a few seconds at the most, he bunches the fabric of your nightdress up around your hips and moves down your body, pressing kisses as he goes. 

His eyes are blown wide with lust when he inches lower down the bed, and finally gets to be eye-level with your panties. “So pretty,” he praises, nipping at the soft flesh of your thigh. You moan and you feel him smile against your skin. “Can I take these off? I want to see all of you, angel.” 

You nod but Finnick only clicks his tongue and tries to pull away from you. Before he can get far, you’re guiding him back towards your core by his hair. “I– yeah. Take them off.” 

Your voice is desperate and wrecked, even to your own ears, but you’re too on edge to care. 

Finnick grins and nips his way up your thigh again. He grabs the soft fabric between his teeth and hooks his fingers through the waistband, tantalizingly and slowly yanking your underwear down your legs. He waits until theyre at your ankles before pulling them all the way off and discarding them somewhere else in the room. He hums. “That’s better.” 

He kisses his way back up your leg, stops at your core, and drinks you in. You whine and he raises a brow. “Got something to say, angel?”

“Finnick,” You growl. 

“Yes?” He smiles smugly. 

“Stop staring already.”

“What do you want me to do instead?” “Touch me.”

“Touch me…” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Please. Touch me please.” 

Finnick smiles. “Good girl.” Without warning, he licks a stripe up your core. You gasp, hips bucking forward, and his hands fly out to keep you in place. He traces tight circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, before suctioning his mouth around it and sucking. 

Wanton moans spill from your lips, and he picks up his pace. Finnick’s done this many a time, and every time feels better than the last. Some would even say he knows your body better than you know yourself, and to that, you couldnt disagree. 

He knows exactly what to do to have you weak in the knees and, in what must be record time, your thighs have clamped around his head and you’re cumming from his mouth alone, his name falling like a prayer from your lips. 

He works you through your orgasm, and when you come down from your high, he presses a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. The whine that slips out of your mouth is high-pitched and he can’t help but smile as he crawls back up your body and kisses you. 

He sits up, straddling your waist as he looks at you. You tug at his shirt, eyes still glazed over from the pleasure of your orgasm. “Off.”

Finnick chuckles. “Giving demands now, are we?”

You huff and tug at the hem of his shirt once more. “Need to feel you. Please.” You give him your best puppy-dog eyes and he laughs, but obliges, pulling his shirt over his head. Your hands find home on the defined, hard ridges of his abs. “And you can lose the pants while you’re at it, too.”

Finnick lets out a huff of amusement but rolls off of you and stands. In one swift motion, he pulls off his sweatpants and discards them with your underwear, before hovering back over you. Your hand palms his hard cock through his boxers and he groans, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. “Careful, angel. Keep going like that and I’ll come in my pants like a teenager before things have even had a chance to get started.” 

You move your hand, but buck your hips into his instead. He groans again and nips your neck in way of warning. You ignore him and roll your hips once more. “Let me take care of you, too,” You whisper.

“Jesus Christ, you’ll be the death of me.” Finnick murmurs into your neck before kissing you again. 

“Can I suck you off?” 

Finnick shakes his head fondly. “Another day, baby. Today is about you, and only you.”

Your heart melts, but you cant resist getting one last jab in there. “Hm. Bold of you to assume there’ll be another opportunity.”

Finnick laughs and nips your neck again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. “Oi. Watch it.” 

“Or what?” You challenge.  

“Sorry, did you want me to fuck you tonight? Cause I can always leave you hanging if you prefer.”

You roll your eyes. He’s got you there and the smug smile on his face tells you that he knows it, too. 

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you, angel.” 

You huff out a sigh. “Fuck me.”

Finnick hums thoughtfully as if he’s debating it, but you can feel the tip of his hard cock poking at your dripping entrance teasingly. It’s just enough to have you on edge again. “I will— but only if you ask me nicely.”

You groan and try to push against him but his hands fly down to your hips, keeping you firmly pinned in place. “Finn, don’t be a tease.”

“I’m not being a tease,” Finnick shrugs, pushing in just enough to have your back arching off of the bed. He laughs. Bastard, you think. “You know I’ll give you what I want, angel. All you have to do is ask me.”

“I’m not begging,” You protest. 

Finnick laughs. “That’s a bold-faced lie and we both know it, baby.” He pushes in another inch before he pulls out completely, leaving you whining. “Come on. You can do it. Ask me.” 

