THE FIRST TIME I LOOKED KINDNESS RIGHT IN HER FACE
pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader
desc: based on Megan's Song by Sophie Holohan
details: yearning peeta, blossoming relationship, no dialogue, peeta's pov
note: if you've seen this anywhere else, it's still mine i just don't have access to the account lol
They say eyes are the windows to the soul.
Put up blinds so mine would never show.
My mind couldn’t grow without the sunlight.
So afraid to bloom, thought it was day in the dead of mine.
Peeta Mellark didn’t know what love was. Real love. His parents may have been in love, once. But something changed and all he’d known was shouting and throwing things. At each other, and at him. He didn’t know what it was like to love someone like they were a breath of fresh air or how to see them and know your day was going to be okay. As a friend, or something more. It was foreign. And of course, love at first sight was something in the myths of old.
So he didn’t know what he felt when he saw Y/N take the stage at The Cellar back in July. His breathing changed and his face got warmer. He was suddenly aware of every movement he made. And, when the two of them had to head into the Games together, nothing changed. He was scared to talk to her. Partially because of those foreign feelings but also because she was just cool. So he didn’t. For the most part.
But you saw right through
Every wall at your feet
Didn’t know what to do
Without my fears protecting me.
Unfortunately for him, Y/N had a way of soaking into your body like a disease. A good one. She infected all parts of him. His thoughts were always of her and his body wanted to be near her all the time. She weasled her way into his mind and knocked down the walls he didn’t know were there. And it was terrifying
But with time,
I invited you inside.
Into the world that existed it my mind
And you treated it with light
And grace
The first time
I looked kindness right in her face
Over time, the two got closer and closer. They’d tell stories of District 12 and how much they missed it. But it took time for Peeta to open up fully about his family. He was scared to. It was embarrassing that he couldn’t stand up for himself.
When he did open up to her, she listened intently, like he was the only thing in this world. She reassured him that she was there and would always be there, no matter what. And that she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him ever again.
Peeta was convinced that she was kindness embodied. The way she was so kind and mature and gentle with everything that spilled out of him sometimes wanted to make him explode. She was perfect in his eyes.
It was a sign
There was more life
Left to see
Took me by surprise
You wanted to give your world to me
The two of them opened up even more to each other and embraced their pasts. They healed together. They weren’t lost or stuck anymore. When Y/N wanted to open up about how life in the Covey was, Peeta was there.
It was new. It was scary. But it was comfortable. Safe. Both of them knew that everything was told in confidence and was just theirs. Every moment was theirs.
Blink of the night
And I lost control
Every fear alive replaced
by the comfort of your soul
Not acting in my life
Not putting on a show
For the first time
I don’t have to try
To build someone
You’d want to know
For the first time in either of their lives, they weren’t performing. Y/N wasn’t on stage with Peeta. He wasn’t performing for the Capitol cameras. Not right now. This was theirs and it was real. It was perfect.
I freaking love your writing so super much i could literally just eat your words
By chance are you open to requests? 👀
If so
would you ever do Peeta Mellark drabbles? Or just some fluff w him? 😋
1 - eheh thank you so much!
2 - yes I am 100% open to requests (I just take forever to post stuff these days apparently!), yes I am open to Peeta requests, here is a fluffy peeta x reader drabble to prove it!
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(Please send all the Peeta requests, I don't write enough for him but I ADORE him)
Now that Panem is no longer in political ruin and there is no threat to your life, you manage to sleep a lot better. You are far from an early riser, but always thought that Peeta, whose arms you wake up in every morning, was the same. A rare early morning proved that this is not the case, much to your dismay. (Inspired by this request!)
577 words
Peeta Mellark x reader
No use of y/n, but second person perspective.
Warnings: Implied PTSD/anxiety. Just a short fluffy drabble xoxo
You roll over, still half asleep, but are struck by the emptiness of the other half of the bed. You sit bolt upright, heart beginning to race, but relax again once you hear a humming coming from downstairs. You rub your eyes and stretch, frowning at the empty space between you and the edge of the bed. It is extremely rare that you wake up alone these days, and to say that you are unimpressed is an understatement.
