rosalietodd013

[rosalietodd013]

I just love him

Matters of the heart

MDNI

t.w. Jason is a lil forceful, non-con if you squint (maybe idk). Tiny lil bit of degredation

wc. almost 2k

My first published filth 🤭. Thinking about writing a part 2 cause why not.

Jason Todd pushes you away because the last person he trusted had lured him into a warehouse and he lost his life.

But it’s something you can live with. Family is a foreign concept, love even more so. It’s enough for you, (or so you tell yourself), the heat in the sheets, the way he always just so happens to be there when things go wrong on your patrol. However, it does make things all the more harder on select jobs, such as this one.

“Sionis is holding an auction.” The words are enough to make your stomach churn as you gaze up from the freshly brewed mug of coffee on the stained wooden table. It’s far too early to be talking about this, you think. Even if you were content with the detached nature of your loose friendship, sometimes you can’t help but yearn for the simpler things. Sometimes you wish he’d ask you about your dreams, even if they were all nightmares. Sometimes you wished he’d tell you about his dreams. Something. Anything to make this feel less like a mutually beneficial arrangement, like there was more to you than just your body. “Black tie. Buy a matching dress. Events tomorrow.”

He lifts the mug to his own lips, blue gaze watching you, fixed as you gaze down at the sudoku puzzle on the back of the week old, coffee ring stained paper. You’d completed the puzzle in under three minutes. You’re not sure why you left the paper out. Maybe it was a faux attempt at normalcy. What would normal people leave lying on their table?

“What are they auctioning?” You give Sionis the benefit of the doubt, your own gaze flickering up at the brood of a man in front of you. But as soon as the words part your chapped lips a twinge of regret settles in your chest.

You don’t miss the way his jaw ticks, the subtle swallow as he lifts the mug to his lips and downs the rest of the coffee. He fails to meet your gaze as he stands, stalking out of the kitchen. The regret morphs into something more— a rock that settles uncomfortably. His silence was telling enough. Some things were better left unsaid.

Seemed it was far too early to be talking about this.

“How are we getting in?” You ask, lips pursed as you scooch forwards in the passenger seat, pulling down the sun visor to touch up your red lipstick. “I’m not scaling the building in a dress.” You add idly over the hum of the engine, your gaze shifting to the side to steal a glance from him. The butterflies erupt instantly. The way he leans back, legs parted, one scarred hand resting leisurely on the steering wheel while the other rests against the gear shift. That concentrated look on his face, the slight crease in his brow.

As you speak, the corners of his lips quirk up somewhat. As if he didn’t know what that little smirk did to you. “It’s a surprise” he challenges. He’s in far too good a mood considering the circumstances. A part of you resents him. It’s a dark, ugly vehement hatred that courses through your veins. He looked good— far too good. You roll your eyes, a scoff parting your lips. “I’d rather it not be a surprise.” His smirk is only there for a moment before he pouts, casting his own gaze towards you momentarily as he pulls up in a parking spot. “What? You don’t trust me?”

It’s a tease and you know it, but your reaction is visceral. Another scoff and narrowed gaze towards him as you shove the sun visor back up. The action is far tougher than it needs to be. Teasing was not uncommon between the two of you. Maybe if the situation was different you wouldn’t be so fired up. Maybe if he saw you for more than your body— maybe if he loved you back, appreciated you, trusted you— maybe if he didn’t look so damn good you would’ve played along with the tease. “I’d trust you with my heart.” You’d scowled in the heat of the moment, your words filling the air of the ‘67 Ford Mustang that he’d borrowed from Bruce. “You’re the one incapable of trust.” It’s a low blow, and it makes you feel sick as you step out of the car and slam the doors shut.

It’s hard to keep those previously buried feelings below the surface. Desperation is an ugly look, but to hide it is akin to letting the ants under your skin relish in tearing you muscle from bone.

As you approach the entrance of the inconspicuously looking office building, Jason approaches by your side, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. The doorman is a large built man. His gaze scans the two of you up and down. Jason nods, reaching into his pocket and handing over a slip of paper. The doorman moves aside and returns the nod.

Inside the building, you can hear the sound of low jazz reverberating off the walls of the hall. At the end is another double door.

“I trust you.” Jason had spoken up after a beat of silence as you approached the door. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.” He steps forwards, opening the door for you. You can feel his gaze as it settles in you, scanning. Reading. You don’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. Not when he was playing stupid. As if the trust on a mission was mutually exchangeable with trust for matters of the heart. “You know that’s not what I meant, Todd.”