“Finnick,” You groan, but he doesn’t move. Finally, you sigh and resign to your fate. “Please. ‘M asking nicely. Just fuck me already.” 

The words have no sooner left your lips before he’s pushing back into you. The breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs and Finnick slows down, soothing you with gentle words of reassurance and careful, soft caresses. “I know, baby. I know. You’re doing so well. Taking me like a good girl. My good girl. So good, angel.”

Slowly but surely, he pushes into you, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. You wriggle your hips at him and he takes the hint, pulling out of you before pushing back in again. 

The thing about Finnick is, even when he is fucking you hard and fast, there is still always an element of love-making to it. No matter how rough he is, there will always be something he does that reminds you of how much he loves you. 

“God, you feel so good,” He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck. You grab him by the hair and pull him impossibly closer, winding your arms around his neck when he’s near enough. 

“I’m close,” You whine, sucking a hickey onto his chest. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum.”

Finnick’s thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to the edge himself, and you can feel that too familiar coil tightening in the depths of your stomach. He moves in and bites at the spot right behind your ear that he knows drives you wild. “You gonna cum? Come on, angel, I know you’re close. Can feel you clenching around me like a god-damn vice. Christ, I love you so much. Want you to cum. You think you’ll be able to do that for me? Can my pretty baby cum for me? Come on, I know you can—” 

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and Finnick isnt far behind you. You can feel him spilling inside of you, and your cunt flutters as his cock pulses and his thrusts get sloppier yet again. “Finnick!”

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to help you ride out your orgasm. He whispers words of praise as you both come down from your highs.

You pull him in for a kiss and pant into his mouth. Finnick’s tongue dances with yours and his breath is heavy and strained as he tries to catch his breath. He pulls out of you and swallows your whine of protest with yet another kiss. “I know, angel, I know,” He mumbles, caressing your hair as he rolls off of you and pulls you down to lie flush against his chest. 

You nuzzle into his chest, craving the warmth of his body and he wraps his arms around you tightly. You press a lazy kiss to his chest and he laughs into your hair. “Feeling better?”

“Best Mother’s Day present ever.” 

He chuckles. “Well, there’s more to that present.” 

You quirk a brow. “Do tell.”

Finnick kisses your temple. “Well, you should know by now that I’m not a one round man.” He teases. 

You whack his chest playfully. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Is that a no?” 

“Of course it’s not.” Finnick chuckles. “Now, who’s the insatiable one, huh?”

[allisluv]

JOHANNA GIVING READER SNACKS WHEN HER BLOOD SUGAR IS SLOW WLW

Ok thanks honey 🤭-

whipped.

pairing: johanna mason x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, johanna is in fact whipped, alcohol, brief mention of the drinks used in the capitol to make you sick, low blood sugars and diabetes, my limited medical knowledge but i pinky promise i tried my best, teasing, use of pet-names.

authors note: i myself do not have diabetes so please correct me if anything i said is portrayed incorrectly! i did try my best to research and my intentions are never to cause any harm or offence <3 // reblogs and comments are appreciated!

word count: 0.9k

Johanna Mason has been described as many, many things in her very short lifetime; cold-hearted, blunt, manipulative, sneaky, rude--- now that she thinks of it, almost every negative adjective to ever exist has been attributed to her at least once.

And honestly? She wouldn't say they're wrong. It's not that she wants to be any of those things. She just kind of... is. And, well, she figures it is far too late in her life to change her tune now. Besides, there would be no point, not when this lifestyle works for her.

She doesn't mind them thinking badly of her, really. They're Capitol-- they drink alcohol specifically designed to make them sick with the sole purpose of eating more, meanwhile people in the districts have their ribs on display.

Their selfish opinions do not matter in the slightest to her, but at the same time, she doesn't mind playing into it, either. Half of them think she will jam a carving knife into their jugular if they approach her, so they steer clear, which works just fine for her.

Johanna hates these Capitol galas, anyway. She loathes the bright colours and the obnoxious outfits and the food that shouts greed! in everybody's faces.

If it weren't mandatory to attend the galas, she would avoid them. But unfortunately for her, it is mandatory, so she just has to suck it up for another five hours.

Great.

The one thing that makes this awful situation even remotely bearable is you.

When she grips a flask of champagne so tightly that it turns into a very real possibility that it might shatter in her hand, you redirect her attention and it's easier to breathe.