You roll out of bed and trudge downstairs. It must be early, you notice, as the sun is just barely beginning to rise. As you open the door to the kitchen, you can’t help the smile which tugs the corners of your lips upwards. Peeta is stood looking out of the window into the garden, his back to you, kneading dough and humming to himself. You stand for a moment and just watch him - how the muscles in his back flex beneath his t-shirt as his arms work the dough, how the sunlight catches his hair, how his voice is soft and content.
You take a step further into the kitchen, and Peeta startles, spinning around to face you, but relaxes just as quickly once he processes that it’s you. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, wiping flour off his hands onto his trousers before crossing the small kitchen and enveloping you in strong arms.
“Why weren’t you in bed?” You ask in response, resting your head on his chest and sighing as you relax into his embrace.
“I always get up before the sun, gorgeous. Where did you think your morning toast came from?” He laughs quietly, kissing the top of your head.
“I knew you made it.” You reply, frowning a little, “I guess I just hadn’t considered when. You’re usually in bed when I wake up.” You accuse, pouting up at him.
Peeta laughs again and pokes your bottom lip back to its usual position. “I come back to bed when the loaf is out of the oven. I always thought you knew.”
You frown again, and Peeta laughs. “Let me put this loaf in the oven and we’ll go back up to bed, hm?” He suggests, kissing the crease between your eyebrows.
You allow Peeta to turn away from you again as he lifts the dough into a dish and slips it into the oven. “I panicked when I woke up and you weren’t there.” You admit quietly whilst his back is still turned.
“Oh, gorgeous, I’m sorry.” He apologises, turning and pulling you back into him.
You inhale deeply, basking in the scent of him. You’re both safe now, you know that, but it’s easy to forget.
“Want me to start waking you before I come downstairs so you know where I am?” He asks, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head again. You nod against his chest. “Come on then, let’s get you back to bed.”
Peeta scoops you up and you laugh. He carries you back upstairs, and kisses you sweetly on the lips before depositing you on the bed and slipping in beside you. He pulls the covers around you both, and you curl up against him, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “We’re safe now, hm?” He reminds you, fingers dragging soothingly up and down your spine. Again, you nod against his chest, already feeling your eyelids becoming heavy with sleep.
coming from the bakery, peeta is naturally an early riser. used to spending his mornings kneading dough and preparing the day’s pastries, he is more than content with spending his mornings in your embrace. regardless of the position you find yourselves in, whether your legs are awkwardly tangled together or you fell asleep with your arms wrapped around each other, he finds himself admiring the serenity that sleep brings you. he wouldn’t dare interrupt your peaceful state, preferring to watch the way the colours of the sunrise contour the skin of your body and illuminate your face. the only time peeta would get up and leave you in the mornings is if it was absolutely required, but even then he would still leave a note with an explanation and a plate of breakfast for you on the nightstand.
peeta’s love languages are most definitely physical touch and acts of service. because of this, you can safely assume that when he’s not somewhere within an arms length of you, he is spending his time doing something for you instead. on cold days where not even the crackling fireplace can warm the chill in your bones, he’ll disappear only to return with a cup of hot chocolate and a thick, fluffy blanket over his shoulder to drape over you. on your busy days, he spends his free time picking flowers to give you upon your arrival home. he loves painting you, but if you didn’t enjoy being the subject of his art work, he takes inspiration from the things that remind him of you. he’s definitely the type to sneak up behind you, hands gliding against your waist to hug you from behind as he inhales the scent of your neck and observes what you’re doing.
out in public, his quiet type of protection provides you with a deep sense of security. if you happen to be separated and another man approaches you, it doesnt take long for peeta to find his way back next to you. quietly, he’ll slip his hand into yours as he listens to whatever the stranger says with a polite smile on his face before ending the conversation in such a graceful manner it leaves you amazed. when he sees the look of hungry eyes following your form, he gently places his hand on the small of your back and steers you far from sight of the lustful individuals.
he is by no means a healer, but the second that he suspects you’re feeling under the weather, peeta takes on the role with ease. you have a tiny cough or sniffle? expect yourself to be bedridden as doctor mellark suddenly replaces the man you love so much. he wouldn’t let you so much as lift a finger while he places cups of tea with honey by your bed and insists that you drink. on days where you actually are quite sick, he would nurse you back to health and stay by your bedside, reading to you from the books scattered across your home.
