“There Is Nothing Of Equal Value To Me”

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Brat-taming: Simon Riley MDNI

Sugar and Sweat: Simon Riley MDNI

Stuck With Me: Jason Todd MDNI

Jason loves his whiny girl

Dating Jason vs Dick

copyright © 2023-2025 crumblecreamery. all rights reserved. do not recreate.

Praise kink, breeding kink, dirty talking, size difference, dacryphilia, unprotected vaginal sex, fingers in mouth, creampie, filthy description

Simon Riley is so fucking big that no matter how many times you’ve fucked before, you’ll always struggle to accomodate his size.

Moaning and writhing as he pushes in, the initial stretch is almost painful. Simon is not only long, but thick. ‘Huge’ doesn’t do him justice. He has you in a mating press, knees to your chest as if he wants to feel himself in your stomach. And you’re convinced that he actually is.

It’s simply too much. It always is. You’ve barely started but are already close to tears. With your hand on his scarred torso, you try to push him away. It’s an instinctive move to tell him to slow down. But instead of obliging, Simon only replies, firm and curt. “Hands off or I stop.” “You’ll take it, ‘know you can. You always do.”

Simon moves your hand away and pins both your wrists against the mattress by the side of your head. Then he thrusts all the way in, pulling out just halfway before sheathing himself to the hilt, practically moulding you to the shape of his cock. You can feel every throb and vein.

You cry as Simon groans. It’s guttural and deep and shamefully arousing. He begins to move and his mouth works with unending mantras. “Fuckin’ perfect, Christ.” “Warmest, tightest pussy.” “Can stay buried in this cunt forever.” “Just like that, fuckkk” And then there’s the wet sound of skin on skin, the filthy noise heard just beneath your airy whines and his breathy pants. “Look at you.” Plap. “Fucking.” Plap. “Taking.” Plap. “Me.” Plap. “So.” Plap. “Well.”

Simon’s dog tag hovers over your face with every snap of his hips. As your brows furrow in concentration and active effort to adjust, one of his thumbs smooth over your forehead whilst his other rubs at your swollen clit to help you ease. And eventually, as always, the pain subsides and morphs into pleasure.

Still, your mind begins to haze as you’re completely fucked dumb now. Your eyes grow wet and you sniffle, palms holding onto nothing as they remain pinned by your head, tearing up from sex. Oh god.

Simon chuckles at the sight of you cock drunk. He’ll be lying if he says he doesn’t love the image of you ruined on his cock, soaked and pathetic. Caressing your flushed cheek, he squeezes them slightly with an order. “Open,” he taps your chin, and you barely have to think before parting your lips enough for him to slide his fingers in your mouth. “That’s it, suck.”

Simon’s favourite moment (though it’s hard to choose) is when your glossed eyes roll back, voice muffles, and pussy tightens around him like a vice. You clench onto him like you don’t want ever want to let go as Simon places some pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his cock drilling in and out. It seems you feel it too as your pleas and sobs grow louder, music to his ears. “ ‘am close Si, please…fuck, ‘am close.”

“Then cum on my cock, let go f’r me, love.”

There’s no better feeling than that overwhelming bliss, that shared moment of intimacy when you both unravel, and you fall apart in his strong, inked arms. You hear Simon curse and feel him spilling inside you—warm and full— and when he pulls out, he plugs everything back in again with his fingers, drawing out one last cry. “Can’t waste anything now, hm?” “Wouldn’t you look so pretty swollen with my kids?” he muses.

Finally, Simon briefly kisses your temple, short stubble contrasting soft skin as he wipes your tears. Euphoric tears. The last thing you hear before you’re picked up in his muscled hold and walked towards the bathroom is that long awaited praise. “Good girl, did so well for me.” And fuck, would you let him do it again.

Jason Todd Thoughts

Jason Todd who is 100% the type of guy to smile at you with a mouth full of blood and wink at you if he ever got arrested.

Jason Todd who stumbles into your apartment with deep gashes from patrol and holds your waist as you treat him. Then he’ll have you ride him, insisting he’s fine

Jason Todd who is never insecure. You can wear a belt as a skirt and flounce about, because the second another guy dares to stare at you, Jason will have them pummeled to the ground.

Jason Todd who promised to stop smoking if you’d find him another way to occupy his mouth. Now whenever he has the urge to, he pulls you down to sit on his face. “Fucking suffocate me, baby.”

Jason Todd who fucks you rough and hard until you’re sore and dumb. But once it’s over, he’ll kiss your all over with aching softness and run you a warm bath. (Or give you another round in the shower if you’re up for it.)

Jason Todd who can be bleeding out on a random rooftop but the second he sees your message reading “miss you, Jay,” he’ll be knocking on your door. He’ll always come home to you.

Jason Todd who sounds like Candy by Doja Cat

A/N: mind that everything is headcannon and bon-appetit!

CW: none, pure fluff

Jason:

-In the simplest way, dating Jason can be described as humble yet plenty enough. He hasn’t got the wealth to be lavish like Bruce or even Dick, but everything that you wish for, you’ll find yourself receiving.

-For instance, once when the two of you went shopping, this really beautiful but costly satin nightdress caught your eyes. You mentioned it to Jason, to which he replied with, “$180 for that piece of fabric?”

-Still, the following night, you’d found the exact piece sitting on top of your vanity. “I still prefer to see you in my shirt though,” Jason shrugged when you squeezed him in a tight hug and peppered him with endless kisses, but not without a faint, adoring grin.

-Jason’s not a naturally romantic person considering his lack of passion in past relationships, or lack of relationships in general. He was more used to casual hook-ups and one night stands. However, with you, Jason is always attentive and ensures to make mental notes of even your smallest reactions.

-This is reflected in the way he treats you. Jason sees how your eyes linger on social media posts about pretty bouquets so he tries to bring you your favourite flowers at least once every fortnight. He overhears a conversation between you and a friend about these ridiculously overpriced plushies called Jellycats, but he loves you, so he buys one just to hear you squeal.

-Besides this, the two of you have an ongoing tradition. Every Friday night, after patrol, Jason brings home takeout (and it’s always what you like to eat). Then as you dine together, you’d watch a horror film or cheesy romcom, depending on who’s choosing.

-Despite Jason’s rugged exterior, he’s surprisingly skilled at cooking. We’re not talking about a lousy pasta or easy fried rice—this man is talented. Seriously, the steak he grills is one of the best you’ve ever tasted.

-Jason also does all of the plumbing and electrical work in your shared apartment. He’s extremely skilled with his hands and because of that, he refuses to pay for ‘simple’ tasks he claim are a scam for money. “It’s not that hard,” you’re always hearing him say, “pfft, I can do that too.”