When a drunk Capitol citizen decides to be brave enough to strike up a conversation with the two of you, she's grateful when you swoop in and manage to come up with excuse after excuse on why you have to leave.

Everything is easier with you.

Johanna is in the middle of scowling at two women from the Capitol who keep going on and on about this years upcoming games when she catches sight of a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She watches as you sway on your feet and grasp the corner of a nearby sofa to steady yourself.

She frowns, stepping closer to you and securing an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. "Are you okay?" You nod and give her a weak smile that she can see right through. "Bullshit."

One of the Capitol women smiles into her glass of wine. "Well, looks like someone can't handle their liquor, huh?" Her friend dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Johanna resists the urge to snap back at them, and instead, focuses in on you. "Babe. You done with the bullshitting?"

You try to brush her hand off and insist, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just got a bit dizzy is all."

A crease forms between her sharp brows. She doesn't bother saying goodbye as she steers you away from the women and out of the gala, into a secluded hallway. "Have you checked your sugars lately?"

You shake your head and she heaves a sigh, helping you sit down in a leather armchair.

She kneels down by your feet and takes your unsteady hands in hers. "Give me your bag. C'mon."

You unloop your bag from around your body and hand her it. She digs through the contents until she finds your blood glucose meter.

She's done this many a time before. She inserts the test strip into the meter and uses the lancing device to prick your pointer finger. A quiet wince of pain hisses from your lips and she mutters a quiet, "I know, I know. I'm sorry." She squeezes the blood onto the test strip and holds your other hand as she waits for the reading. A number flashes on the screen, far too low for her liking, and she frowns. "You're a little low. We need to get those sugars up, alright?"

Johanna wastes no time in rooting through your bag for the juice box you keep stashed in there for emergencies like this one. She pops the straw through the hole at the top and raises it to your parted lips. Her free hand rests on your knee, and she smooths the pad of her thumb up and over your skin as you take slow sips.

Once she's satisfied, she sits back on her heels and sets the juice box down on the floor beside her. "We're gonna wait a while for that to get into your system, okay, sweetheart? Then we can check again, and if they aren't up, we can try the skittles."

There's a moment of quiet, where the only sounds come from inside the ballroom down the hall.

You lean back in the leather armchair as Johanna continues to hold your hand. "You don't have to do this, you know." You say eventually.

"Do what?" Johanna frowns.

"Take care of me. You don't have to."

"I know that," She nods, and as if she can read your mind, she says, "I am not doing this out of obligation, you know that, right? I'm simply doing this because I love you."

A small, tired smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Finnick was right."

She cocks her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

"He told me you were whipped. I just didn't believe him."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. "I am the furthest thing from whipped, all have you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, if I asked you to go get me a bottle of water, you would?"

"Why? Do you want water? I can go get some--"

You grin victoriously. "See? Whipped!"

[allisluv]

for totally appropriate and pg reasons....I imagine finnick having reader suck on his fingers when she's too loud..so pg..

flattery will get you nowhere.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, brief mentions of the war, found family trope, nsfw, finnick is such a tease, praise kink, risk of being caught but not really at the same time, petnames, use of the phrase "good girl", finnick has reader suck on his fingers to stay quiet, soft!dom finnick.

word count: 1k

To commemorate the first year since the war ended, Peeta and Katniss invite you, Finnick and the rest of your friend group over for dinner at their new house on the coast. 

Finnick comes out of the bathroom with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. The smell of cologne wafts into the bedroom as he runs a hand through his golden curls. “I’m ready to go if you—” He cuts himself off when he sees you. 

You’re wearing a white dress that stops right above your knees. A golden pendant with Finnick’s initials is draped around your neck. Youre slipping a pair of matching dangly earrings into your lobes when your husband’s voice cuts through the air. You make eye contact with him through the reflection in the mirror and smile. “Hey.” 

Finnick grins and two dimples carve their way into the spot above his lips. He steps up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Jesus Christ, woman, I swear you’re trying to kill me before we even leave the house.”

You laugh as he presses feather-light kisses along the slender column of your throat. “Oi. We can’t be late. Effie will have my head on a platter if I’m not there on time.” 

Finnick groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers trail down the length of your arms. “Do we have to go, angel? Can’t we just stay here?” 

You roll your eyes upwards, but you can feel a hot heat pooling between your thighs. Your voice holds a warning tone as you say, “Finn.” 