Summary: Reader has long been convinced she was a beta, when suddenly she falls prey to a strange illness. Luckily Peeta is there to explain to her that she's in heat... and offer her a little help.
Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Peeta, Switch!Peeta, Omega!Reader, Masturbation (f), P in V, Riding, Fingering, Knotting, Heat, Mildly dubious consent (due to the heat), Praise, Getting together, Set after the hunger games, Reader is literally just Katniss tbh, Reader is a lil bossy and Peeta is whipped for her.
Word count: 4.1k
all fandom masterlist | thg masterlist | read it on ao3
Author's note: This is omegaverse so prob not for everyone, Peeta is the alpha but it's even a plot point that he's not a usual alpha type and reader is more in control so hopefully it's true to character!! This is the first proper smut scene I've written in a while… hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡
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You hadn’t really seen Peeta in around a month, other than in passing on the road out of the Victor’s Village. It was a conscious choice. Things between the two of you were so complicated, a mess created by the act the Capitol demanded of you both. They were obsessed with you two, the star-crossed lovers, even now. It was much easier to keep apart, especially given the way you knew Peeta felt about you and the way you weren’t always sure you felt about him in return. Yet, for the past few days, your thoughts had been swirling around one thing and one thing only. Peeta. It wasn’t completely unheard of for you to think of him, in fact, you often did, trying to untangle the web of your own feelings, figure out how best to proceed when the two of you were constantly required to show up as a couple. But lately, those thoughts have shifted and intensified. In each moment you weren’t distracting yourself, you found your mind wandering to kissing him. The two of you had actually kissed a fair few times, mostly for public appearances, but you thought specifically of the moment that had been just for the two of you. In the cave during the games. Sure, the whole of Panem had been watching, but the two of you had gotten carried away in a way that was not for show. A gentle kiss meant to endear sponsors had deepened and lingered far beyond your intentions. It felt good, which wasn’t something you had experienced before. Since childhood, you found the concept of kissing gross, but in that moment, when Peeta’s tongue had gently slid against yours, you’d understood why people seemed so obsessed with it. Had the two of you not been in a fight to stay alive, you’re sure that kiss could have gone on for hours. At least, you would have allowed it to.
Typically, when revisiting this memory, you would feel a little wetness between your legs. It was exciting, you weren’t often aroused by much, and yet this reliably pulled at least a little tingle from you each time. The initial kiss had been one of the first times you’d experienced arousal at all, and nearly two years later it still affected you the same. But not anymore.
The past few days you had been recalling that kiss near constantly, it was more frequent than usual, but the real concern lay elsewhere. Just these last few days, you’d begun to wonder what else might have happened, had the two of you been able to continue without threat of death. Your mind explored scenarios you’d never allowed yourself before, Peeta’s hand on your chest, perhaps sneaking even lower, his hips between yours, rocking. It was all a little juvenile, you knew, most people your age were long past fantasising about this. They had done these things and more, but you had kept your desires locked away until now. What was even stranger was the intensity of your reaction to these new fantasies. You were used to a little wetness, a subtle feeling of arousal, but suddenly, as if by conditioning, the thought of Peeta seemed to have you soaking. You’d never in your life been so wet, so needy. You were persistently feeling overheated, sweaty and aroused like you had never experienced. Your body ached for more, even as you masturbated yourself several times a day. You had never been like this before. Touching yourself had been scarce, usually experimentation while bathing, only ever leading to an orgasm once. Yet somehow, you were now insatiable, lying in your bed with your blankets and pillows strewn around you and a towel beneath you, having yourself orgasm over and over. Yet each time, your thoughts would return to Peeta merely an hour later, keeping you confined to your bed, unwilling to venture out in this state. You knew something was wrong, but your mind was too foggy with constant escalating fantasies to figure out what it was.
