GUYS PLEASE IM BEGGING Do Not Request For Me To Write Any Prompts Or Scenarios That Are Exact To Another

GUYS PLEASE IM BEGGING do not request for me to write any prompts or scenarios that are exact to another fic that someone’s written😭 i have so much love for all of u but it actually makes me sick to my stomach when i read another fic and see that the idea that i wrote about is someone else’s like i HATE copying and would never ever do that !!

so, always- requests are open for u babes whenever you want, i will always get to them bc ur lil minds r so cute and smart- but i will not intentionally plagiarize if i know better before it’s a waste of my time because there’s an exact replica alr written and then i feel guilty after pouring my heart out into my work!! love u all kiss kiss

REQUESTS OPEN

.☘︎ ݁˖𐦍༘ ⋆₊⊹.

hi my smoochies i’m alive and well pls ignore my 5 month hiatus. my requests ARE OPEN!! i wanna write for more people so my character list is as follows and not in any particular order ;)

✧finnick odair

✧ jj maybank

✧ anakin skywalker

✧ bellamy blake

✧ peeta mellark

✧ alex turner

✧ paul atreides

✧ lorenzo zurzolo

✧ anyone! just request and im sure id write it

- missed u guys, kiss kiss

WINNERS PRIZE !

one

pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader

summary; tough love turns to rough luck, mentor!finnick cant help but worship you, and victor!reader can’t wait to have him.

contains; SMUT! mdni. minor choking kink idk, oral, f!recieving, penetration, dom!finnick, sub!reader, lmk if i missed anything.

you kiss him, pull him impossibly close to you until you can’t anymore- until your lungs now beg for oxygen- but all you want to do is breath him in. you pull away, and your eyes open, nearly in shock, but more in amusement.

“believe me now?”

it’s the way he purrs if, the way it’s echoing through your ears. it makes it so you can’t answer, you’re not sure you can even think. all you want is the feeling of his lips on yours again- but what you want is wrong.

your aching for him, and where it is, is wrong. so wrong, you shouldn’t have even kissed your mentor- you should feel dirty, ashamed. and he notices your shock. of course he does.

“what’s wrong?” to him your expression is unreadable, and he’s scared. are you going to scream at him? are you going to regret it all? did he overstep? your lips on his again quiets his mind, it soothes him.

you’re pulling him into you, and he thinks he’s in heaven. there’s no better feeling than your fingertips dancing around the back of he neck, your hand grasping onto his shoulder, your soft lips moving against him.

you pull him out of his thoughts, “finnick?”

and he hears his voice when he speaks, he hears his urgency to assist to you and only you in this moment. he could care less about himself. “what is it what’s wrong?” your faces are touching, he’s looking into your eyes as yours are down at his lips, scanning over every feature of his face.

“touch me.” you don’t say where, and you don’t care. you need to feel his hands on you, grabbing at you in desperation.

and that he does, without a moment to spare his hands are mapping you out. his mouth is feverishly back onto yours, a groan being muffled by your mouths on one another.

one of his hands is controlling your movements, resting on the middle of your back. the other only slightly below it, right before the curve of your bottom, his hands are hungry and so is his mouth- devouring you.

your bodies are pressed up against one another, and he squeezes your ass- surprising you. your hips rock forwards onto his and as if in-sync, you both moan out.

he’s tented onto your heat, thin dress making you all the more sensitive. every touch made you squirm, set your skin alight. and he noticed that, it drove him mad. thinking about how delicate you were now, only making him then realize the two of you were still standing.

he hoists you onto his hips, carrying you over to the queen sized bed, and placing you down as if it would break.

“is this okay?” he asks atop you, hand tracing your jawline, dropping at your chin and gently redirecting your face to his. you nod, and he tsks, “don’t go quite on my now sweetheart, need to hear your voice.”

you could cry, all you need is to have his touch on you and you would be fine. “please.”

that wasn’t good enough for him, you can see it on his face. “please what? what is it that you want baby?”

you don’t know what you want, anything. you just want him. “please touch me finnick.” your eyes flutter up to his and he thinks this is the purest picture of eroticism. he placed a soft kiss on to your lips until moving down the straps of your dress to kiss along your shoulders.

you take it upon yourself to disregard the dress from your body. besides the fact you couldn’t stand to be in it any longer, having already done your interview in it, you needed his skin on yours.

he kisses down your body, stopping once he reaches your black panties, matching your dress that is now long gone.