He drops his voice an octave, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You know that I would make it worth your while, hm?” 

You weigh up the options in your head. On the one hand, you want nothing more than to stay here and have him take care of you like you desperately need but you know you can’t. “We can’t let them down.”

“Why not?” He kisses the sweet spot behind your ear and grins when you melt into him. 

Fucking smug bastard. 

“Because Katniss and Peeta are expecting us. And it is rude to let them down.” You argue. “I know we’re staying the night but surely you can have some self- control for less than twenty-four hours.”

Finnick pouts. “But you look so pretty in that dress, baby.” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Finnick grins. “That’s not what you said the other night when—”

“Oi!”

He laughs. “Alright, I’ll keep my hands to myself… for now.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and pulls away before taking you by the hand and interlacing your fingers together. “C’mon. Let’s get going.”

Finnick keeps his hand on your thigh all the way from your house to Katniss and Peeta’s. His fingers every so often trail higher, tracing the lining of your underwear innocently before his hand goes back to your thigh and his eyes back to the road.

It’s warm inside of Katniss and Peeta’s house. Annie, Johanna, Beetee, Haymitch and Effie are already at the dinner table as Finnick leads you over to an empty seat, where he sits you down and settles down beside you. His hand falls back to your thigh. 

Dinner passes smoothly. Everyone talks and drinks wine or water and by the time dessert is served, your stomachs are fit to burst. The conversations pass well into the early evening, and eventually, when the tiredness sets in, every one starts to retreat to the guest bedrooms. 

You’re on edge by the time you and Finnick head back to the bedroom. Once the door is locked behind you, you spin on your heel to face him.

Finnick grins. “What’s wrong, angel? You look flushed.” His voice holds mock sympathy and you can tell that he is holding back a laugh. 

“You’re such a dick.” You hiss out, folding your arms over your chest. 

Finnick does laugh this time. “Huh? What’re you talking about, angel?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mister. What was that, hm? Sliding your hand up my thigh when we were eating our dinner, whispering dirty things in my ear, sitting me in your lap when we were on the sofa?” 

Finnick grins like the cocky bastard he is. 

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “Well?”

“Well, what, baby?”

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

Finnick tsks his tongue but obliges by crossing the room in a few quick strides and guiding you to sit down on the edge of the bed. “So needy,” he chastises. 

“Don’t test me, Finn,” You huff. 

He cuts you off by slotting his lips over your own and swallowing your moans. His hands slip up the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up over your hips as he makes quick work of ridding yourself of your underwear. He groans into your mouth and his fingers slip under the thin material. “You’re soaked, angel. Can I take these off?” 

You nod but he cocks his head to one side with an arched brow, silently telling you that he wants to hear you say it. You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Take them off.”

Usually, he would make you beg for it or give out to you for being bratty, but if the bulge in his pants is anything to go by, he’s just as needy as you are, if not more. 

He pulls your panties down your legs and tosses them to one side carelessly. Slipping his tongue into your mouth once more, he runs his fingers through your folds and he groans. “You really are trying to kill me.”

You moan. “Please.” 

Finnick shushes you gently. “Need you to be quiet, f’me, angel. Think you can do that?” His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he lifts the same hand and coaxes your lips apart so that you are taking his thumb. He smiles as you suck on his thumb, using his other hand to gather your wetness and increase the pressure and pace of his fingers. “There you are. There’s my good girl. I’m gonna fuck you soon, but you have to show me you’re gonna stay quiet, got it?”

[allisluv]

this is a random idea, and you totally dont have to write it if you arent comfortable but could i maybe request a oneshot about reader who sh with finnick and like they havent had sex yet because she doesnt want him to see her scars and its just lots of comfort and really fluffy?

good things come to those who wait.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!victor!reader

content warnings: this work contains topics regarding self-harm and scars, however nothing is graphic at all, and this is mainly focused on the comfort aspect of things. finnick is a sweetie pie, pre-established relationship, mentions of sex but nothing intimate, hurt/comfort.

word count: 1.0k

author's note: this is a topic that really hits home with me, and my intentions are never and will never be to offend anyone. my inbox and dm's are always open. this work is purely made to help people feel less alone, not to romanticise any topics covered.

Finnick has always been ever so sweet with you. He has never once made you feel pressured into doing anything you weren’t ready for, and that’s one of the many things that separate him from your past boyfriends. 

