#finnick odair x fem! reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryenluvs · 4 months

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OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk - massive thank you to @motelofmermaids and @lust4lore for their help with reading and writing!!!

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 4 months

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what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

Finnick Odair.

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

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

That was what everyone made him out to be.

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

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

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

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

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

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

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at thi—"

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

Damn that stupid seashell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed.

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

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

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

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

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

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

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

How did he keep doing that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who could've guessed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Better?" he asked.

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

"Anytime."

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

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

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

How could he?

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

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

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

"Stop moving."

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

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

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

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

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

"Fuck," he breathed out.

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

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

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

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

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

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

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

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

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

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

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes,"you practically whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is what did it for you.

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

"Taking it so well."

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

"Such a good girl."

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

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

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

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

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

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

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

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

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

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

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

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

"Feeling better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the explosion.

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

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

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

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

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

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come inside you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a new moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For an entire hour?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

...roll credits

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coryosbaby · 4 months

Text

18+, MDNI

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

I’m sorry, but I believe this wholeheartedly .

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

“Love your pussy, love it so much..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper

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murdrdocs · 5 months

Text

fem!reader; explicit content MDNI

your behavior is nothing short of desperate.

you know it. your hips canting up into the air, catching absolutely no friction yet you try and try.

finnick knows it, if the way he was looking at you is anything to go by. raised eyebrows that made his green eyes widen. pink lips parted as if he was going to say something.

johanna knows it, her face completely smug like you've seen before. yet, this time it's directed towards you. she has you in the palm of her hands. and she's proud of it.

“what? finnick hasn’t been treating you right?” johanna sends a smirk, but not to you. instead, it's directed towards finnick behind you. you hear his scoff, and you don’t have to see him to picture the look on his face.

eyes rolling, an unimpressed facade painted onto his pretty face, but his lips would be turned up at the corners with johanna’s suggestion. because you both know it’s the opposite. you figure that johanna, with the way she smiles to herself before getting to her knees, knows that as well.

surely the way finnick treats you is next to public knowledge at this point. at least very clear within your friend group, as you've never so much as complained about him, instead all smiles as finnick was consistently at your every beck and call.

as if to prove her wrong even more, finnick speaks. "you and i both know that's not true, johanna."

his doting behavior is why you're here in the first place, pursuing a fantasy that started off as a tipsy and sleepy hypothetical. your finnick loved you so much that he made it a reality. and he was as happy about it as you were, kissing at your neck and shoulders as his hand began to massage your exposed tits.

together, finnick and johanna have ridded you of your dress, the material nothing but a bunch of fabric in the corner of your bedroom now. it was too nice to be treated that way, and you maybe would've felt more towards its discarded state if johanna weren't pulling your panties down your legs.

she does so slowly, marveling at your cunt with each centimeter of revealed skin. when the fabric is halfway down your thighs, her lips open as if she's shocked. "i don't know..." she sings, letting you step out of the little number completely before she brings the cotton to her nose, taking a deep inhale and even going as far as to let her eyes flutter shut. "has she ever gotten this wet for you?"

punctuating her taunt, johanna slides two fingers between your folds. you shudder at the feeling, your legs pushing open even further which puts more weight on finnick. he's there to hold you up, slinking an arm around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

he stares down at the digits johanna displays, as do you, and you are embarrassingly wet. maybe you would've sunken into the slightly unpleasant feeling more if johanna hadn't bought her fingers to her lips, sucking lewdly and releasing them with an exaggerated pop!.

finnick is quick to put johanna in her place. “she's been wetter."

johanna hums, completely undeterred. she wraps one of her lithe hands around the back of your thigh, hoisting it over her shoulder as she situates herself between the inviting tower of your legs.

and before she dives in, she says one more thing, something you hope to be true.

"the night is still young."

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x fem!reader #johanna mason x you #johanna mason smut #finnicksworld!#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #celeste writes thg

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coryosmin · 4 months

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The Hunger Games Characters x Fem! Reader

How certain characters would enjoy pleasuring you

MDNI - 18+ Content

Coryo - Coryo would take pride in being able to give you head. He will E A T your cunt like it’s the last meal he will ever be given. He’s so messy with it and loves when his lips are swollen and glistening from your juices. He would make you cum at least three times with his mouth before he would do anything else. More often than not, he gets pussy drunk because he just absolutely loves eating you out. He definitely moans against your pussy.

Sejanus - Sejanus is so into fingering and rubbing your clit. If you’re stressed, his sweet fingers will help you unwind. He knows exactly where your clit is, being able to make you cum in minutes by simply rubbing the nub. He knows exactly how to curl his fingers to get you to gush around him. He’s definitely the time to position you between his legs, your back to his chest, while he whispers VERY DIRTY things in a VERY LOVING tone in your ear while he fingers you hard.

Finnick - Finnick would be the type to enjoy pleasuring you by using anything and everything. He just loves to make you cum. His absolute favorite would definitely be with his cock. Being able to pleasure you with himself does big things to his dick lol. Him thrusting into you the way you absolutely need it. He would make sure to angle himself so he’s hitting that sweet spot repeatedly. And when you cum and clamp on his cock while gushing around him, it gives him so much pride to know that you enjoyed him so much. He wouldn’t cum until you’ve cum at least twice.

Peeta - Mans is sweet. I feel like he’s the type to want to cum together. So he would definitely want you to cum while he’s inside of you. He’d fuck you nice and lovingly (he’s so vanilla) while also rubbing your clit, playing with your nipples, kissing your neck. Anything to make you finish on him. He’d be the type to want you to cum only once and that once will be while he’s inside of you.

Johanna - THIS WOMAN MAKES ME FERAL OKAY. FIRST OF ALL, she is so into scissoring. Feeling her clit rubbing against yours makes you both cum so fast. It’s just so hot to hear the wetness of both of your cunts dripping with arousal. She would be the type to make you cum in three different ways in one night - fingering, eating you out, and then scissoring. She wants you to be withering for her, to know that only she can give you such pleasures.

If you have any requests, feel free to ask!

#fanfic #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #fem!reader #sejanus plinth #peeta mellark #Finnick odair #johanna mason #coriolanus snow x reader #sejanus plinth x reader #peeta x reader #finnick odair x reader #coriolanus snow smut

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lucy-gray1075 · 1 month

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finnick odair who's always picking you up like it's second nature to him. he doesn't even have to expend any energy, he just wraps one big arm around your waist and tugs you into him, lifting your feet off the floor. he grabs your thigh with his other arm, hand squeezing your ass as he encourages you to wrap your legs around his torso so he can kiss you harder.

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ficmenrhot · 4 months

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Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

————————————

I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

——————————————————————

A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair smut #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #finnick smut #finnick odair drabble #thg finnick #thg series #finnick fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick x you #finnick angst

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lovekendri · 1 year

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shameless | finnick odair

finnick odair x fem!reader

request: Hiii! i love your peeta fics, would you be able to do a Finnick story kinda the same as your one with peeta where it’s the reader’s first time? ♥️

thank you so much for your request @emiiixx! this was originally just going to be a fluffy fun spicy fic but i think this might have what you're looking for! ♡

summary: you attend a celebration party for your boyfriend's 10th anniversary as a hunger games victor, his charisma leads you to your first time.

cw: 18+ only! established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), bit of a pleasure dom!finnick, inexperienced!reader, mention of fingering, tiny bit of a choking kink, praise kink, marking kink if you squint, aftercare!

wc: 2.6k

type: ❀ | ✽

Loud yet incoherent music pumped throughout the crowded central area of District 4, a celebration for none other than your boyfriend.

You were lost in crowds of people and circles of tables, yet flooded with questions and admiration of how incredibly lucky you were to have such a desirable man, how delightful he must be to have around your finger.

In reality, you were wrapped around his finger.

He was yours, you were his, it was a truly simple relationship to the unlucky outsiders. From afar, you'd watch him be spun around by eager teenage girls and obsessed older ladies, desperate middle aged mothers and intoxicated younger girls. You watched him receive kisses on the cheeks, girls jumping for just a single peck anywhere near his lips.

He was yours.

A cup in your hand and surrounded by teenage girls dying to know what a kisser he was at their young age, you felt superior to consider him yours.

"He's definitely a good kisser, right?" one girl would chirp, pleading to be heard over the boom of loud speakers.

"What about a tongue kisser? Does he like that?" another would pry.

"My boyfriend loves to do that stuff," the third would drawl, fanning herself in exclamation.

"Oh, honey, I don't think you know the next thing about tongue kissing yet," you'd say, giving a breathy laugh. "You'll get there."

You walked past multiple groups of people, some who wouldn't acknowledge you, but others who waved politely and said hello.