he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful, your looking down at him. he can see the rise and fall of your chest- your hardened nipples through your bra.

with no warning he pulls the fabric of your underwear aside, placing one kiss on the inside of your thigh, pulling your legs apart, its all so agonizingly slow.

finnick cages himself into you, your legs placed over his shoulders. and finally, his lips and tongue are blissfully on you. his hands hold your hips as you almost squirm away from his touch.

he’s not in a rush, he’s slow, precise, and calculated with what he’s doing. he’s stops his licking to suck onto your swollen clit and looks up at you. your lips puffy, head thrown back, and your gripping the sheets.

he has to resist his urge to pull away from his found heaven between your legs to attack your exposed neck, it’s tempting but he returns to flattening his tongue and striping into your hole.

you’re in a daze, you want to see him, but it all feels too good. “i need you inside of me.” it’s almost a sob, more like a beg.

and he tries not to move too hurriedly, pressing a kiss to your bundle of nerves one more before, rising up. his shirt is over his head and his pants are unbuckled and left to lay around the room in seconds.

you can almost see all of his length through his tented boxers, it’s frightening, exciting, and you’re eager.

his lips are on your neck, your back is arching off of the bed and all you can focus are his arms flexing as he holds himself up above you. “you’re my prize y/n.” one of his hands are playing with the seashell necklace you’ve forgotten to take off.

then his lips move onto yours, you can taste yourself through the kiss, it’s sickening how much you’re enjoying this all. “the sweetest fucking prize. you’re all that i want.” he speaks through kisses, your heart is fluttering- chest warm.

it must be too good to be true, you have the capitols darling above you, telling you how badly he needs you, not just in this moment- but in every other fleeting moment of his life he’s needed you.

you see the stain of pre-cum on his boxers, and it almost makes you feel prideful. prideful that with the very little you’d done to him- it’s driven him to this point. and shortly his boxers are coming off, and he’s looking into your eyes.

he almost gets lost in your eyes, “the most beautiful thing.” his hand is moving up your neck, stopping at the side of it. you blush and look away- his stare is almost undressing you more. if that was possibly, your dress and panties were already out of sight.

he redirects your face again, “look at me.” he’s lining himself up with you, “i want you to look at me when i show you how much you make me feel.” words weren’t his strong suit, but, show you is exactly what he did.

he looks into your eyes for any hint of doubt before he’s intruding you, he sighs out-nearly and you could’ve sworn you saw stars at that beautiful noise alone.

you don’t think you’ll last long and he doesn’t think he will either, you were so tight and he had been hard for so long. he was trying to get the most out of it, not race to the finish line.

once you’ve found a comfortable pace, his hand applies pressure to the side of your neck- now you were certainly seeing stars.

this makes everything feel all the more intense, the way his lustful eyes have not left yours, the way he’s rolling his hips into you, the sounds echoing from your room, his sinful praises.

your so very stimulated, wrapped up in the pleasure of it all your head turns into the pillow as you moan out his name. “fuck, do as you’re told, y/n.” and you do, like putty under his hold you turn to face him again.

“feels’ so good finnick. i want you inside of me” you cry out, and maybe it’s the way you’re moaning his name, maybe it’s the way he’s knowing how good he makes you feel, but he can’t help but think about how it should only ever be him who has you in this position.

all he wants to do after this is protect you, to never let you cry unless it’s in his arms, to only let you get to pent up and angry at him, he wants to be the only person who makes your world go round.

he’s close and you are too, he can’t help but kiss you as he feels himself nearing the edge of it all. you’re clenching around him in a way that makes his head spin, “come with me honey.”

his raspy tone, his pressure on your throat, the knot in your stomach- it’s so perfect, so beautiful.

you reach your climax right after he does- repeating his name like a chant.

“i’ve got you.” if you weren’t so enamored by his voice you wouldn’t have heard it.

once finnick has rolled onto his side, he pulls you ontop of him, kissing your shoulders, fingers kneading into the fat of your waist. your sure you’ve left the bed in ruins, but he doesn’t care.

all finnick cares about now is you, he doesn’t want anything to change, but he wants everything to change all at once.

he wants to tell you he loves you, but he doesn’t want to disturb the ride and fall of your chest. he wants to take you away from all the pain and suffering that will come your way, but he doesn’t want to leave this bed with you just yet.