He introduces you as his girlfriend. A made up alias to accompany Jason Todd, one of the many heirs to the Wayne Empire. He’s a cocky bastard for using his real name, but he can’t help himself. Not when Jason Todd is still technically dead, or so the official certificates and records state.

The night continues on, but you still can’t shake the tension. Maybe it’s the visceral anger in your veins. The longing. How easily Jason slips into the role of loving boyfriend for a mission but can't commit to taking you on a real date. To ask you to move in. To trust you. To shower together and do all that domestic bullshit you convinced yourself you were happy without.

And so it isn’t any surprise when Jason drags you into a bathroom on another floor of the building. How his grip is tight on your bicep as he pushes you past the door of the women’s bathroom and follows in behind you. “Fuck you.” You’d scowled, stumbling into the small room. The anger of being manhandled bubbles over, it ebbs and flows like molten lava. It was a series of events that’d led to this moment. Your refusal to kiss Jason back— your refusal to smile, to wrap your arms around him.

“You have three fucking jobs.” The raventte seethes, backing you against the grimy sink counter, caging you in with his large body. You reach out to grab his hand, fully intending to break the digit he’d shoved in your face, but he’s faster. Grabbing your wrist in a swift movement, his finger still remains up. “To stand there, look pretty” another finger “and at least pretend to be in love with me.”

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” You scowl back, swatting his hand away instantly. “To pretend? Is that all I am to you? Something to use to get whatever the fuck you want?” A scoff and a venomous sarcastic laugh from you, you watch the way his eyes twitch.

“Not worth the real effort, to trust but suddenly worth enough when it comes to a job?”

He looks lethal. Gaze ablaze and teeth grit as he stares at you. “You really think it’s that easy for me?” His voice is low, controlled. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’m pretending.”

The kiss comes all at once. Releasing his hold on your wrist, one hand wraps comfortably around your neck while the other clasps the back of your head. It’s disorienting and your mind is blank with the ferocity of his lips. Teeth clashing against teeth and tongue against tongue, as his hand moves from the back of your head to your ass, his big hand cupping the supple muscle beneath the veil of the dress. For a moment you’re mesmerised. Caught in the heat of kissing him back before you return to reality. Shoving him back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You scowl, your breaths heavy and labored. His reply is almost instantaneous. “Shut the fuck up.” Grabbing you by the arm he turns you around, forcing you to face the mirror. He’s against you in a moment, the fabric of his shirt and jacket against your back, the bugle of his cock rubbing against the cleft of your ass. “Shut up and listen.” He grits out again, his hand wrapping around your throat, pulling your head against his shoulder. “Because you clearly don’t get the fucking hint.”

One hand slides down, wedging between you and the edge of the sink, deft fingers find themselves slipping between the slit in the dress, toying with the lacy material wedges between your slick folds. “Fuck.” He breathes out, dragging the material up against your clit. You jolt against his hand with a sharp breath. "Jason--" you scowl softly, a halfhearted attempt as your gaze fixes on his in the mirror. “You think I’d go around fucking any desperate slut?” He rasps in your ear, fingers rubbing against your clit. He grins at the mewl that parts your lips at the sudden contact.

“You think I’d come balls deep inside that sweet fucking’ pussy of yours if I didn’t trust you.” Pulling the slick fabric aside, he plunges a digit in as if to prove his point. The sudden action makes you gasp, your body jolting again at the sudden intrusion as your hand grips his own. “If I didn’t love you?” The confession is raw and knocks the air out of your lungs as you squirm against the mass of muscle behind you. A string of soft pants and moans part your lips as your eyes transfix on him in the reflection. His hair is tousled, black strands a mess, and the white patch hanging over his face. “J-Jay—“ you pant. The hand around your neck tightens, constricting your breathing for just a moment. Enough to get his point across without words.

“Think Id wake up with you in the morning if I didn’t love you?” He continues, a grunt as he flicks at your clit, his body trapping yours. “I make your fucking coffee in the morning for fucks sake.” He pulls his digits out of your dripping cunt, grabbing the fabric of the dress he throws it up over your back, exposing your bare ass and what could be seen of your bright red thong.

“Fuck,” Jason curses softly, taking in the sight as he lets go of the hand around your throat, bringing it down hard against the supple skin of your ass. You jump at the sudden contact, a moan of surprise. He looks at your reflection in the mirror. Wide eyed, struggling to process the brunt of his words and touch.