-In turn, your role is to put up with his dry sense of humour, smoking habit, and to patch up his bloodied wounds on (basically) a daily basis.

-Jason’s love languages are acts of service and quality time. He expresses his love for you in silent, unspoken ways, whether that’s making you some warm tea when you’re groggy or reading with you on his lap. (Yes, Jason is a reader) With him, it’s all about the little things.

Dick:

-Dick, on the other hand, is definitely a lot more flashy but not in a materialistic way at all. This man is a die-hard romantic and most times, you wonder to yourself how he is even real! A man can’t possibly be this perfect.

-He never needs an excuse to gift or spoil you. Dick might be out on a mission or grocery shopping, but the second he spots something that reminds him of you, he’s buying it. “Look, I got you this hair clip because yellow reminds me of you. You like it?” “This teddy has eyes like you.”

-Dating Dick also means that the two of you are conjoined. Personal space does not exist so you can forget about it. If you’re angry, he expects you to tell him why. If you’re smiling, he better be the reason why. His hands are constantly on your waist, arms wrapped around you, showering you with kisses. Basically a golden retriever come to life.

-Whereas Jason has a Friday tradition, Dick has a weekend breakfast. Often, on a lazy Saturday morning, you’ll find your boyfriend missing from his side of the bed. But if you follow along and trail the scent of buttery goodness, you’ll find him flipping pancakes in the kitchen—berries for him, chocolate for you. God, and there’s nothing hotter than a shirtless chef.

-Dick’s love languages are pretty obvious. For one, he loves physical touch and genuinely will whine if you try to abstain him from hugging or kissing you for an hour. He also makes a habit of praising you with words of affirmation and showering you with gifts, as mentioned above.

-Life with Dick is truly mostly sunshine and rainbows. The only obstacle is his underlying fear of disappointing Bruce. Due to the way he was brought up, his golden boy title, and mountainous pile of responsibilities, Dick does commonly get anxious. That’s when you need to intervene and assure him as he would for you. “You really think I do a good job as Nightwing?” “And the best boyfriend ever.”

A/N: in honor of oct 31st, felt like writing something nasty

Featuring: our favourite masked man

C/W: mdni, NSFW content, implied younger fem reader, dom!simon, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), brief mention of fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, among other things

Simon Riley who’s in his early forties. He’d just been discharged by the SAS, the entire TF141 dispersed as if their years of commitment and service meant fuck all to the new bastards in charge. It’d been an ‘honourable’ discharge, but that meant jack shit when he’s now lost everything—the task force had not only been his family but his life.

Simon Riley who feels stranded outside the military base. He lacks the qualification to get a decent job and all he has left in his name are a few articles of clothes and scraps. Thank god, with the last of some shitty government fund, Simon is able to purchase a cheap place to stay.

Simon Riley who now lives in a trailer park, brooding and grumpy. Still feeling heavy from his dismissal, he’s fallen into old habits of chain-smoking and drinking. A whole mid-life crisis. He’s overwhelmed by rage when he’s sluggish with intoxication, but when he’s sober, it hurts more than ever.

Simon Riley who opens the door one morning, wearing only the dog tag he hadn’t once taken off and an aged pair of low-hanging jeans. Irritated he grunts, “What the fuck do you want this ear—” But then he sees you. A pretty little thing who has no place in his trailer park full of junkies and perverted old men.

Simon Riley who invites you inside. Funnily, it’s the first time he has let anyone into his home. Simon unashamedly stares you up and down, taking in your luscious hair, butter-yellow dress, twinkling eyes, and oh soft skin. He learns that you’re baking cake for a friend and are here to borrow sugar. Albeit hesitant, Simon rustles through his pantry cabinet and finds a packet of sugar that hasn't expired. He isn't entirely sure why he’s offering a helping hand but he finds his efforts worth it when you flash him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. Christ.

Simon Riley who raises a brow when you ask, “What can I do in return, mister? You’ve been so kind.” He’s half stunned and half intrigued at your enthusiastic demand to repay him. Really, he’d just expected you to go on your way. But since you asked… maybe he can get you to clean his trailer? Or maybe he can have a share of the goods you’re baking.

Simon Riley who is still considering what compensation to ask of you when he catches your shy gaze dropping to his scarred torso, not-so-slyly checking him out. He watches as you instantly grow pink and turn away. Ding. Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants from you.

Simon Riley who swipes empty beer bottles off of his couch and folds you over like a pretzel, knee to your chest. He slides your frothy dress up to reveal a pair of lace panties that he desperately wants to tear off. As he push the flimsy material to the side, he lets out a guttural sound, "Fuck, prettiest fuckin' pussy I've seen."

Simon Riley who gives you the best head you've ever received. He kisses and licks, sucking on your swollen clit, then thrusting his tongue in and out with such expertise that you can't help but to feel a rush of jealousy at the others who had been lucky to experience this before you. Simon's stubbled jaw scratches at your supple skin but what's pleasure without a little pain? He eats like a man starved, and when he adds a few delicious curl of thick fingers, you're immediately bucking against his mouth.

Simon Riley who finally frees his aching cock from the restraint of his pants, silently amused as he watches the startled look on your face. He answers your question before it's even asked, as if it's an ordinary concern. "You'll take it. We'll make it fit, love." Then he's stretching you apart to accommodate his size and filling you to the hilt like you've never felt before, drawing out the most humiliating gasp you've ever gasped.

Simon Riley who barely lets you adjust before beginning to fuck into you, rough and hard, until you're sure you're delirious. A large hand of his settles around the base of your neck, not tight but firm as he ensures that you feel every vein and pulse with each snap of his hips. At some point, you can barely keep your eyes open, having been fucked dumb on his cock. All you can focus on is how scarily endowed he is, the dog tag hovering above your face, the stench of sweat, and the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. You've never felt such bliss and filth at once.

Simon Riley who, despite his rugged exterior, marred form, and intimidating presence, praises like he worships you. "Good fuckin' girl, doing so well f' me." "Taking it like you're made for it." "Maybe I should keep you huh? Fuck you dumb on my cock like this every day?" "Sweetest thing I've tasted, fuckin' hell." "Gonna be good and cum for me, hm?"

Simon Riley who groans as you whimper and arch your back, clenching tight around his cock. He feels himself pulse and quickly pulls out before he spills, covering your soft thighs with warm spurts of his cum. Simon takes a second to tentatively brush a strand of hair away from your face, covertly admiring you with a fascination that catches himself off guard. Seeing you meet his gaze with gentle eyes, he finds himself craving something new and wanting after nearly a year of lost light.