Your target was Finnick, and as you walked up to him, you set a light hand on his shoulder and trailed your fingers around his black collared shirt.

It was your favorite way to get his attention.

He turned to you almost immediately, a glint of light in his eyes appeared and a playful grin grew on his face as he trailed you walking around to his side, signature smile glowing.

He admired your matching sparkly black dress, taking in the sight before speaking.

"I missed your face, pretty girl," he said, just loud enough to hear over the blare of music, taking your jaw into his rough hand and grazing your lips with his thumb. His hand was swift to trail around your neck and down your back to pull you to his side.

Loud cheers from a group of people sounded from behind you at the gesture, as you two were the life of the party. He smiled at the acknowledgement, your giggle lighting up his face. He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead softly, fingers squeezing at your side.

Besides fighting off girls, he was talking to other mentors and victors of District 4, popular among the other Careers who had fought alike to the death. It was common to have them over at your house in Victor's Village to have small gatherings and dinners.

"I'll say day after day, lucky woman," a female victor said to you, winking at you and nodding her head toward Finnick.

"Oh, please. I'm sure you could get him any day, having won the Hunger Games and all," you joked back, ignoring the playful glare down from Finnick and the bite of his fingers digging into your side to pull you closer.

Her name was Rose, and she was a bit of an older lady, probably in her late 30's, early 40's. She supposedly won the Games when she was 16, pretty much the average age to win, but she was pretty, blonde, tall, and looked surprisingly young. Though, you suppose, the Capitol helps out with that a bit.

Rose and another male victor laughed with you as Finnick rolled his eyes and sputtered about how he wishes he could strangle you sometimes, and that you drive him insane most days.

"Man," Finnick lowered his voice to talk in the small circle of four other people as they leaned in to hear him, "I'd enjoy some sugar cubes and sparkling juice in the comfort of my own home right now."

The victors in the circle laughed nodding in agreement. You watched a male victor put his hands into his pockets, his posture slouching back in his dress shirt and pants. Another victor took a sip of his drink, while Rose looked toward Finnick.

"You should share some sugar cubes with your lovely girlfriend," she joked, "I'm sure she'd love them."

Finnick turned to you, nodding.

"I know it's my party, but I'm sneaking out of here," he laughed, "nobody will notice anyways with you guys around."

Finnick winked at Rose and another victor that was paying attention, sliding his hand into yours and pulling you away from the party, pushing through a small gate to lead you toward Victor's Village.

He was practically dragging you through roads.

"Slow down!" you laughed, "we don't have to fly out of the party!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, halfway down a lit street toward his house. Not expecting him to stop so abruptly, you slammed into him.

"Not that slow!" you said, playfully punching his arm as you giggled out the pain in your cheek that you felt.

"Oh, you're fine," he said, grabbing your jaw, and kissing you on the forehead once again.

You loved when he kissed you anywhere, but you loved forehead kisses and steamy make-out sessions. Finnick made you feel like the only girl in the world, the only one he lusted and loved for.

He pulled you the rest of the way to his house, pulling his keys out of his dress pants pocket to unlock the door.

He pushed open the door, flipping on the light switch and leading you directly to his cozy living room, the simple chandelier casting a warm beige glow over the room.

You fell face first into the denim colored velvet couch, rubbing your hands into the soft fabric and releasing a heavy exhale in relief. You felt the couch dip beside your legs, and the zipper on the back of your dress loosened, slowly being undone.

"Can I take your shoes off for you, love?" he asked, his hand now rested on your back at the bottom of your zipper.

You kicked your feet up onto his lap, and exhaled once again, getting comfy as he helped you undress. He had no problem undoing your heel buckles and pulling them off, dropping them onto the ground.

You heard Finnick take a long inhale, running the hand that rested on your back along your spine and onto the back of your neck. He leaned down, laying halfway on the side of the couch.

Gently tucking his face into your neck, he gave you a few pecks on the empty spaces his hand didn't cover.

"Finnick," you exhaled into the couch, lifting a hand to place on his thick bicep. He paused his kisses, listening to your quiet breathing get faster.

"Something wrong, my love?" he asked, murmuring into your neck. Licking a spot on your neck and biting it softly, he pushed a gasp out of your throat.

"Didn't think so."

You squeezed his arm once more, tingles and swirling heat building in your stomach as he kissed you more, leaving small bruises along your neck the more he bit.

"Can we try something new tonight?" he asked quietly, face still buried into your neck and hand wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling where your head moved if you even tried to move it.

He had as much as fingered you before, and you two often made out. You had never experienced full sex with him, but you were eager to if he offered.

"I'd have no problem with that," you said, your stomach now a whirling tornado of heat and butterflies the more he spoke. Your throat was constricting from both his hand and the anticipation, nervous to try something so new with him.

He erected himself once again, sitting up straight on the couch and dragging his hands around your hips. Squeezing your waist, he pulled at your hips to have you sit up for him.

You picked yourself up, adjusting yourself to face him.

Your cheeks were hot from laying face down, but also because of the way he admired you, his eyes darting around your body as he took in your image with a sharp inhale.

"Come here, pretty girl," he cooed, undoing the belt that held up his dress pants, watching your expression like a hawk as you stared in awe at his seemingly perfect and precise movements.

Your cheeks began to burn bright red as you watched him pull the belt from the belt loops and undo the button around his waist, your stomach swirling aggressively with heat and arousal as he watched you.

He left the button open, pushing the fabric to the side and revealing a set of black boxers and readjusting his hips to sit away from the couch cushion, manspreading, as he grabbed for your hips to pull you on top of him.

You scooted toward him, allowing him to grab you by the hips and pull you on top of his lap, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

This would be the only time you were taller than him, and the way his warm, plump lips guided and pushed against yours erupted a volcano of butterflies. Your thighs were bare against his legs, the soft fabric of his pants warm and inviting.

Your dress was loose against your back, the thin straps beginning to fall down your shoulders ever so slightly, the hem of the dress riding up your legs the more you kissed him, his hands tightly gripped onto your hips.

Finnick was focused on making you feel the best he could, trailing his lips down your jaw and throat, kissing dangerously low on your collarbone and chest.

When he pulled away, you met his eyes, looking down at him for the first time in your life. They were darkened with lust and desire, his mouth curling up on the sides as he watched the redness of your face deepen, your eyes darkening with the same lust, plagued with need.

He looked down, a small breathy laugh falling out of his lips. He moved his face toward your chest, his hands slowly moving up your hips to place his hands over your breasts.

He kissed around your breasts, sometimes licking a small spot before biting it until he dropped his hands onto your hips again.

Moving his face up your neck to rest his lips against your ear, he whispered.

"You ready, love?"

You exhaled quietly, nodding as he adjusted his pants once again, pulling down his boxers.

It sort of sprung up against his stomach, a perfect length with girth, a few prominent small veins running up to a glistening dark pink head.

Your face was the color of a ripe tomato, watching as he stroked himself once or twice, grabbing your hips and looking up to you once again.

You lifted yourself up, preparing for him to sit you himself.

As he adjusted to sit you on him, the entrance of his dick for the first time sent electrifying butterflies through your body, a light moan pushing past your lips as he sat you all the way down with ease, your thighs once again meeting his dress pants.

He grabbed for your ass, squeezing gently as he began to rock you back and forth, hitting the perfect spot to send butterflies and heat coursing through your body.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned, throwing his head back, gripping your ass tighter as he forced himself to move your hips at the same pace.

Small moans and whimpers released from your throat every time he rocked you, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his head into your chest as you gripped the back of his shirt.

He began to move you faster, his fingers digging into your ass to leave a definite mark on you the next morning.

"You feel so good," he praised, his moans breathy and deep, heat building quickly in your stomach as he moved your hips faster.

He shook your arms loose a bit to kiss your neck once again, biting harsher than before, licking the spots when you'd gasp. You'd push your head down to kiss him, moans and whimpers threatening to break the kiss when he'd thrust just right, the friction between your thighs and his pants growing hot. Your straps had fallen down your shoulders now, your breasts barely covered by a strip of fabric with Finnick's face buried by your neck.

The fact he was fully clothed while you were practically falling naked in front of him was oddly arousing, the idea of him watching you strip from his thrusts made your face hot. The darkened light of the living room and the occasional creak of the old couch left the room in a steamy sensation, the rest of the house black with empty light while nothing mattered to Finnick, just you feeling good.

This was the best thing he'd ever treated you to, his perfect dick sliding in and out of you with no effort, the kisses and nips he'd leave at your neck to mark you as his. The muffled sound of skin slapping as pants met bare thigh, the jingle of the metal buckle that laid to the side.