“i’m sorry.” your words are muffled by his chest. he looks down at you, running a hand through your hair. his brows are furrowed, what could an angel like you ever apologize for? “for yelling at you. it’s not your fault, i was scared.”

he’s quiet, and you look up to face his eyes, you’re scared he’s in regret. that he’s trying to escape this moment, but you see the concern in his eyes, “there will never be a moment where i don’t look out for you ever again.” he wants to swear to you that you’ll never feel a second of pain but he can’t promise that.

-

masterlist

requests are open!!!

FEMALE ROBBERY !

pairing; finnick odair x dist4!victor!f!reader

summary; meeting finnick at your capitol victor party, he is nothing short of entranced.

contains; fluff! just pure fluff, innocent- sweet, comforting, brief mentions of forced prostitution but no detail.

a/n; i was lowkey turning into anakin skywalker when i started writing about how much reader hates sand but it adds personality ok…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you were shivering, teeth practically chattering. the wide doors that led to the back of the luxurious party-mansion were wide open. your dress offered little warmth and neither did the people around you- their arrogance and bright colors offered no heat, no coziness, no reminders of home.

your wearing a corset dress- low cut, your chest on great display, you feel like the short hemmed bottomed makes you out to flash everyone at this party.

your hair has braids scattered about- your original hair texture is long gone with the amount of heat styling they’ve done on it throughout your victory tour and interviews. bows adorn the ends of each small braid that lays on your now, flat- straight hair.

the meaningless conversation, and congratulations throughout this party is enough to drive you mad. you need air- oh-so cold but nonetheless you needed more air. you’re feet are moving past people- people who grab at you, yelling praises, trying to get a passing word with you.

but you’re mind is racing, you need to sit in silence and breath.

you find a garden- you don’t have enough greenery back in your district, more ocean, too much sand, too much heat.

the sand got everywhere. you couldn’t complain about the ocean- oh, how you loved the water. but once the sand got in your hair, your shoes, your towel, your clothes- it couldn’t get out. it seemed sand would never leave you alone- president snow reminded you all too much of sand.

it felt like an infirmary sentencing, a life estimation. once the words ‘capitols doll’ left his mouth, ‘desirable’, ‘young, sweet, and pretty’ you felt sick- you’d live your life in misery until another innocent tribute would come along and take all of the heat. but you’d always be in a hotel room, in the capitol, entertaining the people like a puppet on a string.

you don’t think you’ve been warm since you heard those words, you don’t think there’s been enough air- but now, in this garden, everything seems okay.

you sit on a bench, rose bushes surrounding you, a few flowers you can name but never seen- only in books.

your hands are in your lap now, fingers playing with one another- your deep breathes began to lower your blood pressure.

until you hear footsteps nearing on the cold- crunchy grass that’s been frozen over from the weather.

he’s tall- shirtless. what stylist would do that to someone in this nippy weather? but you think your stylist would send you off to these parties naked if he had no decency, too.

he’s finnick odair. even the wind flirting your eyes can recognize that. how couldnt you? the poster boy of your district, sex symbol of panem, but you don’t comprehend any of it.

“you’ve found my spot.” he’s smirking, you can understand why people in the capitol swoon over him- not even six seconds and your body rushes with warm blood.

then you process his words, slowly scrambling to grab your clutch and rising to your feet. he puts his hand up, signaling for you to halt your movements.

“it’s nice to have company.” and so you move your bag over , allowing him more room to sit on the bench.

you don’t speak, atleast you don’t know what to say- you don’t ask questions or say something stupid. finnicks voice breaks the thick barrier of silence; “nice party they gave you.”

he’s joking, and his slight laugh makes you laugh. you’d won nearly a month ago- many sleepless nights covered with makeup and fake eyelashes. “yeah, i’m so grateful for them all.” you breathily laugh off.

the playfulness of this all is refreshing. it almost makes you long forget about your grim past and even darker impending doom.

he turns his head towards you, scanning your face- then to the rose bushes surrounding the both of you- then back to your face. “too many roses every where, i’m starting to hate the smell of them.”

you pick up on his small talk, and you almost laugh a little- he’s acting like a grade-school boy. “i’m beginning to think it possibly the ugliest thing natures created now.”

“mags told me about how mentoring you went, we were all relieved when you won.” you wince when you think about that, he knows that better then anyone here. the heart sinking feeling when your brain slips up for a second- that you don’t let yourself think to hard about, nor too long.