Simon Riley who has you seated on his lap, pulled against his muscled body after he had cleaned you up and handed you a shirt to wear. He can't help but question his years of self-discipline as he feels his cock hardening again at the alluring sight of you in his oversized clothes. "How you feelin'?" Simon asks. On the surface, it seems that he's merely studying your dazed expression, when really, he's memorising every contour and freckle in case he never sees you again. Simon despises the fact that he won't even be able to blame you if you wish to not be associated with the likes of him. He may be familiar with rejection but that doesn't lessen the sting.

Simon Riley who is surprised when you flash him a devastatingly pure smile that has his stomach feeling all sorts of odd. He cocks a brow as you murmur in a meek but honeyed voice, "A little sore, but it's alright. If you don't mind me asking mister—what's your name?" Simon is disarmed by your curiosity, but more than that, by his own reaction. He can't quite understand what's happening as he willingly speaks of his guarded past, simply because your fingers had traced the ink along his skin. And when he slips his dog tag around your neck and goes as far as to offer you dinner, the realisation strikes him hard. You've bewitched him.

Simon Riley who has been befuddled by his own behaviour ever since you knocked on his door earlier. Yet he knows one thing for certain—you won't just be the neighbour who came by to borrow sugar. When you agree to join him for a humble meal later, what Simon feels is instantaneous. For the first time since he was discharged, he feels something good—a fragile spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, his life isn't entirely over after all.

Jason loves his whiny girl

Jason’s just gotten off patrol. As soon as he enters the apartment, he sees his moping girlfriend—snuggled in a fluffy pink robe, paired with a warm mug of tea. Her favourite soap opera is playing on the TV and she’s wearing her signature pout that has him biting back his amusement.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jason pretends to ask, entertaining her daily drama. He pretends as if nothing is ever wrong, as if she doesn’t complain at every chance. And he pretends he doesn’t love to listen when it’s secretly his favourite thing to do.

“Everything, Jay! Everything’s wrong.”

“Tell me about it.”

Picking her up to straddle his lap, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Jason hums contently like he’s paying attention when he’s really just enjoying gawking at his pretty doll huff and puff, a ‘serious’ knit on her face.

Tilting his head, Jason then continues to hide his grin as she begins to rant, telling him about her terrible day and all the people who did her wrong.

“First, the barista messed up my drink,” she frowns. “He gave me two pumps of caramel instead of one.”

“When I got to work, Lisa was being such a bitch. She told me my hair actually looks so good today, but they look great every day!”

“Then, then Jay, that’s not even the worst part!” Looking even more upset, she whines, “my parcel said its delivered, but when I came home, it wasn’t by the door!”

And of course, like the caring, dutiful boyfriend that he is, Jason plays the part of comforting her. He brushes a brisk kiss on her temple, thumb caressing at pink cheeks. “Oh no, my poor baby.”

It’s not like he means to sound condescending, but luckily, all ditzy and moody, she doesn’t notice.

Jason can’t help but find it a teensy bit ridiculous that whilst he’s busy beating drug lords and delinquents to a pulp, his girl has the privilege of sulking over a wrong coffee order.

In a way, it’s almost refreshing. Though mostly comical.

Yet, like always, Jason’s hands wander beneath her smooth robe and silken nightdress to find even softer skin. He flashes her a criminal smirk with a suggestive glint in his eyes.

“Let me help you feel better, yeah?”

“Have had such a bad day, lemme show you how you deserve to be spoiled.”

Despite her irrational moans and bad case of princess fever, Jason is sure to indulge his girl like no one else does.

He loves her just the way she is.

A/N: This is one of my longest works but I’m happy with it. Let me preface that he’s not a cheater. It’s a rollercoaster of a ride so buckle up!

Synopsis: Even after your breakup with Jason, he’d been showing up at your apartment every night without fail. When a heated confrontation turned physical, things revealed to be more complicated than you’d ever expected.

CW: mdni, nsfw content, mean!jason, dom!jason, toxic dynamic, dirty-talk, slight degradation, kissing, fingering, vaginal penetration, raw sex, cream-pie

"Jason, get the fuck out."

It was quarter past ten and you'd just returned from your fifth date of the month. Since your recent breakup with Jason due to him being found in a compromising position with an ex-girlfriend of his, you'd been determined to erase him completely from your mind.

You started off by eradicating traces of his presence- the sheets that stained of his cologne, the photos on the wall, and the dumb napkin you kept from your first date.

The only exception was an oversized sweatshirt that you still occasionally wore to sleep. It was comfortable, you told yourself, that that was the reason you kept it. Yet the sight of it in the back of your dresser made you feel a little pathetic every time you glimpsed at it. Guilty. One more wear and you'd toss it out. Just one last wear.

However, it was all easier said than done. And moving on was certainly made harder by the fact that the bastard showed himself in your apartment every night without fail.

At first, you allowed it. You’d thought Jason was only back to collect his belongings, so you watched with spiteful eyes and commanded him to take back everything— his gifts, his clothes, and his damn Red Hood suit. Then, as soon as he was done, you ordered him to leave and to never return again.

The second time Jason appeared, he had just finished patrol. His bloodied suit had been stripped on the ground and his chest was heaving with a terrible gash across his skin. "Help?" he'd asked from his form on the couch. And despite gripping clenched fists and with gritted teeth, you'd reluctantly cleaned him up before sending him out. Again.

On the third time that he’d entered, you made sure to confiscate his set of keys. To your surprise, Jason complied without a fight but he wore a wordless smirk on his face. You hadn't known the meaning of it until he somehow re-emerged a fourth time. Then fifth. Then sixth. It was as if "we're done, I never want to see your fucking face again" meant nothing, and he'd never left.

After work, you knew what awaited you at home. And oh, the terrible, stupid, painful ache you felt in your chest as you would find him on your couch, your dining table, then sitting by your bed. Utterly disrespectful, disregarding your feelings, re-tainting your space with the same memories you tried to destroy and burn into ash.

You hated him. You hated him so much because not only had he broken your heart, he had stolen it. Jason had left a vacant space. A space you desperately tried to fill by going out on dates with eligible bachelors at every possible moment.

There was no denying you were an attractive woman. Smart, educated, beautiful, sweet, young, and charming. You had a bundle of successful men lined up one after another after Jason's loss. Doctors, business-owners, models, actors, engineers, and even a few multimillionaires. You’d forced yourself to give them a chance but with every passing date, the knit in your stomach coiled tighter. You knew deep inside you could never move on from the rugged, scoundrel vigilante with scars for days. You hated that most of all.

Tonight's contestant was a bar owner. Older, built, not a bad-looking guy. Of course, he'd brought you to his establishment and seated you in his private, most lavish room reserved for only the top, VIP guests. He fed you delicious food— some wine-stewed venison— and the drink in your glass never once emptied. Throughout the dinner, he complimented you, talked about himself, and asked questions about your life and profession. Seriously, there was nothing wrong with him. A perfect gentleman. Yet you still found yourself making up vague excuses to leave early. Why? You didn’t know.