A hand settles on your hip while the other fidgets with his flyer. “So here’s what’s going to happen.” He states as he wrangles his cock free from its confines, pumping the head, spreading the glistening precum over his length. He steps forwards, pressing the length between the cheeks of your ass, rubbing the glistening slick over you. “I’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you.” Pulling the g-string aside, he slides his cock into the fabric, rubbing it between your folds and slick.

He makes a small sound of satisfaction as you moan at the contact, your back arching. “Gonna fill you with my come on the sink of this public bathroom like a whore.” Another teasing rub to drag a long whine from you. “Then when I’m dripping down your legs, we’re gonna go back out there and finish this job so I can take you home.” He leans forwards, hand sliding down to push his cock into your wet heat with a single movement. “And fuck you again.”

[rosalietodd013]

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ part 2 to the reader being oblivious to satoru’s feelings fic!! i hope everyone enjoys this <33

you’re convinced satoru’s just being sweet.

he’s always like this, right?

warm hands that guide you through crowds, big and steady on your back. a comforting weight, even when he’s teasing—especially then. sunglasses pushed into his hair just so you can see the full effect of those ridiculous eyes when he talks to you, because he knows it makes you flustered. the way he leans in close, crowding into your space, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

you’ve gotten used to the gifts.

mochi, when you’re having a bad day. tiny trinkets, rings and earrings and little keychains shaped like cartoon cats, always with a wink and a “it screamed your name, i had no choice.” drinks handed to you before you even ask. your favorite snacks tossed into your bag when he thinks you’re not looking. and once, when you had cramps so bad you couldn’t stand, he showed up at your apartment with a heating pad, painkillers, and an entire cake.

he’s just naturally affectionate, you tell yourself. he’s like that with everyone. probably.

so when he murmurs, “you should come over tonight,” while absentmindedly spinning the cheap silver ring on your finger—one he bought for you at a night market, after holding it up to the moonlight and saying, “it’s cute. and so are you”—you don’t think anything of it.

you smile. soft and oblivious. “raincheck. i’ve got laundry.”

he exhales like you just told him you’re moving to the moon. throws his head back, clutches his chest.

“you wound me,” he groans.

you laugh, patting his sternum. “you’ll live.”

he will. barely.

but the thing is—he’s been escalating.

and you haven’t noticed.

the hand on your lower back? now it’s on your waist. solid and steady. sometimes he rubs slow circles there with his thumb when you’re talking to someone else. sometimes he tugs you just a little bit closer like it’s instinct.

and he glares now. subtle but sharp.

the last time a waiter called you “sweetheart,” you watched satoru’s jaw flex like he was deciding whether or not to vaporize the man on the spot.

you’d laughed, breezy and unaware, and said, “he was nice!”

“mm,” satoru hummed, face flat. “too nice.”

you’d brushed it off. friendly jealousy, maybe. he likes being the center of attention, that’s all.

and then

you laugh at one of his jokes—an actually funny one—and satoru immediately leans in. all hushed and curious, nosy and close. “what’s so funny?” he asks, mouth right near your ear, like he’s trying to memorize your expression, like he’s trying to one-up suguru in real time. as if the idea of you laughing at someone else makes his blood run hot.

he always does that; hovers at your side, follows your laugh like it’s gravitational, touches you like it’s reflex, like he can’t help it. pinkies brushing. thigh against yours. knee bumping yours under the table.

and he’s always grinning at you. that look that’s not really a grin at all, not when you really look. it’s too soft at the edges and too full of something that aches, like he thinks you hung the moon and then forgot where you put it.

and you, bless your trusting, sweet, catastrophically oblivious heart—

you think it’s friendship.

“satoru’s so friendly today,” you say to shoko, a little laugh in your voice. you’re scrolling through your texts as you say it, rereading the photo he sent you this morning: a blurry selfie of him in bed with the caption wish you were here. also i’m hungry.

shoko lights her cigarette with a slow inhale, stares at you for a beat too long.

“oh my god,” she mutters, dragging a hand down her face. “you’re actually insane.”

you blink. “what?”

she stares harder. “you think he texts me good morning, sweetheart? you think he buys nanami rings and calls him pretty? he hasn’t looked at another person in months, and you think it’s friendship?”

“he’s just like that,” you mumble. “he’s—he’s affectionate.”

“yeah,” she says flatly. “affectionate with you. you’re either playing dumb or you’ve got the worst romantic intuition i’ve ever seen.”