Peeta hadn’t seen any sign of you in a few days. He tried to tell himself that was normal enough, since the two of you weren’t really speaking much, but he knew it wasn’t. He would quite often walk by you on the road, see you heading to the forest, pottering about in your garden, and yet he hadn’t seen you at all. Neither had anyone in town. From his window he could see your bedroom light turn on and off, day and night, but no other sign of life. It seemed like you hadn’t even been downstairs in several days. He was concerned. Perhaps you were ill.
The following morning, he came knocking at your door, holding a loaf of bread to offer you. He figured you didn’t want to see him, but he merely needed to confirm you were alright, and he knew you wouldn’t turn down some of his homemade herb loaf. He waited. He knocked again, a little louder. He waited. No response. His concern mounted, he’s sure that you would shout at him to go away, even if you really didn’t want to see him, and the last few months the two of you could at least sometimes sit and have a civil chat, so what gave? He shouts for you and hears nothing. He waits just a little more before deciding that confirming you were okay was more important than whatever it was that was making you potentially give him the silent treatment. He finds your spare key hidden under a rock near a patch of primrose and lets himself inside.
Stepping in, he was immediately hit by an overwhelming sweet scent. Drool pools under his tongue as he sniffs, trying to figure out what it is. Had you been baking? It seemed ridiculous. Had you asked Effie for one of those Capitol-favourite scented candles? It seemed unlike you. He calls for you once more and hears a weak whine in response. He straightens up immediately, the sound only worsening his concern. He calls again, figuring out where exactly the sound is coming from. Once he’s sure it is coming from your room, he dashes up the stairs. Throwing open your bedroom door, he is almost knocked to the ground by the strength of the sweet scent in your space. He closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to focus. His eyes fall on you.
You’re curled up, wearing the smallest amount of clothing he’s even seen you in, a tank top and little pyjama shorts, looking flushed and sweaty. Surrounding you is a barrier made out of pillows, blankets and clothes. You’re breathing heavily, staring at him. Though his mind is suddenly a little fuzzy, Peeta knows he’s stumbled across something abnormal, at least for you. His brain screams that you seem like you’re in heat, that you were clearly nesting, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? You’d always told him you were a beta, another reason the two of you couldn’t really be together. He averts his eyes, all the skin on display getting to him a little.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. You take a long moment to answer, your brain fuzzy, even more so than before. Your eyes are locked on Peeta’s lip as he licks them anxiously. You knew they felt good, but had they always looked so good too? The newfound scent in the air has you sniffing greedily, cinnamon and freshly baked bread, though the loaf Peeta had brought had been discarded on the table downstairs. His eyes flick to yours and you remember he asked you something.
“I think I’m sick,” you mumble, wiping some sweat from your brow, your eyes never leaving Peeta, wandering down to his strong arms. Unconsciously, you squirm in your bed, the arousal mounting once more. Peeta frowns with earnest concern which makes you feel bad, since you seem to have been overtaken by some sort of monstrous lust for him. He pulls up a chair, sitting by your bedside and taking a closer look at you. You seem feverish and uncomfortable and you smack his hand away when he tries to move one of the pillows that makes up your nest. He takes a moment, looking you over, watching as you pant and squirm slightly, your hand clearly wanting to make its way into your shorts, fiddling with the hem of your tank top.
“Are you sure you’re a beta?” he asks slowly. You grumble, your hips shifting in hope of relief.
“Obviously, my father was a beta, everyone from the Seam is a beta,” you hiss. Peeta contemplates.
“But your mother—”
“I take after my father,” you assert. Peeta leans over to look at you more closely and you can’t help squeezing your thighs together, whimpering. His scent is driving you wild.
“You’re nesting,” Peeta smirks. “And I think you’re quite clearly in heat,” he’s grateful his rut passed last week, else he isn’t sure what he might have been doing to you by now. He’s barely hanging on to decency as is, the sweet smell of you, your constant squirming.