The door clicked close as you flickered on the lights. You needn't see him to know it was him. It was routine at this point. This time, Jason was sitting on your reading chair. His helmet had been strewn onto your coffee table and he looked just as out of place among the soft-pink cushions as ever. You felt your cheeks grew hot at the sight of him. Out of anger, you told yourself.

"Get out. Now." Your teeth grinded with the effort it took you not to scream and thrash at him.

Jason only stood up, approaching with lazed but sure steps as he cocked a brow. Instantly, you feel irritated and bothered. Jamming a manicure finger into his toned chest, attempting to press hard, to make him hurt, you glared, "I told you to never come back again. Why won't you fucking listen? I don't want you in my apartment, Jason! We are over!"

He didn't even attempt to move you. Instead, Jason stepped closer until you felt the warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You slapped his hand away. "Leave," you growled, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Jason’s laugh dripped with condescension. "Why? So your rich playdate can come in? I promise I won't bloody him too much." Jason tilted his head a little, gaze dropping to your lips before they met your eyes with a small sneer. Then he looked past your head, voice laced with challenge. "Speaking of, where is he? Or…” he dragged, “maybe you lied and there was no date. Pity. You look so good."

Jason's hand snaked out to hold your hips, and you fought to ignore how nice they felt or how they reminded you of the sinful things they were capable of doing.

“None of that concerns you,” you spat in retort, full of malice. "Why, you jealous?" It was just a light taunt but secretly, you might've wished that he was. It would make you feel a little bit better if that were the case.

"You could never replace me or find someone better." Jason replied without missing a beat, but now, any semblance of a grin had been wiped off his face.

"Don't flatter yourself. Anyone is better than you."

At that, he barked out a dry chuckle, and his thumb caressed your hip in a way that he wasn't even aware of doing. "You think that you’re so tough because you act it. You pretend that you're over me, yet you still sleep in my clothes."

The red, hot rage that replaced your previous bitterness was evident. Crimson coloured your cheeks and Jason seemed to grow amused again.

“What? You thought I didn’t know?”

You scoffed incredulously. Just as you thought he couldn't be any more of a shameless hound. "You snooped through my things?"

"Mine, actually. And I didn't need to, it was just sitting on your chair."

"You're actually fucking unbelievable."

"You're obsessed."

"Fuck you."

You attempted to push him away then, finally riled up.

How dare he accuse you of these things?! Who did he think he was? Of course you had moved on! That's why you were able to go on all those dates.

Your chest rose and fell with the exasperated amount of fury, agitation, disbelief, but most importantly, the hurt that you felt. It was written all over your face but you no longer cared. The words on your tongue tasted like acid, metallic and bitter as you spewed them.

"I don't know how I ever loved you."

With the eight words that fell came a heavy silence that suddenly rang through the room. You could see the very moment that Jason's eyes darkened, his fist clenched, and all traces of amusement or mockery died.

Jason’s jaw set tightly as he spoke with deceiving calm. It chilled you as much as it humiliatingly excited you. "Look me in the eyes and say that again, I dare you.”

You swallowed then lifted your chin. His eyes were a deep shade of molten green but now it looked closer to a blackened hue. It was so quiet that you could only hear the drum of your heart and sounds of shallow breathing apart from the crackle of tension which thrummed between your bodies.

You had thought that you'd relish in the sight of Jason affected but you didn't. As you spoke, your voice lacked conviction. You repeated yourself a second time and began to realise how big of a sorry lie it was.

"I said, I don't know how I ever lov-"

Jason's hand reached out so fast to wrap around the base of your throat, you could barely react as his lips crashed down on yours. It should've showered you with mortification that you didn't even pretend to put up a fight before you moaned against his lips and kissed him back just as ravenously. You kissed with heated passion and unspoken wrath. It was a clash of teeth and tongue. A tangled mess of pants, fervour, thirst, and need. Absolutely filthy.

Only pulling back to breathe, Jason leaned down to bite and suck on your skin. Skin which had been left unmarked for way too long. Your neck, your jaw, your lobes. Fuck gentle. “Been too fucking long,” he rasped.

You shuddered as Jason’s teeth skimmed the column of your throat and his tongue traced after. You should have pushed him away but instead, you mewled a desperate whine and tugged him closer by his tussled black hair. Fingers raking through the familiar, silver-grey strand at the front of it, your thighs rubbed for much needed friction.

In the past, you would've hurried him, but he was right and it had been wayyy too long. With every skilled touch and every move of his lips, he elicited another zap within you, bringing you back to life. You can regret this come morning.

Jason pushed your short skirt up the curve of your ass then tugged your dampened panties down as they fell to your ankle. A cool breeze brushed against your pussy, and your thighs clenched, earning yourself a rough spank. Smack.

"Spread them open." Despite not wanting to give into his orders so easily, you followed like the habit of a life time. You parted your legs and held onto the nearest wall for stability. Then, you felt the pad of his thick fingers tracing through your wet slit as they pressed against your entrance and pushed, stretching you open.

You moaned just as Jason groaned. "Fuck baby, you're so tight and warm." He set out a punishing pace right away, thrusting and curling his fingers the exact way you loved it as he used his thumb to rub at the nub of your clit simultaneously. Jason worked you with ease, and when he felt you clench too quickly, he added another.

You hadn't felt this good in so long, and your fingers had never felt the same as his. Even the toys you'd purchased after your breakup had not measured close to him. "Mm,” he drawled, “Poor baby's been neglected, hm?"

"None of your little dates could satisfy your needs, huh?"

Jason increased his pace, curling his fingers rougher. His taunts have fully returned as soon as he felt you beginning to pulse and squeeze. He knew exactly what that meant. "Must feel nice after not being properly touched for so long."

"Sh-shut up."

"What was that? You want me to stop?" He mocked.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. You wouldn't put it past the bastard to follow through. "N-no! No, please, Jay."

You needn't turn around to see the infuriating smirk that must have crawled on his face. Jason chuckled with amusement. "Back to Jay now, am I? Would've done this earlier if I'd known."

"You-" Whatever clever retort you had on the tip of your tongue vanished as it got cut off with a moan.

With a skilled flick of your clit and a few more thrusts, you felt yourself shudder as the built up knot in your belly unravelled and you came around Jason’s fingers. He’d continued to fuck you through your release before eventually pulling out.

Jason turned you around to face him just as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked. He did it so naturally that it deepened the hue on your cheeks. Jason studied you with smouldering eyes then his lips were on yours once more. He kissed as if he all he wanted to breathe was you.