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

you think about the way he looked at you last week, eyes soft and half-lidded, smile slow as molasses as he nudged a bento box toward you and said, “you’ve gotta eat, sweetheart. you forget sometimes.”

you think about how he always has gum when you need it. how he puts your favorite songs on in the car without you asking. how he once took off his coat and put it over your shoulders even though he was only wearing a t-shirt underneath and it was snowing.

you think about how your heart does something strange when he says your name.

you think—

oh?

—

you’re at his place. the sky outside is dark, blue-tinged and quiet, windows fogged with the contrast of the night air and the warmth inside. satoru’s apartment smells like takeout and that clean-laundry scent that always clings to his hoodies, and you’re curled up on the couch like you belong there—like you’ve always belonged there.

you’re half-sprawled, blanket around your shoulders, pizza slice in one hand, the other tucked under your cheek. your legs are stretched out lazily, bare feet nudged under satoru’s thigh like it’s second nature. and maybe it is. it’s just how things are with him. warm. easy. close.

you’re rambling—talking about someone at work who said something stupid in the break room, your voice light and animated, hands gesturing with every beat of the story.

he’s nodding, chiming in now and then, tossing you smiles like little offerings to keep you talking, but he’s not really listening: he’s watching you.

the curve of your mouth when you’re amused. the way you lick a little bit of pizza sauce off your thumb without thinking. how your nose scrunches when you talk about people who annoy you. the gentle swing of your foot where it taps against his knee.

you’re so close. and so soft. and so oblivious.

you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

his pulse has been hammering in his throat since you showed up in that stupid oversized hoodie—his hoodie, technically, the one you stole a month ago and never gave back—and he’s been biting his tongue ever since.

you giggle at something he says—something dumb, he doesn’t even remember what, his mind is always dizzy when your attention is on him—and toss your head back, all loose and happy with comfort, glowing with the kind of warmth that only ever shows up when you’re not guarding yourself.

you mumble it into the air, a soft laugh under the words, “you’d be such a good boyfriend.”

and satoru’s entire brain just… short-circuits. he stills.

you don’t notice at first. not until the silence stretches longer than usual and the warmth of his smile fades from the edge of your vision. you blink. turn your head slowly.

he’s staring at you like you slapped him with a brick. his mouth slightly open, his blue eyes wide, glassy with disbelief.

“…what?” you ask, voice quiet.

he shifts, leans in, slow and deliberate, elbow braced on the back of the couch. his body curls toward yours like a question, a confession waiting to happen.

his eyes are low-lidded now, not unreadable but aching. his mouth curls into something that might be a smile, if you weren’t so close, if you couldn’t see the frustration in it—something tired and raw and almost relieved, like he’s been holding his breath for months.

his voice drops, soft and husky and low.

“i would be the best boyfriend,” he says, every word sinking deep. “i’ve been auditioning for the role for a while now.”

you blink. dumbfounded. “what?”

he laughs—but it’s quiet. breathless. sharp around the edges, like he might shatter if you press too hard.

he reaches for you then. his hand rises with a kind of certainty that’s born from holding back too long. thumb and forefinger slip under your chin, tilting your face toward him. he holds you like something precious, fragile, his.

his other hand comes up and brushes against your mouth. thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip. not forceful—just curious. like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. or maybe he’s daring himself to take the next step.

his voice dips again, quieter now. intimate, only for you to hear.

“you think i flirt like this with everyone?” he murmurs.

and your mind races.

the good morning texts. the rings. the food. the way he always touches you. the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.

you try to speak, you really do, but nothing comes out — just the faintest hitch of your breath.

your heart is pounding.

and it hits you, suddenly a surface of the cleanest water. he’s in love with you. he’s been in love with you.

your lips part. “oh.”

his eyes flick up. meet yours. and for the first time all night, he smiles for real.

slow, a bit smug and so tired: tired of pretending. tired of being patient. tired of calling you baby like a joke when he means it like a promise.

“yeah,” he breathes. “oh.”

your fingers curl around his wrist—the one still holding your chin, still grounding you, like you’ll float away if he lets go. he leans in slowly, carefully. his breath fans across your cheek, the sharp tip of nose brushes yours.

“say the word,” he whispers, voice like silk and flame, “and i’ll stop pretending i’m not already yours.”

your heart stutters.

you’re still a little behind. still breathless with the realization of it all, but you’re not stupid. you lean in, just a little, curl your fingers tighter and you say it,

“you’re mine.”

and he beams like the sun cracking through a storm, like you just gave him permission to breathe. not a question. not a tease. not careful, not anymore.