"Come on, I know you're close, baby."

You felt the rush of an upcoming orgasm as he plead for you, his hands grew impossibly tighter on you, practically slamming you onto his cock as your body erupted in butterflies.

"Cum for me, pretty girl."

White hot heat burst through your body, loud moans and cusses falling from your lips as he worked you through your orgasm, the butterflies and searing pleasure overtaking your body as you collapsed against his chest, your head falling to his shoulder.

Deep moans erupted from his mouth as he worked himself through his own orgasm moments later, slowing you to a halt, his hands leaving your ass to caress your body.

"You're such a good girl," he cooed once again, kissing your neck and pulling you up from his body to look at him.

His smile was soft and genuine, your body exhausted from the best thing you'd ever felt.

"Let's get you cleaned up, darling," he whispered, pulling you off of his lap to place you down against a pillow off to the side.

He stood up, buttoning his pants once again and leaving the room for a few minutes.

You'd heard various lights switch on and off, listening to the softness of his footsteps around the house.

Finnick came back with a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old tee of his, a wet towel, and a small box of cookies and water from the pantry.

Helping you up, he wiped you down with the towel, helping you take off your dress and replace it with the pajamas and tee. He sat you back down against the cushion, turning around to grab the cookies.

"The best for last," he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly as he set the cookies and water on the table in front of you, turning on the tv to a show you'd never seen before, the volume barely up.

As you took a cookie, he laid down next to you and placed your head on his lap, relaxing as you combed your fingers through his hair, the sound of the tv and the quietness of his breath soon lulling you to sleep.

main masterlist | my profile | thg masterlist | request | proof-read: ✓

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vivizz777 · 22 days

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making out with finnick would start off innocently enough but quickly he’d have you underneath him. he’d be hovering over you, his arms held himself up and your hands would be his hair. his tounge moving against yours and he bit your bottom lip softly. you didn’t realize his knee gradually making in in between your legs until it was right against you. he held the side of your face softly with one of his hands and moved his knee gently against you. your mouth hung open and you instinctively grinded against him. a whine escaped your mouth as the pressure on your clit was making you throb. you covered your mouth and looked away embarrassed from your reaction. “don’t go all shy on me now” he said and you could practically hear the grin on his face. yours however felt like it was going to burn off because of how much you were blushing. “wanna hear those pretty sounds” your eyes met his “this okay?” “please” responding too quickly before wrapping your arms around his neck. you starting grinding against him again, small whimpers spilling from you. “not enough..” you whined. “want me to use my fingers, sweetheart?” “please finn..” the wet spot in your underwear grew bigger as he started pulling your shorts down. his hand palmed your cunt over your underwear. “so wet and i haven’t even done anything” he teased. he removed your panties and moved two of his fingers through your wet folds, gathering your slick. slowly, he pushed a finger inside you, curling it upward on that spongey spot inside you making you to clench around him. finnick thrusted his finger in and out of you before adding a second one. your walls stretched around him and moans poured out of you. “feels so good” your chest heaved and breath uneven, sweat on your forehead starting to bead up. he thumbed at your clit while his fingers plunged inside you roughly. “ ‘m so close finn- so close” “go ahead, cum for me, you can do it baby” one quick graze over your clit and you gushed all over his fingers. “mmh fuck!” loud sobs left you. finnick kissed your forehead and fucked his fingers into you through your orgasm. “did so good f’me, look so pretty when you cum” letting out praises as you came down from your high. “love you so much finnick” “love you too princess” leaving kisses on your stomach up to your chest and back onto your lips.

#finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick oneshot #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick smut

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

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𓆩[in our next life || II]𓆪

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - baby bombs (not literally like Gale) || talks of getting pregnant || thoughts of having a baby || reader is like extremely sex positive || Katniss is a bitch at first || Haymitch is lowkey in love with you, but like nicely but like romantically if that makes sense (he thinks you're super hot) || you lowkey hit on Katniss and Peeta || of course cursing and such || smut warnings, being walked in on, Finnick feels guilty during sex, breeding kink, dom! Finnick, sub! reader, degradation and praise, name calling (whore, good girl, bad girl, cum slut, etc.) (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in the masterlist)

When Mags’ name was drawn, you stepped forward immediately, your voice announcing, “I volunteer as tribute.”

The cheers get louder as they hold up yours and Finnick's hands, but when they let go, he pulls you into his chest, kissing you passionately. You can hear the cheers grow louder, and your eyes water as you pull him lower. You sniffle as he pulls away, stroking his cheek as you look over at Mags and nod. “I love you,” you whisper, but you’re both taken by hand into the back room. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew you both a kiss as you wave. Finnicks hand stays in the small of your back as you see Cinna, hugging him tightly as he sighed.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

You giggle, shrugging. “Just make me look good when I’m about to go out, Cinna darling.”

He winks. “That’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

Finnick sighs as he kisses your temple, all of you slowly going to the shuttle where Cinna leads you to the table, softly patting your shoulder. “I have a gift for you both.”

You raise a brow as Finnick pulls you into his lap - he was always more protective around Cinna, even since the beginning of your games where Finnick was your Mentor and Cinna designed your outfits.

Cinna slowly takes out two boxes, opening them to reveal matching gold bracelets. “A gift from Effie Trinket.”

Your nose scrunches as you look over at Finnick who looks up at Cinna. “Effie Trinket, the mentor for District 12?”

He nods. “Yes, the tributes are-”

You giggle. “Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The fakest couple in all of Panem,” you look back at Finnick, smiling. “They wish they could be us, darling.”

Cinna just laughs as he slowly takes them out of the boxes and puts them on each of your wrists, smiling. “Now Y/N, you know they’re only doing what they can to survive.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Well then she should be a better actress. It’s sad because he seems so in love with her. I hope he finds someone to love him like he does her.”

Finnick laughs with you, kissing your neck. “Why are we getting gifts from their mentor, hm Cinna? What does she want?”

“For you to make an alliance,” he explains as he slowly sits down. “Is there anything specific we want styled this time around? I’m thinking for the parade we go with something… netty.”

You purse your lips, thinking before looking at Cinna dead in the eye. “I want to get married before the games.”

His jaw drops as Finnick smiles against your skin, your eyes catching the blurring scenery outside of the train. “Married? I get to design the Prince and Princess’ of Panems wedding outfits?!”

You giggle, nodding. “If you would do us the favor, Cinna.”

He inhaled, dramatically waving at his face. “This is going to be amazing. Amazing, I say.”

“I want white,” Finnick says, Cinna nodding as he grabs a sketchpad from… somewhere, Finnick staring down at you with a smile. “It’s going to be the best day in the world when I marry the love of my life.”

His words make you giggle as you press a soft kiss to his lips, Cinna sighing. “I wish it was under better circumstances,” he says, smiling at you both before gasping. “Rings! I need to design rings!”

You giggle as he runs off, looking back at Finnick before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I… I don’t want to meet them.”

He paused, raising a brow. “The District 12 tributes?”

You nodded, but then shook your head. “Any of them. Johanna especially. They all survived their games and were promised that they would never have to suffer through it again, and now,” you inhale shakily as he kisses your temple, shushing you softly. “Now we’re all going back. My nightmares have barely gone away, Finnick, I can’t-”

He shook his head. “No, no darling, calm down. I’ll be there, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You inhaled, nodding into his neck before the blaring voice announced your quick arrival to the Capitol. He stood, carrying you in his arms as you both walked out, immediately being taken to the area where you would be prepared for the games, being cleaned, shaven, everything.

This could’ve been the one thing you missed, gentle hands caring for your body and cleansing you of whatever- it almost made you feel relaxed and calm.

But when you stood in front of the dark horses of the District 12 horses, you felt anything but.

You stroked their face, cooing softly at them as you watched them eat a sugar cube from your palm. You paused when you heard soft footsteps, smiling before looking up at Katniss who stood next to their side.

“Katniss Everdeen, as I live and breathe,” you say, giggling as the horse nudged into your shoulder. She was dressed extremely differently from you, your outfit going along with Finnick’s with a netted bralette covering your chest and a bikini-like bottom covered with a golden threaded net acting as a see-through skirt. You felt exposed, but you had definitely been more exposed to the Capitol’s eyes before. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled, even though it was obviously fake. She was not a good actor, you could tell that. “Y/N, Panem’s Princess. I never thought I’d meet you.”

You giggle in response, taking another sugar cube from your other hand and giving it to the other horse. “Oh? You’ve wanted to meet me, hm?”

Her face flashed between annoyed and the mask she wore, smiling wider at you. “Oh, always. My mother adored your reality show.”