“I just have a fever,” you complain weakly. You can’t even deny the nesting part as you look around, you were in a nest.
“A fever that makes you horny?” he teases softly, relishing in the deepening colour in your cheeks. You let out a puff of air, like you’re trying to catch your breath.
“I can’t be an omega, everyone else presented ages ago! Why would I only be presenting now?” you whine, barely listening as Peeta starts to explain how late blooming is normal and that you were probably malnourished when you were meant to present and only now did your body feel safe to experience heat. You interrupt him with a heated protest. “Besides! You know me! I hardly act like an omega!” Peeta considers your words. It’s true, you hardly act like a stereotypical omega, you were strong, a provider. But you were also nurturing.
“It isn’t black and white, everybody knows that’s outdated,” he tuts and shakes his head. “I mean, take me for example, do I really act like a stereotypical alpha?” He’s right, you find yourself thinking. Peeta is soft, kind, nurturing, he isn’t one for big fights or shows of strength, despite being plenty strong enough. You remember people gossiping in school that he may be a male omega. He’d presented as an alpha in the end, which you hadn’t thought much of at the time. It’s too much for you to process, the intense arousal flowing through you, the realisation that you were an omega, Peeta’s presence, his courage not to conform to the role he presented as but rather to continue to be himself. Maybe you could still be yourself as an omega. You close your eyes, hoping to clear your mind, but all you can think about is the intoxicating smell coming from Peeta. Your body aches. You open your eyes and just stare at his lips. He stares back, waiting.
“I am horny,” you admit pitifully, not sure you’d ever used that word before. Peeta blushes a little at your admission, even though he knew the state you were in. “It hurts,” you sniff.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he shushes despite himself, remembering how intense his first rut had been. His words have you shifting your hips again. You stick out your bottom lip, pouting up at him.
“Please, kiss me,” you beg, your mind returning to that kiss in the cave, his warm tongue against yours for the first time, the arousal you’d felt which is tenfold now. You feel what you now realise is slick gathering at lightning pace.
“I–” Peeta wants nothing more than to kiss you, but he isn’t sure whether it is something you truly want or whether it’s just your heat speaking. You look desperate, already subconsciously tugging at your shorts. He takes a shaky breath.
“Please, I keep thinking about it, that kiss in the cave, your tongue…” you trail off with a moan and Peeta can’t control himself. He crawls into your nest and you let him, a thrill running up your spine. He lays himself beside you, taking you into his arms and burying his nose into your neck for a moment, simply breathing in your pheromones. You smell perfect, sweeter than normal with your heat, but still fresh and so like yourself. He licks at your scent gland without thinking and you squirm, whimpering. “Kiss me,” you huff, grabbing at his shirt and trying to guide his lips to yours. Your bossiness amuses him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Your lips meet and it's like liquid heat runs through you, you moan into his mouth unabashedly, too needy to be embarrassed. Every touch of lips feels intensified, and when he finally gets the hint and brushes his tongue to yours, you’re on fire. You already feel your arousal soaking your shorts, under which you hadn’t bothered to wear underwear given the state you’d been in. Peeta moans into your mouth in return as you paw at him, drawing him closer. Your chests press together and his hand squeezes your waist. He laughs slightly with endearment as he feels you rocking desperately against the leg he graciously slotted between yours. The wetness can be felt even through his pants and he knows you must be too far gone for merely kissing to satisfy you for long.
“How long have you been in heat?” he asks between wet open-mouthed kisses. You whine at the need to form a coherent thought, enjoying thinking only about Peeta’s lips, tongue and hands. It takes you a moment and you keep pulling him impossibly closer.
“Three maybe four days,” you mumble against his lips, gasping as he begins to gently work down your ruined shorts.
“Oh, sweetheart, and you’ve been suffering alone?” Peeta whispers. He can only imagine how pent up you must be, knowing that heats are much more intense than ruts and he barely made it out of his first rut alive. “Let me help you,” he pulls back so he can discard your shorts completely, swallowing as you instinctively open your legs for him. You’re completely soaked and flushed, your cunt hot to the touch as he brings his fingers to you. As his fingertips brush your clit, you jolt like lightning has struck you, whining loudly and burying your face in his neck, ravenously huffing his scent.