Jason pulled down his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. He was huge as ever and you felt him hot and throbbing, his angry, leaking tip brushing against your lower belly. Jason broke off the kiss as he stroked himself a few times and placed some pressure at your entrance. At this point, you were too desperate to stop. No way you could stop.

“Quick, what are you waiting for?” You breathed impatiently, whole body buzzing with desire. You lifted your hips a little, urging him to push inside already, and with that, Jason sheathed himself with a brutal thrust that drew a loud cry from you.

The stretch was borderline painful. Jason pulled out halfway before thrusting in again to the hilt, moulding you to the shape of his cock. Even when you were dating, he had been difficult to handle. So after four tortuous months of abstinence, he was practically impossible to adjust to.

“Fuck,” you hissed, hands clamping down on his broad shoulders, your manicured nails digging in. You felt your eyes prickle with effort as you mumbled with a whiny edge. “It’s too much…Jay, it’s too much.”

Jason’s response was: “You can take it. You’ve taken more before.”

As you started to relax around him, slowly familiarising yourself with his size again, he gradually picked up the paces of his thrusts. The slicked sounds of skin on skin amplified as Jason groaned and closed his eyes from the sensation. “You feel so fucking good baby. I’ve missed this so much.” I’ve missed you.

You weren’t entirely sure whether it was hearing him calling you ‘baby’ again or his thumb finding your clit, but you squeezed around him, moaning louder as the sting morphed into a haze of pleasure. You clung onto Jason, breathing heavy as you not-so-discreetly inhaled his intoxicating scent. Since the breakup, you had tried so hard to diminish the smell of cloves, gunpowder, and leather that you’d forgotten how much you loved it. Jason hid his smile and pretended not to notice. He snapped his hips, fucking you into oblivion. Faster. Harder.

The bliss was overwhelming, and somewhere between the blur of sweat and pants, the proximity of your bodies as you shuddered again and formed a cream ring at the base of his cock, you began to sniffle.

A tear rolled down your cheeks, warm and salty. Jason’s thrusts faltered a little—barely noticeable—but he did not stop. He wiped it away with his thumb. “Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you so dumb you’re crying.” He was not too surprised if that had been the case considering that it had happened in the past. An embarrassing amount of times, in fact. “I’m not even that rough tonight.” But perhaps it was the break, he thought. “I’m not too rough, am I?”

You didn’t correct him and only shook your head. You tried to place your sudden sorrow aside and to relish in the pleasure as Jason fucked you through a third orgasm before he finally buried his face in the crook of your neck. With a deep, guttural sound, Jason twitched inside you and held you still as he filled you—thick and hot. When he’d pulled out, he dripped past your thighs.

“I’ll clean you up, baby,” Jason rasped, and after a beat, he added though his voice had dropped, “don’t send me out tonight.” An unspoken plea hung through the air as his forehead fell to yours. He swallowed, and you heard the faint inhales and exhales that he took as your chest matched his breathing. Jason pressed an unexpectedly soft kiss onto your temple.

Basking in the aftermaths of your gratification, spent and sore, your lips couldn’t help but to tremble. Guilt returned to slap you across the face as your stomach dropped with an immense wave of shame at the realisation of what you had done. You were so fucking stupid. You allowed him in again. You let your guard down and succumbed because you were weak.

Your voice was more vulnerable than you preferred, a little shook as you mumbled, “I c-can’t.”

“Why not?” At your rejection, Jason had looked almost dejected, and how dare he, you thought. He had been the one to betray your trust, to wreck your relationship, and to shred your heart to pieces. And he had the audacity to act disappointed that you wouldn’t let him sleep over after he had used you?

“Because you fucking cheated on me!”

It was the first time you’d ever experienced the world stop spinning. Everything came to a halt as Jason’s expression froze and a look of revelation crossed his face. It was the also the first time you’d seen him so stunned. Jason’s grip on your hips loosened before one of his large hands cupped your face, his dark green eyes narrowed.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked, but it was not as lost now, rather in disbelief. Jason breathed out a hard scoff, his words careful but angry. Whether it was towards you or himself, you weren’t sure, but his reaction made you unsettled. “That was the reason you ended things? Are you fucking kidding me?”

And then there was hurt. Jason Todd looked hurt.

“Are you insane? You cheated on me, of course I broke up with you!”

“I never cheated on you! What the hell are you talking about?” Jason roared, matching your volume now, and you flinched. Your breath hitched and your lips parted, brows furrowed with complete bewilderment. Jason had sounded so torn and raw and honest, but you knew what you saw. You were sure of it.

Jason closed his eyes then opened them in a futile attempt to ease his rage. “That night,” he spoke, the undying blaze in his livid gaze and his steel grip on your cheeks remaining firm. “You offered me no explanation but demanded me to pack and to leave. I had simply assumed that I’d done or said something stupid to push you away like I had done to the others in my past.”

You swallowed as Jason’s words spun your head and made you relive what had sure to be the worst night of your life. You could practically taste the metallic tang of bitterness and anguish as you replayed the vivid image of Jason and Sophie, an ex of his, in the lobby of your complex. You had been so excited to return to him after work had ended only to be sickened by the sight of her skinny fingers trailing down his chest. Sophie’s slender, perfect figure had been practically glued against Jason’s as she whispered him something with a practiced smile. You couldn’t even bear to look at Jason as blood rushed to your ears and you fled back to your apartment, beaten and deceived. No matter how much you felt for him, it was over, you told yourself.

“You looked so broken and hurt, it killed me. For once, I loved someone enough to leave without question. I just thought you finally realised you were too good for me.” Jason licked his lips and scoffed again. “But it was because you thought I cheated on you? You really thought so little of me you believed that I was disloyal?”

“Stop gaslighting me, Jason! I saw it with my own eyes. You and Sophie in the lobby! She was all over you and you let her!”

With each accusation, Jason appeared more struck, as if each word was a twist of dagger to his chest.

“What are you talking about? She threw herself at me! If only you’d stayed a second longer, you would’ve seen me pushing away! I would never want another woman,” his voice broke with how much emotion he poured into it. Jason felt stabbed by a stupendous amount of exasperated incredulity.

“Why can’t you understand that? I don’t want anyone but you! I love you so much that I forced myself to let you go, but of course I couldn’t stand not knowing you were safe or leaving you alone for long.”

“So I came back every night despite withstanding the torment of knowing that you’ve been going out to see other men! You think that’s been easy for me?!”

The guilt and stupidity that showered upon you made you feel like you wanted to peel open your skin and to swallow scorching stones. You had been a selfish idiot doubting Jason, and mistakenly, you’d hurt him too.

“I’ve only been going on dates to try and move on from you, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t.” You confessed, feeling inexplicably abashed. You were so greatly embarrassed you wanted to go into eternal hiding, faltering as your eyes averted from his. But Jason couldn’t allow it. He ensured that you looked at him as he tilted your gaze with the grip he had on your cupped face.