You hum as you look over your shoulder, another pair of steps heading your way before you see Finnick. “You should work on your acting skills, Everdeen,” you say, turning back and smiling at her. “And your lying skills. They may have fooled Panem, but they will never fool me.”

Finnick comes behind you just as Peeta goes behind her, Cinna already walking toward you both. “I’m sorry you both had to cancel your wedding,” you say, Finnick’s arm immediately going around your waist as he pressed a firm kiss to your jaw. “But I do thank you for it. It gave us, people who are truly in love, space to get married. I hope to see you both there.”

“Now, Y/N, play nice,” Finnick mumbles against your skin, hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing slightly as his teeth graze your cheeks. “We want alliances, darling, not enemies.”

You just giggle, leaning into Finnick’s grip, even though you could feel Katniss glaring a hole into you. You finally look at her, her jaw clenching. “How do people pay for the pleasure of your company?”

You couldn’t stop giggling around Katniss, not when she acted so serious. You put out your hand, watching as she tensed under your touch. “Finnick takes secrets as his form of payment,” you say as he finally lets go of you, leaning close to her ear. “I take bodies. And not in the way you’re thinking.” You squeeze her arm, smiling at her before turning to Peeta. “I hope to speak to you later, Peeta. You definitely seem more fun to talk to.”

You take Finnick’s hand as he leads you away, Cinna quickly coming to fix your outfits before you mount onto your carriage. “Snow wants a show,” he whispers to you both, sighing. “I have a little surprise for our Princess,” he hands you a remote, pointing at the button. “You click this here and everything will happen, alright?”

You nod, smiling as the music begins to play. “Thank you, Cinna.”

He winks at you before jumping off, Finnick quickly taking your hand as the first carriage runs out. You tap his cheek, smiling as he compliantly looks down at you, pulling him down for a firm kiss. He smiled, his hand slipping to your hip before your carriage started to move. You pull away, tongue pushing into his mouth before your carriage emerges and you pull away. You turn back just enough to stare at Peeta and Katniss, winking at them as Finnick grabs your hand.

You wait until you’re in front of Snow to press the button, loud chants of your own and Finnick’s name filling the arena until loud gasps form instead. You look down, the golden net on your body slowly extending, a flowing blue skirt blowing into the wind almost like a waterfall. It extends off the edge of the carriage, long as the cheering gets louder. Your names turned into chants until District 12 came out, but Caesar’s voice was still praising you until the parade ended.

You both walk down the hall when it ends, that was until Haymitch caught you both and introduced you to Katniss and Peeta all over again. “It’s so nice to meet you both,” Finnick says with a grin, pulling you as close as possible to himself. “I wanted to speak to you guys earlier, but my pretty fiancée did all the talking.”

You pout as his hand goes around your throat again, but lean your head back as he softly squeezed. “Forgive me if I came across rude,” you say, smiling at Katniss. “I hope we can be allies in the games.”

Katniss scoffs. “What's the point when you’ll try to kill us?”

You paused, giggling as Finnick kissed your temple. “Nicely, darling.”

“If I wanted to kill you, Katniss, you’d be dead already,” you look at Haymitch, smiling. “I would love to be allies with your tributes if you can get her under control,” turning to Peeta, you wink as Finnick’s lips kiss against your cheek. “I like the boy. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Haymitch nods as you offer your hand, giggling as he takes it and pressed a firm kiss to the back. “I can’t wait to see you in white at your wedding.”

“Oh, you make me swoon, Haymitch,” you say, hand grazing his cheek as Finnick winks. “Guests are required to wear black. Finnick and I will be the only ones in white, even Snow is going to wear black,” you turn to Katniss. “The Princess of Panem has many things under her control.”

“I can see that.”

You giggle as Finnick slowly lets go of your throat, your hand moving away from Haymitch to softly caress her face. She inhaled sharply as you do so, and you purse your lips. “You really need to let loose, Katniss. No one likes a stick in the mud. Finnick, let’s go make love,” you giggle as her eyes widen. “Over and over again.”

Finnick smiles as you take his hand, softly kissing Peeta’s cheek. “See you at the interviews, pretty boy.”

When you’re far enough away, Haymitch sighs. “What I would do to get a kiss from her.”

Katniss scoffs. “What’s her deal? She’s just, like-”

“A princess,” Peeta fills. “A princess of lust.”

“Oh don’t take that to heart,” Haymitch dismissed them both before turning to Katniss. “But you, you better behave. They’re your most valuable allies, Katniss. If they she wants Finnick to fuck her in front of you, let them fuck. If she wants Peeta to fuck her, let him. She’s the Princess of Panem, for fucks sake!” His voice got louder, but he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. “Her sex epitome is an act in some cases. Her and Finnick have gone through things that you are lucky you didn’t.”

Katniss scoffs. “Like what?”

Haymitch pauses, but glares at her. “You will have to speak about it with them. Now, come on, you have some other people to meet.”

You and Finnick, on the other hand, did go to fuck. Your greatest source of shared trauma became your coping skill, and even with how toxic and horrible and down right bad it was, there was nothing you both enjoyed more.

You very well could’ve been obsessed with Finnick, and him with you, but neither of you cared how unhealthy it was- you needed each other like a person needed oxygen, and without the other, you would surely go insane.

You laid on top of Finnick, kissing at his neck as his hand drew patterns along your back. “Do you think I was-”

“They’ll see the true you when the time comes,” he whispers, smiling at you. “And when they do, they’ll love you even more. I swear it.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips before someone knocked. You pull away, snuggling into his chest as he yells ‘come in’, Cinna walking in with a smile. “They’re ready and they’re perfect. Interviews are in two hours, are you both ready to get dressed?”

You hum, throwing your hair back as Finnick’s hips buck uncontrollably. “One more round, Cinna.”

He laughs. “Okay. I’m coming back in ten minutes!”

You giggled, squealing as Finnick pushed you over, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Make it fifteen!”

When the door closes, Finnick wastes no time thrusting deeper inside of you, your eyes rolling back as you claw against the sheets. “Fuck, fuck Finnick!”

“You’re a fucking whore, asking for another round,” he basically growled as your mouth lets out loud moans, his form leaning forward to ram his cock into you at a new angle. “You knew I wouldn’t say no, didn’t you? You knew that I was going to fuck you, over and over and over.”

You nodded mindlessly, groaning into his mouth. “Yes! Yes, Finnick, I want you to fuck me. I don’t want you to stop fucking me, fuck, fuck!”

“You’re a fucking, whore,” he grunts, fingers pushing down to press into your cunt with his fingers. Your eyes roll back as his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit as his fingers curl inside of you, his cock still pounding into you like a jackhammer. You were so full of pleasure, the moans you previously held back now coming out in full force, cumming on accident with a scream as his thumb pressed on your puffy clit. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You screamed out as he pulled out of you, pulling your ankles from his shoulders as he flipped you around, forcing your face into the pillows as he pushed into you again. “You’re going to cum without my permission? Without telling me? No, not on my watch. I’m going to fuck you until Cinna comes in and you’re not going to cum until that final second ticks.”

“Yes! Yes Fin, fuck!” You wailed as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning loudly as his cock pushed into you before being pulled out and fucked right back into you.

“You’re such a good whore, darling. A perfect cum rag for me to fuck and fill, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes Fin, I’m just here to hold your cum.” You say, groaning as his hips move faster, body bouncing on the bed and your clit rubbing against the silk sheets. How were you going to be able to not cum when he was fucking you so good?

You don’t even notice you were clenching until Finnick says something, his other hand pushing between your clit and the blanket. “You’re clenching around my cock, darling. If you cum, I’m going to fuck you on live TV. Gonna fill you up in front of Caesar’s stupid fucking face. You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

His hand forced you to nod, tugging at the roots of your hair as drool ran down the side of your mouth. “Speak.”

“Yes! Yes, Fin, I’d love it, just as long as you fuck me! I promise Fin, I’ll be good!”

“Being good is not cumming until those fifteen minutes are up,” he snarls into your ear, slapping your pussy with a firm hand as he forces you on your knees. “You’re not going to listen to me, darling? That’s a bad girl, not a good girl.”

You shake your head, eager to please. “No Fin, I’ll be a good girl, I swear! I want your cum, I want to be your perfect little cum slut, please!”

He paused, his hand moving slowly as he kissed your shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t do rough right now. Can you please just-”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Fin,” you say, turning your head enough to kiss his cheek. “Why don’t I make you cum and we get dressed, sounds good?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t need to finish, darling-”

“Do you want to finish?”

He paused, but nodded. His hips move slowly as you intertwine your hands together, kissing his neck softly as you groan into his skin. “Fuck, Fin, you feel so good.”

“You too, darling, holy shit.”