“finally,” he grins, and then he kisses you.

it starts soft—so soft it barely feels real. a sigh against your lips, a secret being shared.

his mouth brushes yours gently, like he’s afraid to break you. his hands are on your face, thumbs stroking slowly along your cheeks, holding you in place like you’re something sacred. something rare. something his and you are his. even if it took you this long to notice.

you inhale sharply when he kisses you again, firmer this time. he tilts his head, fits his mouth to yours like he’s done this in dreams a thousand times and memorized every angle. every pause. every way your lips could move under his.

his lips are warm, plush, a little chapped at the corners from the cold outside. he tastes like cherry soda and leftover pizza and something distinctly him, something you couldn’t name even if you tried but already know you’ll crave forever.

your fingers thread into his hair—so soft, still slightly damp from his earlier shower—and he groans, low in his throat, like you touched a live wire.

his tongue brushes along your bottom lip, slow and teasing, and your whole body responds before you can even think. heat pools low in your stomach. your hand tightens in his hair. you tilt your chin up, give him more.

he takes it. eagerly.

the kiss deepens, turns messy. not rushed, but hungry—feels as if he’s trying to make up for all the time you didn’t know and to rewrite every second you spent calling him “just a friend.”

his hand slides from your face to your jaw, down to your neck, fingers curling loosely, his thumb pressing lightly under your chin to tip your face up to his.

“fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth, between kisses, breathing hard now. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”

you try to answer, but he swallows the sound when he kisses you again—slow and deep this time, tongue sliding against yours, coaxing a tiny whimper out of you that makes him shudder.

he pulls you closer, arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. your knees end up over his lap somehow, your chest pressed to his, every point of contact warm and electric. you can feel the way he’s trembling slightly— he can’t believe this is really happening.

when he finally pulls back—just barely—it’s only to breathe. his forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged, his lips flushed and kiss-bitten.

you’re still curled around him, dazed, heart hammering against his ribs. he smiles, slow and reverent. his eyes are so full of it—so full of you.

“say it again,” he whispers. “that i’m yours.”

your hands are still in his hair. your lips still tingling. you breathe out, soft and certain now.

“you’re mine, ‘toru.” his eyes flutter shut.

“god,” he murmurs, kissing you again, quick and dizzying. “you have no idea how badly i needed to hear that.”

he kisses you like he’s catching up. he’s stitching every silent want and unspoken word into the shape of your mouth.

as if he’s been holding the moment back in his chest for too long and now it’s spilling out of him. like he wants you to feel everything he’s ever tried to hide in a pet name or a lingering glance or a text that said “goodnight” when what he meant was “i love you, stay safe, come home to me.”

his hands cup your face, your fingers slide into his hair. the blanket falls from your shoulders and neither of you even notices.

because it’s him. because it’s you. because it was always going to be this. you just didn’t know it until now.

(you do.)

[rosalietodd013]

me staring at the search bar trying to decide which fictional man I’ll read about tonight:

[rosalietodd013]

Why is this so true? 😫

How I feel reading smut while being scared of intimacy in real life

[rosalietodd013]

❌

[rosalietodd013]

Yeah he would unfortunately

“Try me”

summary: your ex might still be hopelessly in love with you. The only problem? He’s crazy:)

a/n: wrote this at 2am and literally had so much fun maybe I’ll do a part two hehe^^

“You want me to beg, sweetheart? I’ll beg. Say the word.” Jason’s voice doesn’t hint at the desperation you can clearly see in his eyes.

He’s in your kitchen again. After he broke up with you. After he left you behind for weeks, wondering if he was even coming back this time. After he did come back with red rimmed eyes and a stubble on his jaw. After he left—over and over and over fucking again.

You cross your arms, despite the way your heart races. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. Though his hair is longer, as if he couldn’t be bothered to cut them off, you usually did that for him anyway. Jason Todd doesn’t know how to take care of himself, it used to be your job. And you loved doing that. You loved… loving him. But you had to stop before your love for him swallowed you whole.

Because Jason Todd is a complicated man. Because you could’ve spent your whole life loving him and it still wouldn’t have been enough to silence the demons that sit in his head.

“It wouldn’t matter.” You tell him, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m with someone else now, Jason.” His name is still soft on your tongue, but it doesn’t change anything else. You are with someone else now. Someone who stays. Someone calm and steady and… normal. Someone who works a day job and sleeps in at night. Someone who doesn’t disappear for days. Someone without scars and ghosts. Someone… almost boring.