“Jay, I’m so sorry. You have to understand I was hurt.”

Jason listened, but the only way he could think of responding was by sealing his lips to yours in yet another kiss. However, unlike the others you’d shared tonight, this one was so incredibly soft and vulnerable and sweet that it made your knees buckle. It was so much that it’d almost made up for all the months you’d wasted with him and replenished your shattered heart. You didn’t want to pull away at all. Neither did he, really, but someone had to.

“I’m sorry too. If I was good boyfriend to you, you would have never had to doubt me.”

“Jason-”

“One chance,” he murmured, thumb caressing right beneath your cheekbone. You didn’t even think of hesitating as you nodded. “I’m never letting you go again. I won’t give you a reason to question your trust.”

And with a terribly pretty grin that you hated to admit you’d missed, Jason vowed. It was such devastating words that you felt he’d mended you completely and that you’d heard the fervid beating in your chest once more.

Summary: Your husband doesn’t tolerate your bratty antics. So this is what happens when you push too hard.

CW: Mature content (minors DNI) , age-gap, spanking, punishment, mean!simon, slight degradation, condescension (sort of)dumb reader

Simon wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up with a wife so much younger than him but somehow, he did.

However, what he definitely did not expect was all the baggage that came with the age gap —your high energy, defiance, and the bratty streak. Everything that clashed with his discipline and love for order.

There was no denying it. Your relationship, and soon married life, had been the greatest test of his patience. You seemed to have a talent for stirring up chaos which often landed you in trouble—left, right, and centre.

Today was no different.

Already burdened with phone calls and exhausted from work demands, the last thing Simon needed was another round of your endless attitude.

He tried to be lenient. Patient. Tolerant. He let the sass slide, indulged your needy games, and even warned you multiple times to behave.

But of course, per usual, you didn’t listen.

So when you pushed that final button by waltzing into his office for the sixth time in an hour, complaining about yet another small detail and demanding this and that, Simon snapped.

His hand slammed down on the desk with a sharp crack as he barked with a raised voice.

“Enough!”

Your brows knitted as you were slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst, yet your plump lips couldn’t help but to curl into the defiant pout Simon both hated and found irritatingly attractive.

“But—” Habitually, you opened your mouth to interject.

“Come here.”

His voice was hard and commanding as he stared you down with a look you knew all too well. “Now, before you worsen this for yourself.”

Despite being stubborn most times, you weren’t stupid enough to test your husband in moments like these. So holding back a snark remark, you bit your cheeks and stormed over to where he leaned slightly in his chair. Waiting.

“Now bend over the desk.”

Your breath hitched. You knew what was to come. You were no stranger to Simon’s method of ‘correcting’ your attitude.

“Si, wait—”

“Shut the fuck up! I haven’t got time for your games so bend over or I’ll do it myself.”

If you were smarter, you would’ve swallowed your pride, lost the dumb behaviour, and complied. But you were a brat after all.

Before you could even react, Simon had you bent over his desk with a strong hand pushing on your lower back to keep you against the cold surface. His other hand lifted up your mini skirt, evoking a small shudder as he stood behind you.

You could feel his presence even though you couldn’t see him. You could hear the mocking scoff as he ran his rough hand up your soft thigh then over the curve of your ass with deceiving attentiveness.

“Prancing around with this tiny scrap of a skirt, pouting your lips and running that mouth. Were you trying to distract me, hm?”

Shivering at his touch, you whined, “No …I wasn’t.”

Smack.

Simon’s hand landed on your ass with a sharp swat and he didn’t even attempt to soothe the reddening skin as he delivered several more. Swift. Brutal. Unrelenting.

“Lying.” Smack. “Straight.” Smack. “Through.” Smack. “Your.” Smack. “Teeth.”

Every spank was hard and unforgiving, drawing out pathetic whimpers as your fingers dug into the wooden desk. Eyes framed by damp lashes and with tear stained cheeks, you cried out, “I’m sorry, Si. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, and he sounded nearly strained. Just nearly.

“Don’t give me that. You tell me you’re sorry but you’ll go ahead and repeat the same damn mistake the second it’s over. Isn’t that right?”

“N-no…” Though it came out too much like a question.

Smack.

“You’re never satisfied. Always wanting more, always complaining. Trying to drain my fucking wallet but that’s not all, is it? You just can’t be fulfilled”

Smack.

“What happened to that good little girl you were when I slid that ring on your finger, huh?”

Smack. Smack. The loud noises of his palm meeting skin resonated through your weakened whimpers and broken pleas. Pathetic.

“You’re my wife so I expect you to act like it, you hear me baby? Not a spoiled, fucking brat.”

At this point, you were too hazed to respond right away. The sting on your skin was too great and you felt overstimulated, sobbing and drowned in tears, regretting ever crossing him but you just could never help yourself.

Smack. And this one was slightly harder than the others.

“I expect an answer when I ask a question.”

“Gonna be n-nice.” The attitude was fading away and a hint of genuineness replaced your usually whiny voice that was only good for making demands. “I promise.”

And for a moment, you felt Simon pause, his large hand rested in a splayed position across marked skin.

“Are you? Or are you only pretending because your ass is getting sore?” Once again, you needn’t look back to see the sceptical raise etched onto his brows. “Because if you are, it’ll be more than just being unable to sit next time.”

You sniffled a little, rasping out another small “sorry”, at last pliant and listening.

“Hmm.”

Finally, you were rewarded with few caresses of his thumb across your skin. Simon leaned down, his free hand swiping some stray hair away from your shoulder before he muttered low words in your ear. Then it moved a little lower, barely grazing against your shamefully soaked panties.

Late night thoughts but…

Imagine Simon who was instantly enchanted by you the second you walked onto base wearing an innocent smile and a short skirt barely doing anything to hide your soft, plush thighs. You looked so out of place with your baby pink colours as you flounced amongst the tall, strong soldiers and pecked your dad, his Captain, on the cheek with a small grin that flashed your dimples. He groaned quietly, thankful for his balaclava to mask his slipped-up noise though the print of his hardened erection straining against the materials of his pants was undeniably prominent. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Later when his Captain, Price, called him over for a proper introduction, he played the facade of a restrained gentleman and even reached out his hand for you to shake (which he would’ve never offered to anyone else). Secretly, he just wanted to see the difference of your smaller palm swallowed beneath his larger, calloused hand, already mentally picturing the image of what your manicured nails would look wrapped around his cock.

“Princess, this is one of my best man. Meet Ghost,” introduced Price. Simon swore he saw your lashes flutter as you gazed up at him, tinted cheeks with pretty plump lips pulled into a small shy smile he couldn’t wait to corrupt.