It doesn’t take him long to cum, his seed painting your insides white as he collapses on top of you, kissing your spine. “I can’t wait to marry you, Princess.”

You giggle, looking back. For a minute, you forgot you could die in the next week. “I can’t wait to marry you, my prince.”

When you both stood at the interviews, you were nervous. Finnick went first, and you watched as he spoke with Caesar effortlessly like he didn’t tell you he would fuck you on live TV earlier. The thought made you smile.

“So, after interviewing some of the other potential tributes from District 4, we got about the same answer for what you and our princess did the night the Third Quarter Quell was announced,” he starts to laugh, leaning forward to pretend to whisper. “Did you and Y/N have some… fun?”

Finnick laughs. “Yeah, Y/N and I did have some fun,” he looks over at you, winking. “But then again, when do we not?”

As much as you hated these fake personas, you couldn’t help but love it on Finnick. You loved the way he absolutely radiated confidence, especially when he spoke about you.

Caesar laughs. “My, Finnick, how forward you are! You and Y/N have always been-”

“Very open about our relationship?” Finnick filled in, smiling. “Yes, our relationship is not only our pride but-”

The crowd chants. “The Pride of Panem!”

“Oh, you are! You both are,” Caesar gets closer. “But should we be careful about letting our children watch the games, Finnick?”

You wanted to scream. Children shouldn’t even be watching the games anyways, but still, Finnick plays along. He grins, flexing his finger at Caesar to bring him closer, the mic as well. “We’ll have a safe word, Caesar. I’ll say it so that the children can leave.”

“Oh, my my! Behave yourself, Finnick, there’s children watching!” He continues to laugh before placing a hand on Finnick’s wrist. “Now, I was told you and Y/N have a bit of a… surprise for us.”

He smiled. “Oh, yes, we do. Y/N and I, we’re…” he looks over at you, exhaling. “We have two surprises.”

Two? What were your two surprises? You knew one was your wedding, but the other?

“Oh? Who doesn’t love surprises?! Now, everyone wants to know, Finnick,” the camera zooms in, Caesar’s perfect teeth smiling almost scarily. “What’s your surprise?”

“Y/N and I are getting married,” he says, cheers erupting from the crowd. “Tomorrow evening. We invite all that are able to come to celebrate with us, our only request is that you wear black,” he smiles. “The only people wearing white will be myself and my bride, as this is the happiest day of our lives.”

Caesar laughs. “Oh, how exciting! I am so excited for you, Finnick, where are the rings?!”

Finnick shook his head. “The rings are still being designed, you will see them tomorrow evening. My second surprise, though,” he looks back at you, smiling. “Is from Y/N.”

Your face scrunched. What was he doing?

“Oh? And what does the Princess of Panem have to say?” He pushed the mic closer.

“She’s with child,” Finnick starts to grin. “My child.”

You gasped, covering your mouth as the crowd went silent. Finnick’s eyes snap to yours, the smile on his face calming all your nerves until the crowd starts to boo. Your heart rate spikes, your breathing getting faster until you hear the words they say. “Stop the games! Our Princess and Prince need to see their baby!”

You exhaled shakily as Caesar laughed awkwardly. “Well, Finnick, I hope you have a great wedding tomorrow and I hope to see you there.”

“Well I’ll certainly be there, Caesar, and I hope you attend.”

He announced Finnick’s name and district before he left the stage, a large bubble filling your chest. Your head began to pound with every beat of your heart, fingernails digging so deep into your palms that you drew blood. You tried to focus on your breathing like Finnick had taught you, but nothing worked.

“Y/N, Y/N darling,” Finnick spoke, holding your cheeks. “Look at me, hey. Only a few more hours, darling, just a few more. I promise you, love.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply with him as he stroked your hair. Your eyes begin to water, but he quickly pats your cheek. “Hey, we don’t want to ruin Cinna’s makeup, do we?” As much as his tone was light and playful, it was much more serious and you both knew it.

“I'm scared, Finnick,” you whisper, inhaling shakily. “I don’t want to go out there.”

“Y/N, where are you, my princess?!” Caesar’s voice was loud, slightly worried before Finnick pressed a kiss to your painted lips. His thumb smudged the lipstick slightly, just enough to take some pigment off but still make you look perfect. “Go, darling, I’ll be right here.”

It takes him shoving you softly for you to go out, a smooth smile immediately gracing your features as Caesar ran to you. You hide your shaking hands in your dress, but Caesar kneels in front of you and offers his hand. You giggled, outstretching your arm for him to take your hand. You quickly fix your face as he kisses the back, holding back a grimace as he looks up at you. “My princess.”

You curtsy, cheers erupting from the crowd as he led you to the main platform. Your dress cascaded behind you, long pale blue that was almost white, a nod to your wedding dress that you were going to wear the next night. He held your hands high as you sat down, announcing the words, “Y/N, the Princess of Panem!”

You close your eyes as the cheers get louder than you’ve ever heard, letting your hand slowly fall to your lap as Caesar lets go. When you open them, you tilt your head back, blinking back tears with a slight sniffle.

“Y/N, darling,” Caesar switched to the mic on his collar, reaching for your hand again with a sigh. “We truly feel for you.”

No he didn’t, none of them did. Even if you were pregnant, none of them understood, none of them felt what you felt. “I’m sure you could try,” you say, sobbing erupting from the dramatics of the crowd.

Maybe there were some true feelings behind Caesar’s eyes, but you didn’t see it. “When you volunteered for Mags, did you know?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t. Finnick and I have been attempting to have a family since we ended our show,” you inhaled shakily. It wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t, but even then, it was horrible. You very well could’ve been truly pregnant from the mornings you were waking up sick, but you fooled yourself into thinking it was just the nervousness of getting out back into the games. “It has to stick when we’re going to die, right?”

Caesar shook his head, his eyes watering as he squeezed your hand. “You… you should not say that,” he whispers, sighing. “You do not think you can win?”

You laughed. “Caesar, the Princess of Panem never loses,” your fake joy comes back as the crowd cheered, but then it turned into boos. “But I would love to think of names for my future child without the fear of dying.”

“One final question, Y/N,” Caesar says as the crowd quiets down. “If you would have known… would you have still volunteered for Mags?”

You smiled. “Caesar, no matter how much I want this child, if they’re not born yet, I want Finnick more. Forever and always. If Finnick goes somewhere, I'm with him,” you look back, inhaling deeply when you see his piercing cerulean toned eyes staring at you. “Until death do we part,” you raise your left hand to him, his own doing the same. “And when we meet in our next life.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪 𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪 𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪

next part will be uploaded this Sunday! (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.14.23)

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! I love getting y'alls feedback :)

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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Holy shittt that capitol girl blurb??? That was something else 😵 can you pls make a part 2 of it but like a oneshot of it where he gets jealous of one of those lowly capitol people takling to us and he takes us to his room and then smutty smut happens??? Your dark!finn fics make me feral😩

oooh, i like your brain, captiol girl reader is a fav of mine! but ngl this gives off coryo vibes too.

i was listening to ride…

love you best,, coriolanus snow/finnick odair

can be read as either!!! no specifics i think

tw: kind angry sex, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, semi-public, implied short reader, size kink, humiliation, kinda guilt-tripping, degradation, mirror, flashback punishments, mentions of purposeful starvation, spanking, overstimulation, toys 👀 double pen, im so sorry i don’t know what possessed me

if there was one thing you knew about your partner it was his short temper when it came to you. obviously he didn’t show it all that often but you were one of the few people who could tell. whether it be by his grip on the champagne flute, the rigid posture, or, his unsettling smile. but it was obviously normal to everyone else, all they could think of was the fact that the legend himself was smiling their way.

he hated them in all honesty, but he wasn’t an idiot so he tolerated them.

but eventually every man breaks, and this time it was because of you.

an ugly, loud, grimy businessman had taken interest in you, his girl. he flashed his pearly whites your way every chance he got, brushing his hand by your waist in order to grab a drink, even has the audacity to actually touch you, bring the strap of your dress back up.

“sweetheart,” your partner beckoned you from up the stairs, your saving grace from the man. “come along now.” his grin was sinister and mischievous and you could only guess at what he was thinking of. excusing yourself from his side you made your way up the stairs, his eyes lingering on your behind. that man was lucky your boyfriend didn’t jam his fist in his face.

and before you knew it, the two of you were far from the party, on the third or fourth floor. “what are we doing here?” your voice was quiet, too focused on your surroundings rather than the man behind you, and how hungry he looked. turning to view him you were met with a hand around your throat. “what do you think you’re doing?” his one hand practically encircling your neck, your two hands pawed at his wrist to no avail.