“Please,” you beg incoherently as he slowly teases his fingers around your entrance, his eyes following the movement in awe. He’s wanted you for so long and there you are, legs spread for him and so beautifully needy. He gathers your slick onto his fingers and, unable to resist the sweet scent, brings them up to his mouth. You gasp as you watch him lick them clean, your sex throbbing with pure need as he groans at the taste. He’s about to lower himself between your legs for more of that taste, but with a burst of lascivious energy, you hoist yourself on top of him, straddling his lap and kissing him with even more fervour. He chuckles softly in surprise but allows you to take the lead, you’re the one so aroused it’s painful after all. Your tongues swirl together once more, but now you can taste yourself in his mouth and you can’t help but moan. It’s dirty, but you’ve never been more aroused, you didn’t know you had it in you. Peeta’s fingers find their way back to your cunt, teasing for a moment before gently pressing inside. Your forehead falls against his shoulder as he carefully pumps his fingers in and out of you, looking for that sweet spot. Once you shiver in a way that indicates he has, he picks up his pace. The lewd wet sounds his actions make only seem to arouse you further. You lift your head to kiss him once more, rocking your hips against his fingers in pure desperation. He stops his movements, allowing you to set the pace, putting his focus into kissing you in the way you seem to like best, messy and desperate. His free hand begins fumbling to get his pants off, knowing his fingers likely wouldn’t satisfy you for long. Or perhaps he merely wanted to be inside of you. Either way his pants had to go. You barely notice what he’s doing, too lost in the sensations he’s offering you. When he withdraws his fingers, you almost scream in frustration, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You pull back to glare at him.
“It’s okay sweetheart,” he chuckles. “I just thought maybe my fingers wouldn’t be enough,” you concede mentally that while his fingers had felt amazing, they weren’t quite scratching the itch. Still you grumble.
“Should have asked me first,”
“What a bossy little omega I have here,” he smiles genuinely, gently grasping your rear to guide your heat against his cock. You shiver as they make contact, your hips immediately begin to rock on pure instinct. Peeta groans in pleasure. Your annoyance at the bossy comment quickly melts away. Peeta is big. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this, but feeling it against your cunt was another thing entirely. You tremble, eyes meeting Peeta’s as you rock against him like a desperate animal. His eyes are lidded, his lip between his teeth, hands massaging the fat of your hips and rear. He was gorgeous. You squirm and whine and he knows what you want without you having to say it, the pain and arousal within you both increasing and driving you crazy. He lifts you just slightly and positions himself, rock-hard and oozing precum, at your entrance. Your breaths flutter in excitement, suddenly craving the feeling of being filled by him more than anything. You sink down before he’s expecting you to and the whimper that escapes his lips has you clenching around him even harder. He takes deep breaths to steady himself, rubbing your sides. “Deep breaths,” he puffs out, trying to help you while he’s feeling entirely overwhelmed himself. He somehow feels like a perfect fit and delightful stretch all at once, it takes you a little while to lower yourself to the hilt. You’re frustrated, desperate for your orgasm. It had you both as panting, moaning messes. Peeta watches, hair sticking to the sweat at his forehead, as you begin to lift yourself. He’s surprised by how quickly you’ve adjusted to him, but he supposes your heat and the amount of slick you’re producing must be helping. He puffs a breath, laying back and watching you as you try to find a rhythm you like. You feel heavenly around him, warm, wet and tight. You’re shaky as you move up and down at first, trying to figure out your pace. Each time you sink back down onto him, your eyes threaten to roll back in pleasure, your hips squirming, breaths shallow with need and frustration. “Take what you need, sweetheart,” Peeta husks, still kneading your hips. “I want to ease the pain,”
“I need it,” you pant. “Touch me,” your thighs shake as you move up and down on him and he fumbles to where you want him, his thumb finding your clit and beginning to draw soft circles against you. Your nails dig into his chest but he hardly minds, trying his best to keep up with you as you ride him with pure determination. He whimpers soft encouragement to you between loud sounds of pleasure which only push you further and further toward the edge. He feels so good within you, filling you like the two of you were made for this, for each other. Your head spins and your thighs ache, but you can’t stop moving against him, wailing in pleasure as Peeta’s thumb presses harder against your clit, trying his best to help you find your relief.