You know he would never even think about judging you for the scars on your thighs but no matter how much you reassure yourself that he wouldn’t mind, there is still that tiny voice in the back of your head that says, “What if?”

You’re seven months into your relationship with Finnick when you decide that it’s best you sit him down and have a conversation with him about how youre feeling. Things are starting to get serious and you can tell that despite his gentleness and his patience, he’s beginning to worry that there’s another reason for why you havent slept with him yet. Finnick opened up to you about his sexual trauma in the Capitol pretty early on into your relationship and you don’t want him to worry that you think he’s “broken” or “damaged goods” and that’s why you haven’t slept with each other yet, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

You think Finnick is without a doubt the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on— but he’s so much more than that, too. Hes considerate and thoughtful and caring and kind and you don’t want to ever make him think he’s not good enough. 

So despite your anxiety, you push through and anxiously wait on the sofa for Finnick to return home from his dip in the ocean. 

Your heart is thudding against your ribcage so fast that you fear it may jump straight out of your chest. The front door opens and shuts before Finnick calls out your name. 

“Im in here!” You shout back, focusing all your effort on keeping your voice steady and calm. 

Finnick peeks his head into the living room and smiles. Two dimples poke into his cheeks, one on either side of his mouth, as he grabs a beach towel off the radiator and starts to dry himself off. He’s caught off guard when you don’t immediately start chastising him for dripping water in the house, and that is the first thing that sends bells off in his head. “Angel? You okay?” 

You suck in a steadying breath and pat the sofa next to you. “Can we talk?” Finnick’s mind starts whirring into overdrive as he worries that you might be breaking this off with him, and you instantly backtrack when you see the panic on his face. “No, no, I’m sorry. Don’t panic, I just need to tell you something. It’s nothing bad, Finnick, I promise.”

He seems to relax a little at your comforting words but his steps are still tentative as he crosses the room and sits down on the sofa next to you. “Alright,” He says warily. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You know this is going to be an awkward conversation to have, but both you and Finnick agreed that communication was key to maintaining a healthy relationship. You figure you might as well be honest and get this over with. There’s no point in beating around the bush so you come right out and say it as bluntly as possible. “I wanted to talk about why we haven’t had sex yet. I mean, that’s something you want, right?”

Finnick nods reassuringly. “Of course it is but only when you’re ready. I don’t want you feeling pressured into it.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “I want to. God, I really, really want to. I’m just scared.” 

Finnick tilts his head to one side but slowly reaches out to grab your hand. He intertwines your fingers together. “Okay. What are you scared of, angel?”

It takes everything in you not to burst into tears and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before talking aloud. “I have scars. On my thighs.”

Realisation dawns on Finnick but he doesn’t open his mouth to say anything. Instead, he nods to show that he is listening, and squeezes your hand to encourage you to continue. 

“I was going through a really tough time after I won my games. I turned to some… well, less than healthy coping mechanisms. I’m better now. I haven’t done… that, in a good few years. But I still have scars from it.” You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes trained on a spot on the floor in front of you. “I know you wouldn’t judge me but I was just scared that you’d think I was damaged or—”

“Okay, let me stop you there.” Finnick cuts in. His voice is stern but soft. “Angel, some scars don’t scare me, and they certainly don’t make me think you’re anything less than beautiful. All it does is tell me how resilient my girl is. I would never think less of you for this. I need you to know that, alright?” 

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. “No, I know that, I just— I don’t know. I was scared you were gonna leave me.” 

Finnick uses his free hand to smooth your hair off your forehead. “I know, angel, I know,” He murmurs. “Youre not gonna get rid of me that easily, okay? I’m in this for the long haul.” He smiles softly and knocks his shoulder into yours. 

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you finally make eye contact with him. “You’re not saying this just to make me feel better, right?”

Finnick scoffs but his voice is full of affection when he speaks. “Angel, you should know by now that I’m gonna tell you the truth, regardless of if you want to hear it or not.”

You chuckle. “Fair point, well made.” You hesitate. “So, you know, just to clarify, you do want to sleep with me?”

Finnick grins. “More than anything. But we’re gonna do this at your pace, okay? We’re gonna take it as slow as you need.”

Your lips tug downwards into a frown. “You don’t mind waiting?”

Finnick pecks your forehead. “You know what they say, good things come to those who wait.” He pauses. “And, angel?”

“Mhm?” 

“Scars or not, I still think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”