“Call me Simon, love,” he drawled, his voice a deep yet velvety timbre which made an odd flutter erupt in your stomach.

Who could’ve blamed you when you ended up pinned against the wall in Simon’s room, your legs wrapped around his thick waist, his large hands cupping your bared ass as he rutted into you like a bitch in heat. He just seemed so nice….and if your dad had trusted him to bring you safely to your temporal stay after dinner, then why couldn’t you?

How convenient was it that his room was right besides yours? It wasn’t that he forced another soldier to swap with him for the night by abusing his authority.

A goodnight kiss grew heated when his gentle hold on your cheek turned into a grip around your neck, pulling your smaller frame against his toned muscles, letting you feel how much he’d been craving you the entire time since your arrival.

“You feel this, love? Can you feel how hard you make me, little tease?”

“Gonna be a good doll for me and help me feel better hm?”

His face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling in your sweet scent and wishing he could engrave the sound of your soft whimpers, desperate moans and pleas into his mind as he stretched you out so good…pounding roughly into your tight heat with long, hard strokes that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, digging faint crescents into his broad shoulders.

Sure, your cervix may have been bruised for the next few days, but the ache was worth it for the most life-changing marathon of blissed orgasm he gifted you. Lengthy fingers thrusting and curling against your sweet spot, his balaclava lifted high enough to attach his lips to your swollen clit, sucking and licking so expertly and tongue-fucking you into oblivion. Lapping at you to taste your sweet nectar after he brought waves of pleasure to wash over you again and again, then again.

“Little pussy so fucking warm and tight, mhm,” he groaned almost gutturally, “made to be fucked…made to be mine.”

“Know what this means? You’re tied to me now…forever mine to use and spoil and love…”

Simon delivered a small, firm squeeze to your neck when you responded with an incoherent mewl and not words.

“Say it.”

“…ah..nghm…” you were a whimpering mess, mind completely hazed with pleasure at this point, legs shaking, “…yours to use…and spoil and…love”

“That’s right, that’s my good girl.”

With one final thrust of his hips and a low grunt, he released, filling you to the brim with warm, spurts of his cum and ensuring you were stuffed full with his sticky seed.

Now that Simon had a taste, he would be crazy to let you go. He was a man of many things but never a liar, and indeed, he’d intended to keep his promise of making you forever his.

Much to his satisfaction, the next time you returned to base after a few months, you were more than just a visitor for his Captain but his girl…

And when you ran up to kiss his cheek, he noticed, the slight curve of a bump forming beneath your soft pink sundress.

——————

“What was that sugar? Say it again.” Etc.

Say it Again

Pairing: Soft dom Finnick x shy fem!reader

Notes: Dom/sub themes, voice kink, praise kink, p in v, slight corruption kink, Finnick Odair is such a munch. Minors DNI

A/N: I haven’t had the motivation to write and I’ve still got a few requests in my drafts, I’m really sorry if they’re yours. Hope I hadn’t lost my touch

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Finnick was your first everything- first relationship, first kiss….the first one to break you in- and quite frankly, he intends to be your last too. He loves how he gets to be the only one to teach you all of these things- to be the person who corrupts your innocence, explores different ways to give you pleasure, and work your body better than you can.

Finnick is always sure to praise you during sex to ensure you’re fully comfortable with him. Sex was never really an intimate or enjoyable thing for him before he had met you, so Finnick wants to make sure you are given the experience he never did. More than anything else, Finnick would like to hear your be more vocal during sex.

Although you occasionally make a few noises here and there, letting out small moans and soft whimpers (because let’s be real, it’s impossible to keep quiet when the Finnick Odair is railing you), you often try to conceal your sounds because you feel a bit insecure about your voice. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick would like nothing more than to hear you moan out his name and to tell him how good he makes you feel. If only you know the ego boost it would give him and how his heart would race at a single comment.

This night, Finnick has you laid out on your shared bed, the mattress soft yet supporting underneath you two as he thrusts deeply into you at a steady pace. His warm mouth is latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, sure to leave love marks on your skin as one of his hand reaches for your clit to trace lazy circles. The sex, as usual, is phenomenal and your back is arched in pleasure, legs folded as they hang over his sculpted shoulders.

A few soft whimpers fall from your mouth involuntarily at the undeniable pleasure you’re feeling and you bite down on your bottom lips to control your noises like always. Finnick cocks his head, his mouth momentarily detaching from your neck as his lips form that signature smirk which you are so familiar with. You’re confused as of what Finnick is doing but you’re way too cockdrunk to care. His thick and lengthy cock is pounding into you so well, grazing over your cervix with every thrust and you’re surprised that it isn’t bruised by now.

Finnick grabs a pillow from the side of the bed and swiftly places it under the small of your back as he lifts you up and places you back down with ease. Your mouth falls open and you forget about controlling your volume, a loud moan mixed with a gasp leaving your mouth. The pillow has put you in an even better position, raising your hips slightly so that each of Finnick’s thrust is angled to hit that spongey spot inside of you which makes your toes curl in pleasure and back arch further.

“Hmm honey, you like that, huh?” Finnick teases after seeing your reaction, and you can only nod as you attempt to babble something incoherently.

“F-fuck…Finny, s-so good” you mumble, your mind in a state of haze right now.

Hearing your words and the nickname that just fell out of your mouth, Finnick’s eyes immediately light up and an even bigger smirk replaces the former one on his face. Although you don’t realise in the moment that Finnick has bitten his lips at your comment, you sure can feel his reaction to it as his thick cock pulsates in arousal, causing your warmth to tighten around him, feeling every vein and curve.

“What was that sugar?” Finnick chuckles both smugly and proudly, “say it again for me”

“I-I….”

Only then do you realise what you’ve said and your cheeks immediately turn pink, a flustered look appearing on your face which Finnick finds so, so adorable. You struggle to find the right words to say, only blinking shyly as you attempt to cover your face, but Finnick pulls your hands away as he stares down at you with the same smirk.

“Don’t be shy honey, your whimpers and moans are music to my ears……besides, your voice turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

Finnick whispers into your ears, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, ‘butterflies’ Finnick calls them. You blink, not knowing that that is what Finnick feels about the sounds you make, and it makes you feel better.

“Now..I’ll ask you again, sugar, what is it you called me, hmm?”

Finnick hums as he cocks his head with a small teasing smile, waiting for an answer.

“…Finny. I called you Finny..”

“Good girl.”

God save Finnick Odair from the things he is going to do to you.

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“Yank my hair like that again I won’t touch you for a month.”