With a few more bounces, your hips slam down against his. Peeta gasps as he feels you pulsing around him, arousal gushing from you. Your eyes roll back, your body going stiff, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, your body twitching with the waves of sensation flowing through you like lightning. You’d never felt anything this intense, didn’t even know it was possible. Your nails scratch down Peeta’s chest as you tremble above him. Peeta in turn is gripping you hard, whining your name as he releases within you, your pulsing and writhing pushing him over the edge. He holds your hips in place as the knot at the base of him begins to swell, not wanting you to hurt yourself. A wave of overstimulation goes through you as he inadvertently pushes himself deeper into you. When you realise what’s happening you let out a whimper, trying to sit up straighter to accommodate the pressure. Your chest is still heaving, your eyes shut as you try your best to process what had just happened. Peeta’s hands soothe over your sides as you squirm on him.
“Shhh, don’t move, just look at me,” he coos, reaching up to cup your cheek and turn you to face him. You lean into his hand and stare at each other for a moment. His free hand remains caressing your side. “You are so beautiful,” he can’t help but say it when you look so breathless and pleased, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. “So pretty,”
It seems silly to get shy now, after all that happened, but you still feel it a little, hiding your face in his hand for a moment. You both still breath hard at the feeling of him inside of you, but the feeling had mellowed out into something comfortable.
“You feeling better?” he inquires softly, pushing some sweaty hair from your forehead.
“Yeah… is my heat over?” you wonder aloud, feeling silly for not knowing. Peeta smiles, still caressing your face while you’re letting him, he’s wanted to for so long, and he’s not sure if this will last once the haze lifts. He’d be okay if he was just to help you through your heats from now on, but he can’t help hoping for more. He never could.
“Quite possibly, if it had already lasted four days and you had such an intense orgasm,” he mulls it over. You nod. You certainly feel better, less desperate, more coherent, but you can’t rule out that it might come back again in an hour like before. “Though if it comes back, I’m happy to help again,” he grins cheekily, thinking about how you’d stopped him from going down on you. He hoped he’d have a chance to rectify that some day. You roll your eyes in amusement. You shift, whimpering as you feel his knot within you. You know the both of you are on birth control pills from the capitol, but it’s still a little thrilling to the newly discovered primal part of your brain. Peeta’s voice draws you from your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, how is it even possible?” he asks, eyes tender with adoration. That expression used to hurt you to see, but now you just smile back.
“You’re gorgeous,” you mumble into his palm. The soft surprise on Peeta’s face is worth the vulnerability. He laughs, trying to seem casual. His knot has finally deflated and he helped you off of him, the both of you hissing at the sensation, still sensitive from the unexpectedly frantic lovemaking you’d just shared. He helps you lay down beside him, smiling in amusement and affection as you demand him to incorporate his discarded clothes into your nest. The two of you lay facing one another under a thin blanket. You finally feel a normal temperature, no longer sweating. You must look gross, but Peeta doesn’t seem to mind, stroking your cheekbones with reverence. “I can’t believe I’m an omega,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna be all submissive,”
“I told you, that’s an outdated view, plus you weren’t exactly submissive just now,” he teases, kissing your forehead.
“That’s true, perhaps I just need to stick with you,” Your words make Peeta freeze, he tries not to get excited.
“Yeah?” he swallows, pulling back to look at you. You take in the hopeful expression on his face, he doesn’t look like what an alpha is to most people at this moment, vulnerable, hopeful, looking to you to make the big moves. But he looks exactly like your alpha. You feel the unfamiliar urge to bare your neck.
“Yeah,”
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