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darknight3904 · 5 months

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It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 7 months

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a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x reader

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

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

word count: 6.8k

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

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

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

For six whole months.

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

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

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

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

“Pretty cold out here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

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

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a virgin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your gaze remained on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

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

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay?” he asked.

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

“Okay, good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does it hurt?

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

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

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

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

“Fuck,” he breathed.

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

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

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

“Finnick,” you moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” you cried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He whispered, “Me too.”

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fantasybuff96 · 4 months

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I will never get over Gale’s stupid ass thinking that Finnick wanted Katniss at the beginning of Mockingjay, when the entire time that man was breaking down and longing for Annie. Like the whole reason Katniss and Finnick became close friends was their joined love and longing for Peeta and Annie who were both imprisoned in the capital together.

#stupid Gale #finnick odair #annie cresta #peeta x katniss #everlark #odesta #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #Gale is the worst #gale hawthorne #finnick x annie #peeta supremacy #finnick should have lived #friendship #love #bonds #mockingjay #THG

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waitimcomingtoo · 6 months

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous

Masterlist

“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.

“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.

“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.

“What?” You asked him.

“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.

“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.

“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.

“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.

“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.

“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.

“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.

“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”

“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”

“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.

“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.

“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”

“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.

“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”

“Definitely.”

“What do I do?” He whined.

“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.

“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.

“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.

“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”

“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”

“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.

“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.

“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.

“Are you?” You asked quietly.

“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.

“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.

“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.

When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.

“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.

“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.

“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.

“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.

“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”

“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.

“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”

“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.

“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.

“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”

“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”

“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”

“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.

“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.

“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.

“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.

“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”

“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”

“So you hate me now? All because I un-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.

“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.

“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.

“What did you do?” Effie asked him.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.

“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”

“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”

“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.

“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”

“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.

“I need to fix this.”

“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.

“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.

“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.

“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”

“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.

“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.

“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.

“What are you doing in here? Get out.”

“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.

“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.

“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.

“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”

“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.

“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”

“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.

“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.

“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.

“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.

“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.

“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.

“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.

“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”

“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.

“Me either.”

“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.

“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.

“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “

“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”

“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.

“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”

“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.

“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.

“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”

“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.

“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.

“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.

“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.

“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.

“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.

“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta x reader

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gogogodzilla · 6 months

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day 31, sex pollen

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, unprotected sex, fuck or die, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, reader gets sad at the end, multiple orgasms, dedicated to @omgbrcat hope you enjoy it bestie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast and wildly in your life. Well, except for last year when you were fighting for your life and running away from everything that was trying to kill you.

Peeta was a few steps behind you, slower and stumbling a bit due to his prosthetic leg. You threw a glance over your shoulder every few seconds, just to make sure he was still there with you.

The various leaves and foliage of the jungle hit you as you ran. You hardly even notice as the foliage shifts from a normal lush green to unnatural shades of pinks, purples, and blues. You did notice, however, when one of the plants shoots a dusty substance directly in your face as you run past it.

You lost your footing as you attempted to wipe the dust off your face. Peeta came up beside you, arms outstretched and ready to pick you up.

“Don’t!” you shouted as you slowly stood, slightly relieved that your face didn’t immediately burn off. “I don’t want it to affect you, whatever it is.”

Your ears strained as you tried to discern if the mutts were still on your tail.

“Do you hear them?” Peeta questioned, echoing your thoughts. “Y’know since you have a Capitol-engineered ear and all.”

You huffed out a laugh as you listened. You couldn’t hear the familiar rustle of leaves, and you relaxed slightly. You knew never to get too comfortable in the arena, but your lungs were burning and you needed to get this stuff off your face.

“Do you still have the spile?” you asked, attempting to avoid the way your body felt like it was on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Yeah,” he breathed, as he began to hammer it into the trunk of a nearby tree. You prayed that the trees wouldn’t be as hazardous as whatever was covering your face. You watched as he stuck a finger under the liquid flowing out of the spile, checking to make sure it was safe.

He wrapped his hand around your elbow and it felt like fire bloomed under his touch. He was gentle as always as he guided your face under the water. You dragged your hands over your face as you washed off the dusty substance that had covered it. You attempted to rid yourself of the inferno burning under your skin.

Your cheeks flushed as you pulled away from the stream of water. Peeta’s touch was fleeting but your entire body ached for him. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Your heartbeat pounded in your chest with every shaky breath you took. You hunched over, attempting to calm yourself. A thin sheen of sweat begins to cover your skin, and your eyebrows furrowed in something akin to pain.

You heard Peeta call your name, but the only thing you could get out was a whimper. He was on you within seconds, gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You scrambled out of his touch, thinking clearly enough to know that you needed to get away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, voice desperate and eyes frantically searching over your form. You hurriedly crawled away from him.

You shook your head, as you pressed your back against a tree. “I— I don’t know. I feel hot,” you breathed, conflicted between clenching your thighs together and spreading them for him.

Peeta kneeled in front of you, eyes soft, “How can I help?”

You remembered before you’d entered your first Games together how he didn’t want the Game to change him. You were thankful that he was still the same sweet boy you entered the arena with. He was different in some ways, of course. No one left the arena unscathed, but who he was at his core was unwavering.

Your vision was becoming hazy, and a dull ache where you’d never felt it before emerged. You let out a low groan as the heat blistering down to your bones becomes almost unbearable.

Peeta crawled between your legs and cupped your face. You hissed at his touch, leaning into him. You gripped onto his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh through his suit. His touch felt heavenly against your skin, a ravenous hunger for more filled you to the very brim.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Please, Peeta.”

He swiped a thumb across your cheek, and your grip on his tightened. You tugged him closer, your limbs seeming to move on their own. You made a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat.