“n—nothing.” you croaked out, watery eyes meeting his own dark irises, they seemed to be consumed with fire, and you knew your were bound to be burned. “are you trying to fuck with me? everyone here knows who you are here with but you’re acting like a whore, do you even know that man’s name?” you shook your head as a smirk made its way to his face, his voice was hot in your ear, “i think you need to be taught a lesson.”

he made you feel small in every way possible, whether it be guiding you through a crowd, or a hand on your hips moving you to the side. or, cornering you when you decided to be a brat, especially during the start of your ‘relationship.’

one of the most prominent examples being when you’d once refused to eat, besides a snack here and there and some water. the servants didn’t know what to do and your boyfriend hadn’t returned, busy with work. so when he did return and learned of your temper tantrum, he tied you down, taking orgasm after orgasm, one for each day you hadn’t eaten. it was the worst and best night of your life, your own ass was bruised and bloodied.

he’d struck you for every hour you refused.

he had his head between your legs, lips on your clit, licking it whilst two fingers pushed in and out, grazing just the right spot, making you arch your back and claw at the mirror. removing his fingers, his tongue traced your folds, saliva mixing in as he moved to your slit, and the inside of your walls. but it was never easy with your boyfriend, and he hated the fact that you looked so pretty. moans sweet as ever, hands pulling at his hair softly.

no, he liked you best at your worst.

so instead of letting you catch your breathe, he took off his tie and bound your wrists behind your back, your circulation practically cut off. you had nothing to grab, to hold, to ground yourself with, all you could do was sit and cry as he sucked your clit harshly, fingernails digging into your thighs as a warning.

stop moving.

again, horrible listener, so you thrashed around, lifting yourself up from against the mirror before being pushed back by him. your eyes were screwed shut as you heaved, “please, please i didn’t do anything!” his eyes shot up to look at your face in disbelief. “you did nothing?” he sneered, rising from in between your legs before his hand clutched your hair as you yelped.

“you want attention, that’s all you ever want. you have legs you could’ve walked away and come to me but you stood there, laughing at his jokes.” his fingers smooshed your face, he loved you best like this. messy hair, mascara smudged and lipstick smeared. for once you were unable to read him, you couldn’t tell if he was joking, mad or teasing. he got down on his knees, tapping your foot as you raised it, your panties removed as he stored it away in his pant pocket. your thighs were painted with arousal, sticky when you moved.

the click of the door opening sobered you up straight away, “what? why are you—” he shoved you infront of him, not even bothering to check if the coast was clear, he assumed there wouldn’t be anyone, you were floors above the party and the only people that would be around these disgustingly sensual rooms would be there for the reason he was. crimson red walls, plush velvet walls, a monstrosity in terms of a fashionable home, but comfortable.

you ended up in a random bedroom, also red. he shoved you onto the bed, shuffling through the drawers with intent. “where would it be?” he muttered to himself as he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on a closet door, promptly moving towards it.

you laid on the bed with your hands underneath you, at least the ceiling was white you thought. the heat between your legs was unbearable, but not left unattended for too long. he had a box in his hands, not too large but not small. “what is that?” you craned your neck to look, but he pulled out a blindfold.

“i want you to only cum when i tell you to, do you understand?” you groaned loudly, “oh come on are you kidding me? why the hell do i have to do that? so annoying—” the dildo penetrated your dripping pussy as you moaned out, finally.

he couldn’t do everything he would have wanted to whilst still at the event but he could at least satisfy himself. he slid in and out with ease, unrelenting pace as you cried out, “don't stop, please don't stop!" he loved you best like this, crying on his fat cock splitting you open.

“you like that? yeah you do.” he grinned as you clutched the sheets underneath you, he pushed it deeper, before taking it out. “please, don’t stop!” you screamed out, the anticipation of what he’d do was exciting, unable to see him. his finger simultaneously traced around your ass, using your slick he smeared it around.

“you want more? you want my cock in you too?” you nodded vehemently, “oh god yes! yes!” he pulled it out before flipping you over and propping you on all fours. he was nice enough to be sweet, cooing and praising you for how good you were being. “you’ll be good for me won’t you? i’ll take your bind off.” thank god, “yes, i’ll be so good, promise.” it felt so good to move them around again. the thing about your boyfriend was that he never made anything easy when it came to sex.

“i want you to fuck yourself.”

his hand on your hips and your own pressed against the headboard. “that's it, fucking take it!" he grunted as he thrust into you, “yeah, you wanna scream? confirm what they know?” you could barely keep your own eyes open let alone respond but of course he would never let that be. you’d never experienced something so euphoric yet punishing. you felt as if you’d explode. he’d gotten tired of how slow you were being with your pussy so he was kind enough to multitask.

but listening wasn’t exactly your strong suit and it didn’t matter how harsh he gripped your hips or how he slammed into both holes, you’d still try and get away. “s’too much, please.” your head rested on the bed, you were exhausted.

“fuck, i’m so close!”

“you’re lucky i’m letting you after the shit you— you pulled.” his words didn’t hurt, your pussy only clenched further, “i can feel you, in both holes.” your forehead pressed against his, a gentle gesture, a reminder of your relationship. he grunted into your ear, thrusts slowing down, messier, closer.

he pulled it out of your ass as you moaned at the loss of contact, “messy girl, need two cocks in you? my little slut needs more?” you shook your head, “just you. just you.” you babbled, you felt so good. oversensitive and tired, which again he loved. he pulled almost all the way out, pressing the fake cock to your lips, “suck it, you’re too noisy baby, you want someone to find you like this? i didn’t lock the door.”

his smirk made you dizzy, he made you dizzy. he took a second to admire you, splayed out on the bed now, sucking both of your juices off it. he slammed back in making you whimper and teary-eyed. soon enough reaching his high as well as your own as you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, “mmm!” he grunted, “fuck, you’re too good, take it the whole way baby, if you’re— if you’re gonna suck it then take it all.” he found his release with you, his hot cum spurting into your womb.

“next time, you stay by me. or don’t, i’ll fuck you even harder next time.”

#hunger games x reader #finnick odair x reader #kiraanswers<3 #kira and anon chat <3 #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x female reader #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #finnick odair x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow smut

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 month

Text

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants.

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked…

Wow.

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks.

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol.

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!”

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell.

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge.

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up.

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration.

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird.

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other.

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty.

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless.

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row.

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.”

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day.

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble.

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—"

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt.

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head.

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill.

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.”

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you.

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out.

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face.

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you.

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job.

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk.

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x fem!reader #sam claflin #the hunger games #mockingjay #catching fire #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair drabble #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you

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coryosbaby · 1 year

Text

Camera Ready ✧･ﾟ: Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: Neither of you really care if anyone sees.

Warning: exhibitism, voyeurism, p n v, riding, they fuck in the arena while it’s being televised, spit kink, size kink, creampie, switch ! Finnick, switch! Reader

⭒

“You know you could walk a little slower, sweetness. ”

Finnick’s voice blares out teasingly into the morning air as he trails behind you. Your hair sticks to your forehead in sweaty strands, your body on high alert as you make sure to scope out any remaining candidates that aren’t on your side. Which isn’t much, considering you have Katniss and the others, but it’s still a good idea to be cautious. To your relief you had found Finnick in the woods last night. And as much of a victor as you are, the dark makes you nervous. So he had allowed you to sleep beside him, curled up with his arms wrapped around you. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but when he sleeps it seems that he tends to get handsy. And when the warmth of his body was beside you, you couldn’t resist letting him throw you into his embrace.

“Maybe you could walk a little faster, pretty boy.”

He chuckles at the nickname, his pace finally catching up with you so you can see the cocky smile on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Your friendship is like this, a lot. Flirtation, playful banter, and a few hook ups every now and then since the two of you met at a capital event one year. And now, even when you’re supposed to be enemies, you’re working together. It’s just a connection, an order that makes you both flow freely with each other and get the things you desire.

You ignore the way Finnick’s hands ignite flames on your skin and the way his smile makes your heart flourish. You also ignore the way you feel the constant need to protect him and keep him alive. In this game, you can’t have anything serious.

“Mm..” you reply. “Sometimes.”

Your hands wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. He smiles, that pretty crooked smile, and presses a kiss to your temple.

And then, you hear a snap.

You and Finnick are both on high alert then, and turning around you’re both faced with a victor. Not an ally, it seems, as she’s pointing a knife at the both of you.

It doesn’t take long before she’s dead, but it’s still a bother to you. You don’t like murdering these people, and you’ve never liked the whole idea or subject of the hunger games. The first time you had won, but at what cost when they’ve sent you right back in?