“thanks.” he doesn’t even know you yet, but he know that even if you don’t speak too much the ones you do vocalize have meaning, no vacancy in them. “are you cold?” you can’t help but voice your curiosity.

he looks down on himself, almost as though his body brings him guilt in a way. like he’s ashamed to own it, you’re sure you’ll understand soon.

but within seconds his guard is back up, back to the capitol darling. he simply places your hand on his shoulder, he’s forcing your body to move but in the most genuine way anyone has ever done so.

you feel your cold finger tips merge with his radiant shoulder, like a hypothermic to a heater.

finnicks aura is simply heat, not a touch of coldness. you wonder if it’s his insides pouring into his physical being. does he not have any cold feelings in his heart? is he genuine? “how are you warm right now?”

he only laughs as you try to remove your hand from him in the least awkward way you can, placing your hands back into your lap. there’s so many things you want to ask him, tell him. his soul is like a confession booth, that you’ve heard before. all the secrets he knows, all of the words only he’s been told.

“does it get better? even if you’ve been told something that doesn’t make you think it will?” he can only imagine what your last words mean, and now his heart drops. no- not someone like you? so young so unsuspecting, but weren’t they all?

“if you have someone to lean on, you’ll be okay.”

you frown at this, despite your fear of making yourself seem like a complete and utter loser to the golden boy of panem- you say; “and if i don’t?” you can’t help but think about your overworked tired parents, never home, never cared too much. your friends who you don’t see all too much.

“if you don’t,” he looks up from his lap now, eyes locked onto yours, only your eyes ever- not your exposed chest or the dress that rides up your thighs. “you have me if you’re willing, i think we’ve gotten on well.”

this makes you smile to yourself, you can’t look into his eyes any longer you think you’ll get lost. you feel like a school girl, unable to breathe around the presence of your crush. “i don’t know you all that well, finnick odair.”

he shakes his head, “haven’t you read the news, y/n l/n?” he’s mimicking your words, almost in a sing-song way.

“i don’t tend to make premeditated decisions on who someone is based on what the capitol news says. i prefer to get to know them instead.”

“well, let’s get to know eachother then.” his body turns toward you. flattening his hands onto his lap. “favorite color?”

you look at the grass before you, the stems of the flowers around you, the feeble, poor excuses of barely full bushes that line the sand before the water in district four. “green, not a dark green. something in the middle.” your eyes flick back to his, almost the perfect green you were talking about. “and you?”

“blue.” his two fingers pick up the bows at the end of your hair, you almost roll your eyes at this. too charming you could laugh.

“what are you scared of?”

he thinks about this one, taking a moment to relay his thoughts. it wasn’t death, no. he wouldn’t be scared when his time came, he would just hope the people he loves would be okay, that they’d get through it without him.

“becoming one of them.” he nods his head back to the people scuffling about in frilly dresses and skirts around the main party center. “so moral-less, so demanding. so many things i don’t want to be.”

you shake your head now, “i don’t think you could ever be one of them.” to anyone else this would be an insult, being apart of the capitol was little girls and boys dreams. to live so lavishly and carefree. but once you’ve seen it all, you just want to be by the ocean- at peace, unbothered with those who meant the most to you. “you’re much too good for that.”

finnick believes you, it’s like all he’s needed his whole life was your words that had no hint of second meaning. only pure, true, clean. “if it means anything, i know you couldn’t be anyways. no matter how many bows they put in your hair.” he laughs again, that charming chuckle that sends a butterfly to your stomach. “you have a good heart, i hope that it stays that way.”

it’s all so honest , the whole interaction. but you’ve been away from your own party far too long and you’re almost scared to upset people. “i have to go. i’ll see you around, finnick.” his name is foreign to your tongue almost, but its welcome.

finnick then stands quickly, “when will i see you again?” he almost looks worried.

“soon. we live in the same village after all.”

-

inspired by my favorite, @mrsnancywheeler ‘s fic

masterlist

inbox open!

OMG what about a part 2 to “KNEW THE GAME & PLAYED IT ?” , where they’re now in district 13 and can actually be together but now she hates him and they have to work through it, like maybe him having to explain, etc.? 🥰

part two!

yalls idea are giving me a run for my money i swear. i wrote it a BIT differently but none the less- thank u for this and i hope u like it! kiss kiss.

hello babies!

i’ve been conjuring up a finnick series the last few days and i’m stuck on two plots…..

childhood bestfriends turned strangers turned lovers… (confusing, i know.)

orrrrr something more like strangers turned best friends turned lovers..

both are going to have so much angst as u can already expect from me but please lmk!

i expect this series to be around 10 chapters and around 10k words each one… lmk!

masterlist