Peeta’s lips were hesitant against yours as he kissed you. He was always so gentle with you, never wanting to cross a line. You moaned against him, and swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to taste him.

You wrapped your arms around his back and clawed at the zipper to his suit, tugging it down as much as you could. He sucked in a breath as you yanked his suit off of his shoulders, practically manhandling him. You were giving the Capitol exactly what they wanted, but you didn’t care.

The ache deep between your legs was growing with every moment, and your body temperature rose along with it. Your kisses increased in desperation until you were pleading against Peeta’s lips and writhing against him.

“It’s okay,” Peeta soothed, reaching behind you to unzip your suit. “I’ll help, it’s okay.”

You hurriedly peeled your suit off your shoulders, letting out a sigh as Peeta’s fingers trailed over the newly exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of your neck and your chest.

You ran your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, the feeling doing little to quell the electricity crackling under your skin. His tongue circled your nipple, eliciting a breathy whine from you.

You raked your hands through the hair at the nape of his tugged and tugged on the strands. A groan vibrated in his throat, and his hands splayed against your ribcage.

“Peeta,” you whined as he kneaded your other breast and you clenched your thighs around him.

You couldn’t stand not having him for a second longer and you hooked your arms under his, gripping him tightly as you rolled to the side. You landed on top of him, straddling him. You panted as you finally got a good look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and he was flushed and breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “Is it getting to you, too?”

He nodded, attempting to steady his breathing. You stood and shimmied out of your suit, tossing it to the side. You leaned down to hook your fingers into the waistband of Peeta’s suit and looked up at him through your lashes. The quick dip of his head was all you needed, and you were practically ripping his suit off of him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken off Peeta’s pants, but you flushed all the same. You were too focused on saving his life last time to worry about being embarrassed.

You were back on him faster than your hazy mind could process, your hips moving on their own accord as you ground against his thigh. His length pressed against your belly, warm and unbelievably hard, as you dragged your hips against him.

You reached down and stroked him in time with each rut of your hips. He let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh as you did. Your movements quickened, and you buried your face in the crook of Peeta’s neck. With each twist of your wrist around his cock, he was letting out noises that had heat pooling in your belly. His tip was leaking, and you loved the sound he made when you ran your thumb over it.

Peeta’s fingertips dug into the plush of your hips so hard you didn’t doubt that he’d leave bruises. The animalistic part of you that had taken control wanted him to mark you in every way possible. Your slick had begun to cover Peeta’s thigh, allowing you to easily grind against him.

Your strokes became more erratic as your pace against Peeta’s cock increased. You both were so wound tight you might burst. You’d never been so aware of your pulse pounding in your ears, and you came with a strangled cry. Tears coated your cheeks as warmth encased your entire being and you spasmed against Peeta. You had a moment of respite as you thought the plant’s effects had subsided, but the drive to ravish him returned with a vengeance.

He followed you off the precipice soon after you calmed down, back arched and head thrown back as his release covered your knuckles. The fog that surrounded your head cleared just enough for you to realize just how pretty Peeta looked like this. If you were going to die, you didn’t think you’d get a better view.

Your pace slowed but Peeta was still hard in your hand. The boiling heat still lingered under your skin, and your pulse quickened. You wondered if that was the Capitol’s goal; to make you so fucked out you succumb to exhaustion or burn you from the inside out.

Peeta looked utterly exhausted and a coil of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Just one more, please,” you begged, trailing kisses down his neck. He nodded against you, and you could’ve cried from the relief that washed over you.

You lifted your hips and aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance, gasping at the sensation. Peeta’s hips bucked up unconsciously, shoving himself deeper inside you. A pained hiss left you, and Peeta cried out a thousand apologies, his iron grip returning to your hips once more.

“I’m sorry. You’re just— Fuck… So— tight,” he babbled out, brown eyes glazing over. You pressed a featherlight kiss against his cheek, thoughts too consumed with his cock inside you to reassure him properly. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, sighing when your hips were finally flush. Peeta had his eyes screwed shut, gritting his jaw in thinly veiled restraint.

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the tree as you rode him, releasing little pants and moans with every thrust of your hips.

With each moment that passed your movements became more erratic, desperate to reach your peak once again. Peeta’s hands frantically roamed your body, grasping and kneading whatever inch of skin he could reach.

He reached a hand between the two of you and drew hurried circles around your clit. He lifted his hips to meet yours, jutting himself deeper inside you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, and you prayed you were the only ones trapped in this portion of the arena.

It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you clenched around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy, and for a moment you feared you’d pass out.

Peeta finished with a few more rolls of your hips against his. He filled you to the brim, his release hot and steady coated your walls.

Your vision cleared as you came down from your high. The fire within you had finally dissipated, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You felt exhaustion consume you as you slumped against Peeta.

“I’m sorry,” you slurred out, clinging onto Peeta like your life depended on it. Your face screwed up and you felt your throat tightening.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he rushed out, running his hands over your body, attempting to soothe you as quiet sobs wracked your body. Your last thought before drowsiness overtook you was of how much you didn’t deserve Peeta Mellark.

Your heart pounded as you awoke, adrenaline spiking as you heard someone calling your name. You jumped to your feet, eyes frantically searching your surroundings. Your movements caused Peeta to stir and his eyes shot open, the same panic gracing his features.

You tugged on your suit, grimacing at the dried cum that covered your inner thighs. You tossed Peeta his suit and pulled him to his feet. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, and the thought turned your stomach. Someone could’ve easily come along and killed you both.

You grabbed your weapon while Peeta removed the spile from the tree.

“Let’s just hope our sponsors enjoyed the show,” you joked, immediately cringing as soon as the words left your mouth.

The corners of Peeta’s mouth quirked up, “I’m sure they did.”

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