It’s kill or be killed. And as the woman’s blood splatters on your face, you sense that familiar feeling of rage from the first time you killed creeping back into your psyche. That rage that loathes the capital, loathes those stupid fucking districts as they fall into the ground. And your knife doesn’t stop the assault on her as you make sure she’s dead. It’s better, this way, to overdo it so they don’t have to suffer. Finnick is surprised at your strength and skill, he always has been, but he finds it best not to bring it to attention.

As you two walk away, the woods begins to clear. And then you both watch as you see the Arena come into view, dark and blood soaked.

“Great,” you mutter. “More to show the people.”

It’s obvious that everything is being recorded, but this is the most clear spot. As you sit down on one of the rock formations, your lean back to watch the clouds and the orange sunset. Finnick sits beside you, his neck and chest splattered with blood. And after a moment, you begin to speak.

“I don’t like doing this.” You state. “It’s all bullshit. It’s psychotic.”

Finnick nods in agreement, his jaw clenched as he watches the stains on your shirt.

“We should give them a show.” He says. “Do something that we know they can’t get away from.”

And that’s when you get the idea.

You look at him, a mere glance. You’re both probably sweaty and disgusting, but even now Finnick looks absolutely god like. You know he’s chiseled, under that gray suit. And you know what big thing lies underneath the crotch of his underwear.

You smile, your hand coming to rest gently on his muscled thigh. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he watches your palm begin to move up more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. He doesn’t seem completely against the idea, though. Because then that cocky smirk you know so good and well is plastered onto his face, his hands finding there way to the exposed skin of your shoulder. He leans over and kisses your collarbone, gently. You huff, your lips moving to graze the spot below his ear.

“If they want them a show, let’s give them a show.”

Seeming to be on the same page, Finnick crashes his lips into yours in a bruising kiss.

Meanwhile, at the capital, the monitors in the room begin to awkwardly watch as you push Finnick down onto the rocky arm. His back hits the floor with a grunt, and then he’s watching as you sit up and unzip the back of your suit. He groans when your tits are revealed to them, full and sitting in all their glory. He brings his hands up and gropes one in his hand, feels the soft skin and your pert nipples being brought to attention. You tut when he tries to move his fingers down to your pussy.

“No, Finn.” You coo. Your nails scratch his addam’s apple, and he flushes as you begin to climb on top of him. “No touching there until I say.”

He groans when you press down against his growing bulge.

“You know if we don’t hurry we could die, right?” He huffs.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, baby. We both know fucking me again is the last thing you want to do before you go.”

He can’t deny that, and as you demand that he lift himself up and unzip his suit down to his thighs, he follows your directions with desperation. You watch as you pull his briefs down below his balls, watch as his girthy length springs to full attention. He moans when your hand connects to his skin, and begins to jerk him off with vigor. You can feel a tension in the air, the feeling of being watched extremely prominent. And it shouldn’t get you so wet, but it does. So you bring yourself to eye level with Finnick’s cock, and spit down on him, quick to shove his tip into the warm confines of your mouth. He makes a deep sound in his throat, and you move away teasingly when his hips try and move his cock farther into your throat.

“C’mon, sugar.” He says, overwhelmed. “Don’t be mean.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and do what I say, Odair?” You demand. You slap his cock, and he groans, legs beginning to tremble at the pain and pleasure mixing. “Besides, I’m not letting you use my mouth right now. I just needed to get you wet.”

He whines in protest when you pull away from him. But then you’re pushing your suit down, past your calfs and onto the ground.

So help you, if you’re going to die it’s going to be like this.

When your pussy is revealed to him, Finnick’s cock jumps and he sits up to guide you to his lap. He’s warm, his cock drooling and messy. You don’t hesitate to rub his tip against your clit, your thighs holding his lean body down.

“Please, y/n, fuck!” Finnick stutters, the feeling of your wet silky cunt making him go crazy.

You smile as you finally guide him to your entrance, and sink down. His cock fills you up to impossible levels, his balls pressed flush against you when he finally bottoms out. His hands go to your waist, and when you bounce on him, his eyes roll back and he cries out like a bitch in heat.

“Jesus Christ.. you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Love your pussy so much.”

“I know, sweet boy.” You moan when he grazes a soft spot inside you. “It f-feels good, doesn’t it? My little pussy feel good around that big cock?”

“God, yes. Cmon, ride me harder, momma. I know you can.”

And when you begin to fuck him faster, he brings his hands down to your ass, and begins bucking up into you with a feral pace. Your arousal makes him keen, makes his brain turn to mush the moment your scent hits him. You look so beautiful, so flushed and perfect, and something snaps inside of Finnick, then. His fingers spread your cheeks apart, and his voice is raw.

“Bet you like this, huh? The whole capital watching you get fuckin’ destroyed by my big cock? Hm?”

You gasp at his words, your fingers clawing at his chest.

“Finn, baby, fuck!”

“You love it, don’t you?”

No reply. Finnick slaps your ass harshly, and you yelp at the sting. His hands grab your throat in a harsh grip.

“Answer me!” He demands. You cry out, trying to nod the best you can, and then uttering out a “Yes! Yes sir!” As his large hands cut off your air supply.

“That’s my fuckin girl.” He replies. His fingers rub your clit, leaving your throat as you gasp for air and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy gushes all over him, soaking his cock and balls and the rock below the both of you, and without warning Finnick is grabbing your hips with his large hands and turning you over so you’re beneath him. It’s quick, and you’re incredibly surprised. You wrap your legs around him as he begins to pummel you, now with more leverage and strength, and his cock feels like it’s destroying you from the inside out. You don’t complain, though. And when Finnick’s hips begin stuttering, you know he’s about to cum.

“C’mon, baby, cum inside me, cum in my pussy!”

Your words spur him on, makes him leave bruising marks on your wrists as he holds them above your head and begins to cum in thick, messy ropes. Your walls practically milk him of everything he’s got, and when he’s done you can feel the stickiness of his seed dripping off his cock and onto your thighs.

He buries his face in your neck, then. And with a small laugh, he pulls himself out and begins to lick his cum out of you. Your middle finger comes up into the air as he does it. A sign, as the victor from district 4 eats your pussy. A big ‘fuck you’ to the capital.

The cameramen and people at home watch in shock and awe. There’s a debate of whether or not they should turn it off, and after a while everyone becomes too distracted by the images on screen to worry about it. The next day, none of the other tributes look at you both the same.

Because at that time, they had been watching, too.

@emsbookcase

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destourtereaux · 2 years

Text

home is a person - finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

summary: Y/N and finnick have been best friends since birth. when both your names are drawn for the third quarter quell, you must figure out a way to survive, or if it comes down to it, for finnick to survive.

wc: 2.4k | see request details here.

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GIF by @thranduilsperkybutt

a/n: kinda inspired by my dear olive (@retvenkos) bc she is just a superb writer for SO many fandoms. how do we even compare?

Some people believe in soulmates. Others don’t. But you? You had already found yours: goodness in the shape of a human named Finnick Odair.

The two of you had been friends since you were born and Finnick was two. Your mothers had been the best of friends and it had simply passed onto your generation. You and Finnick had grown up together, standing by each other through thick and thin. His sarcasm was never lost on you, and your wit made him every time.

When Finnick had to go to the Games, you were hysterical – screaming and sobbing, kicking and punching at the Peacekeeper who had to come escort you out of the crowd. And when he came back, you thought the worst had passed, that everything would go back to normal again, and it had… but only for 5 years. Then your name had been drawn, and Finnick had hugged you so tight it took three Peacekeepers to pry him away.

But you had survived too – emerged victorious. But at night, the memories came back. Endless nightmares that plagued your sleep, refusing to let you rest as the screams of those you killed tormented you. The only thing that helped was the weight and warmth of Finnick’s arms – almost like a shield against your trauma. He understood you wordlessly, and it had always been like that. The two of you against the world.

A year after you returned from the Games, your friendship evolved into its final stage, and feelings that were originally completely platonic slowly morphed into butterflies in your stomach and blushes on your cheeks. And when Finnick had asked you to be his girlfriend, it felt like you could finally see the sun again, like the clouds were clearing up and you had been given something to live for. Until now.

You turned the TV off once the dreadful Capitol reporter had finished announcing the theme for Panem’s third Quarter Quell: a Hunger Games between victors. You were silent in your disbelief. Not once had you ever thought you would have to return to the arena, and so soon, too. You were barely twenty-one, and you had won the games when you were seventeen, just four short years ago, not even half a decade.

Your family turned around to face you, their eyes melancholy, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel much of anything to be honest. You should’ve known the Capitol wouldn’t let anyone escape their twisted little games.