PLEASEEEE

Self-Control

Pairing: Dom Finnick x whiny fem reader

Notes: oral (fem receiving), punishment, hair pulling, slight degradation, overstimulation, fingering, edging

A/N: OKIE DOKIE so actually, in my head, Finnick loves it when you tuck on his hair but for you I’ll change it a bit, also I slightly altered the idea of the request ;)

Minors DNI

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Your shared bedroom is set alight by the pearlescent moonlight shining in through curtain gaps, a light scent of sea salt and musk whiffing through the air from Finnick. The scent is intoxicating; you’re sprawled out on the ruffled sheets with Finnick buried between your legs, your loud moans echoing through the room.

The two of you had attended a party earlier on, and from the lack of attention you received from Finnick who was too busy socialising with the other victors, you decided to tease him in hope that he would finally satiate the immense desire you felt. You tried to pull many tricks-softly running your fingers down his arms, tugging on his sleeves needily, and batting your eyelashes at him knowing he can’t resist.

“Honey, I know that you’re needy tonight, I’ll give you what you want when we go home, I promise,” he’d say at your attempts to break him, but you’d whine with a slight pout, unable to wait any longer.

Finnick’s last straw was at dinner when you decided to run your hand up and down his thigh underneath the table cloth, circling that sweet spot of his through the fabric of his pants. Finnick is a patient man, and you knew you were in deep trouble when he sent a stern look your way instead of his usual sweet ‘not now’.

This is how you end up with your legs wrapped around Finnick’s head, hands tugging on his golden blonde hair, as he continues with his assault on your clit. His tongue skilfully flicks and draws patterns on your swollen clit as he fucks you with two thick fingers at a torturously fast pace. You feel your climax building up for the fourth time tonight but is denied that sweet release as Finnick purposely pulls his fingers out before plunging them in your heat again.

You mewl as your climax is ripped away from you once more, feeling so overly stimulated. Your face is tearstained, whining as you accidentally pull at Finnick’s hair a little too hard, making him groan whilst his mouth is still attached to your clit, sending vibrations through your body.

“Careful now, sugar,” Finnick warns as his teeth gently grazes your clit as a warning, making you whimper quietly.

“I-It’s too much…I said I’m sorry Finn, I’ll never do it again…please let me come” you beg, sounding so desperate as you attempt to grind on his face, earning some friction.

“Please-”

Finnick lifts his head up from your throbbing heat, scoffing as he tilts his head at you, his fingers continuing to thrust deeply as he stares you in the eye with a mocking look.

“I expected better than you honey, but you acted like a desperate whore. I told you I would give you what you wanted when we came back home but you were just such an impatient little slut, weren’t you?”

Finnick sneers, his pearly white canines flashing as he does so, “you really can’t go an hour without riding my fingers huh?”

His head dives back between your legs, angling his fingers, and he finds that sweet spot once more which makes your back arch in pleasure. He adds his tongue once more, circling and tracing figure eights on your clit which makes your body shudder and mouth agape.

Finnick has been edging you for nearly an hour, denying you releases after releases, and the overstimulation you feel is almost painful. Every single touch drives you insane and the sensitive you feel is certainly not helping.

Finnick suddenly switches to sucking your clit instead, and you have to use every strength in your body to stop yourself from coming right then or else the punishment would be worse. You forget about Finnick’s warning from earlier, and you accidentally yank at his hair, a raspy growl falling from his lips.

“What did I tell you huh, sugar?”

“Mark my words honey, tug at my hair like that again and I won’t let you come for a month, let alone touch you. It’s time to teach you some self control.”

You whimper at his words. If only you had listened.

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Notes: slight suggestive themes, brief mentions of sex, but other than that, this is pure fluff <3

A/N: Can I just begin by saying how grateful I am about the attention my last drabble received?!! It’s incredible :)

Possession and Jealousy Drabble

Finnick Odair whose love language is physical touch and acts of service. Finnick Odair who is constantly touching some part of you, whether that’s having his hand on your thigh or having your pinkie fingers linked together to assure you that he will always be by your side. Finnick Odair who wraps his muscular arm around your waist at parties and places a hand on the small of your back so you always feel supported. Finnick Odair who’s always there to offer you a shoulder to cry on and a body to cuddle until your heart’s content. Finnick Odair who loves to have sex with you, not rough fucking but to make love to you, because he enjoys the intimacy of it and thinks that action speaks louder than words. Finnick Odair who constantly peppers you with kisses, anywhere and everywhere, unafraid of PDA. Finnick Odair who sneakily loves to show more physical touch in public because of his possessiveness and he enjoys the jealous look of other men that walk past.

Then, Finnick Odair who believes that acts of service, other than physicality, is the best form of loving. Finnick Odair who refuses to let you lift a finger when he’s around. Finnick Odair who provides you with princess treatment and runs around helping you to complete your tasks. Finnick Odair who offers to cook your favourite meals and bake your favourite treats when you seem upset or in need of a cheer-up. Finnick Odair who suddenly becomes a professional masseur when you tell him that you feel sore, and Finnick Odair who writes you the cutest notes which makes you fall in love with him all over again.

TW: slight choking, hair pulling, dirty talking, p in v, dacryphilia kink, slightly mean!finnick

Finnick Odair is the smuggest, cockiest man ever, and nothing boosts his ego more than when he fucks you speechless.

He’s pounding into you from behind, his strokes deep and rough as his large hand wraps around your throat, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure which has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He’s hitting all the right places effortlessly, his tip continuously grazing that spot which has your legs trembling and pussy clenching around him, feeling every vein and detail of his cock.

“F-fuck…’m making you feel so good, aren’t I, honey? I can feel the way your sweet pussy is clenching around me so tightly”

You can’t see his face but you can sense that smug smirk on his face, and when you don’t answer to his question, he angles his strokes to thrust even deeper, a loud moan falling from your mouth.

“I’m fucking you so good right now you can’t even speak huh, sugar?” Finnick asks with a chuckle to which you reply with an incoherent babble.

Finnick continues to thrust into you in that angle and soon you feel your knees buckle as your climax approaches. Finnick senses that you’re close by the way you clench around him again and he brings a hand down to your heat, drawing circles and figure eights repetitively on your clit with his long fingers.

“Finn- f-fuck..I..I”

You struggle to form a sentence, the immense pleasure fogging your mind as your body melts in Finnick’s touch. You mumble as a tear rolls down your cheeks from the overwhelming sense of pleasure…bliss.

Finnick smirks at your reaction, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging it back, forcing you to look him in the eye. You whimper as he slowly increases the rhythm of his thrusts, attentively studying the way your chest rises and falls and mouth falls open. Your eyes water even more as he speeds the pace and a Finnick wipes away your tears with his thumb, kissing your tear-stained cheek.

“I want to look at you when you come on my cock honey….so keep your pretty little eyes open, hmm?” Finnick hums, and you can only respond with a nod as you babble some random words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, my love.”

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

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