Without a word, you ran outside, shoving open the door to your house. Finnick was already there, having hurried over as soon as he heard to check on you. When you saw him, you burst into tears, as if his very appearance had broken apart the dam holding back your fear. You collapsed onto him, shoulders wracked with your sobs.

“Y/N. Y/N. Look at me. It’s likely they won’t even pick us. Our District has a number of victors to choose from. Don’t be so scared, darling.”

He reaches a hand to your trembling cheek, wiping away the tears.

“But Fin… I can’t go back. I can’t- I just. And I can’t lose you either. Not an option.”

“I know, love, I know,” Finnick replies, as you nestle your head into the crook between his neck and shoulders. The two of you stay there for hours, as you cry yourself out and Finnick strokes your hair gently. “And remember,” Finnick whispers quietly so no one but you can hear, “I’ll always be with you. No matter what happens. You’re my forever.”

******

It was as though life thought you two had had it too good these past few years - and now you needed to pay it back in bad luck. Both yours and Finnick’s names had been drawn consecutively.

But even as you felt your world crashing down upon you, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing you and Finnick would still be together.

And you knew — if it came down to it, you would kill yourself so he would live.

******

The interviews were over, and you felt the shock reeling through you from the victors’ shared display of rebellion. You let go of the hand belonging to the tribute on your right with a solemn nod, but you grasped the one in your left hand even more tightly.

“Princess, I’m losing circulation here,” Finnick teased, earning a glare from you as you wrenched your hand from his grasp.

The young man chuckled at your displeasure, pulling you into his side and muffling your protests. “I’m kidding. Please hold my hand again — come on. You know I was kidding!”

If only moments like these could last forever.

******

You wondered why the gods were so cruel. The arena turned out to be a clear lake surrounded by woods, putting you and Finnick at a distinct advantage. At best, you would gain the jealousy and rage of other tributes, and at worst, it would end with the two of you, each unafraid to self sacrifice for the other.

At least you had allies — Katniss and Peeta, who reminded you a lot of yourself and Finnick, and Johanna. But even though the group of you were relying on each other at the moment, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that an alliance could only last so long in the Hunger Games.

Your combined sponsors had sent you five a number of gifts, including food, and a spout for water from the trees. You had to give Katniss credit for figuring that out — she had definitely saved your lives.

Day after day, you count the cannon booms, until there are only 10 tributes left. Beetee and Wiress had been adopted into your group, much to the distaste of Johanna. The seven of you had grown closer over your time together, you and Katniss especially. She felt like a little sister to you; an extremely independent and brave little sister. You two would often share stories about your district and your families. It helped a lot, being able to talk to someone who understood how you felt.

When you and Katniss had your talks by the beach, Finnick and Johanna were off on their own. He told you he was finding water, but you knew they were hiding something.

******

On Day 15, you could tell Finnick was nervous. His whole demeanour had changed. He went from a solid cornerstone to a ball of restless energy.

“What’s wrong, Fin?” you probed, “you need to tell me. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I love you, Y/N. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that. I love you too. But what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“It’s better if you know as little as possible. You’ll be safer. Trust me, love.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed, but you did trust him. That much had always been true.

For the rest of the morning, the alliance works together on building Beetee’s trap, hoping it would take care of the District 2 tributes.

Suddenly, a dagger whizzes past your year, forcing you to take a gulp of air as you dodge. Panting, you send a signal up into the air — meant to alert Beetee. But when nothing happens, you realize something has gone very, very wrong.

You send a spear soaring back to where the dagger had come from, slamming deep into a boulder. A scared Glimmer jumps out from behind and grins smugly at you.

With not a moment to spare, you sprint toward Beetee's hideout and spot him bleeding out on the forest floor, a red smile across his throat. You let out a scream — a mix of grief and rage. And that’s when it happens: an enormous explosion, red hot and booming, rocks the arena, and a hovercraft descends from the clouds like a gift from god.

I’m dead. They’re taking me to heaven, you think.

The last thing you remember is Finnick jumping into the hovercraft and pulling you up. You’re clawing at his arms, desperately trying to get on, before a pair of stronger arms yank down on your airborne legs, dragging you all the way down to hell.

******

And hell you entered. When you woke, gone were the scorching sun and shimmering waters of the arena. It was replaced by a glaring white room; even your clothes were pure white. You lifted yourself out of the hospital bed and made your way to the window on your left. There, in the neighbouring room, was Johanna, but she was almost unrecognisable. Her hair had been torn out in patches and her skin was a pale, ashy grey. You audibly gasped, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of your friend. It would be you next.

******

Finnick was beside himself with anguish. How could he have let you slip from his grasp like that? Slip right into the clutches of the demons from the Capitol. He clenched his fists so hard he drew blood, crescents of red on his palm that reminded him of his failures.

You were his person. You had been his since he was a tiny little toddler watching his mom coo over you in your mother’s arms. From then to now, the two of you had always been inseparable. He had protected you from the bullies at school and you had always taken good care of him when he didn’t care about himself.

He had let you down. Why had he been so focused on the stupid plan? Curse Haymitch. The world be damned. All that mattered was you. He should’ve saved you first.

The next day in the District 13 cafeteria, Finnick pushed his grey slop around in his bowl, avoiding eye contact with Katniss.

“Look up, Finnick. Now,” the girl suddenly commands, her voice the most authoritative he had ever heard.

He looks up instinctively, eyes catching on the TV screen. It was you. You and Peeta. You were in a white frock, legs crossed and an arm on your chair. Your lips were locked in a sickly fake smile as you delivered your message: “Katniss Everdeen. Finnick Odair. District 13 cannot and will not protect you for long.”

“Surrender, and you can still see the light of day,” Peeta adds, his words stilted, almost as though it pained him to speak.

As the screen began fading to black, a scuffle broke out. Your face, pale and frightened, gazed directly at the camera as you forced out a final message, “District 13. Here today, dead tomorrow.”

A crack was heard as you fell to the ground, and the signal cut off once and for all. Finnick was left staring at his own reflection in the dark screen, tears streaming down his cheeks.

President Snow, however, wasn’t affected by emotion, and she took your warning seriously. Ushering everyone down into the deeper floors, she shut the bunkers down completely and braced for impact.

By morning, more than 10 bombs had hit the District — each rattling the rooms. But Finnick paid all this no mind. He was too busy replaying your brief appearance on the TV. How skinny and sick you looked. The dark circles under your eyes were telling, and you looked so scared. It killed him. He didn’t deserve to live, while you died slowly by the day.

******

Every day for the next month, Finnick and Katniss got up early and knocked on the President’s door. He pleaded with them to please send a rescue team. To get you and Peeta and Johanna out of there. Out of hell.

On the last day of the month, the President agreed. “If this is what it takes for our little mockingbird to perform again, we’ll do it. But you’d better perform, Everdeen, once we save your little boyfriend.”

******

Both Finnick and Katniss were deemed unfit for the rescue team. Something about psychological and emotional instability. Finnick raged against this, but was drugged by a sheepish Gale. “We’ll be back before you know it, man. And your girl will wake you up.”

Finnick held onto those words like a dying man as he slipped under.

When he woke up, the compound was a mess of noise. Shouts came from everywhere. “Get the stretcher!” “Get me more of that endorphin!” and finally, “Y/N’s up. Someone! Go and find Finnick. Now.”

At this, Finnick jolted upright, jumping off of his bed. He rammed the door open and ran into a doctor coming to get him.

“Mr. Odair, I must warn you. Please don’t be so brash when you’re with her. Ms. Y/L/N has been through a lot this past month. You would do well not to alarm her.”

Finnick nods, breathless as he speeds up his pace. He turns a corner, then another, and there. He sees you at last. Your hair strewn across the pillow propping you up, a doctor examining your irises.

He stops out of shock for a second, before rushing to the door of the facility. The doctor accompanying him swipes a card to unlock the door, and within a second Finnick is at your side, down on both knees and cradling your hand.

You glance at him in surprise, before recognizing that it’s him. It’s your Finnick. He’s here, in the flesh.

“Fin? Is that really you?” you ask, in such a weak voice that makes Finnick want to sob.

“I’m here, darling. You’re safe now. We’ll never be apart again, my love. I guarantee it,” he chokes out, each word threatening to make him cry.

“Oh, Finny. I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy. I missed you so much,” you respond, in disbelief still.

The tears come silently this time, streaming slowly down your cheeks and falling into your hair. When Finnick sees this, he quickly gets up and embraces you, careful not to hurt you. Pulling back, he brushes your hair out of your face and wipes away your tears.

You’re reminded of a similar moment that happened just three months ago, although it seems like so much longer.

When Finnick places a gentle kiss on your forehead, you finally manage to process where you are. I’m home, you think. Because home, for you, is a person.

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