“Oh please,” Jason’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife, “we both know the boyfriend thing is temporary. Let’s stop pretending.” You sigh, you know Jason well enough to know that the swagger he’s showing off is to hide whatever vulnerability he’s feeling at the moment.

“I’m not pretending. I’m very serious, Jason. I’m happy with him.”

Jason steps closer, blue green, glowy eyes fixed on you in a way that used to make your breath catch. It still does. He walks closer and closer until your face almost hits his chest and you have to look up to face him.

“Jas—“

A hand comes up to brush against your cheek. You stiffen. “I miss you,” it’s whispered to you. Jason’s eyes searching your face for something—anything. Gone is the cool guy act, and before you is the Jason you so clearly remember. He’s all soft touches, and teary eyes, lips parted in wonder that he’s not sure this is actually happening. That after everything, he’s touching you again.

“I’m sorry,” another whisper. He leans in until the familiar scent envelopes you whole and you breathe him in like you’ve craved to for so long.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I fucked up. So, so bad. And I don’t know what to do to fix it… I… but I can, okay?” His palm moves to the back of your head when Jason drops his forehead to yours. Your breaths mingling. “God… just… just don’t do this to me.”

He’s so close that for a moment, you almost falter. All others thought float from your brain except the ones your body whispers to you. You could kiss him right now, fill your mouth up with the familiar taste of him. You could—

You won’t. You can’t.

Because Jason isn’t promising you wonders for the first time. You shake your head, pushing him back with a hand on his chest.

“No. No… there’s nothing you can fix. It’s over, Jason. We’re over.”

His jaw clenches, “the fuck we are.”

You stare at him, scoffing. You really can’t believe this guy sometimes.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“You know damn well what I mean!” He yells, hands flying in exasperation. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want this guy! This—this fucking trust fund asshole—what’s his name again? William? Walter? Fucking British twit…” you just stare as Jason rambles on. You can almost smell the hatred and jealousy coming off of him. But more than that, is fear. A silent terror. One that says he’s lost you for good this time.

“Jason—“

“Bet he sleeps through the night, huh? Does he fuck you like I did, baby? Does he make you scream like I did? Does he make you feel good en—“

“Stop it!” Your voice lands, loud and clear and Jason—for once—shuts up. You push both hands through your hair. “Do you hear yourself? This is crazy, Jason! You left me! You refused to step up! You—I loved you! I loved you so much and what did you do with that?! You threw it out the fucking window. You—“

“I know!” His scream cuts through, eyes glassy and red, “I know! You think I don’t wish every single day that I could go back and change things? Stop you? Chase after you and beg for you to fuckin stay with me?! I ruin things—that’s who I am! That’s what I do! But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. And you can hate me—you should hate me but god, please don’t push me away. Just say it. Say the word, baby, and I’ll do anything. Anything to win you back.”

You sigh. He is practically begging now, and you can see what the sleepless nights and guilt has done to him. How miserable he looks.

But it’s not your job to fix him. It’s not your job to hold the broken parts together and get yourself cut open in the process.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

You watch the way his expression breaks. Like his chest cracked open, like this will be Jason Todd’s last straw. His breaking point. And you hate yourself for it, but for once, you need to choose yourself.

Jason walks back to the window quietly. His whole stance is rigid and wrecked at the same time. He pauses near the ledge, back turned to you and then, barely a whisper but you hear it loud and clear.

“I’ll kill the fucker.” Your heart drops. You don’t even know if he’s talking to you or himself.

You step forward, eyes wide, heart thumping.

“Jason. No. You won’t.”

His fists clench, the leather jacket creaks with the movement of his shoulders.

“Try me.” He mutters and then he’s jumping out of your fire escape, disappearing into the lifeless, rainy Gotham night.

[rosalietodd013]

Hydration is part of aftercare so he’s doing great in my book 😘

oh um

pretty basic hc's abt dick and jason (separate) under the cut??? mdni! 18+ horny police

between the two, dick is surely the freaky one!! I'm talking kinks and wilderness here — are you open-minded??? dick's into biting, risks and toys. he is a performer, especially during sex. definitely a brat, switch. gets off to sharing your fantasies with each other. I'm not sure, maybe he's been so sexualised by the fandom and it's affecting my judgement, but to me??? he really is a horny freak. mirror sex, quickies (bonus points if semi-public or public ahh), TEASING. oh he's heavy on that one. to him, sex is a form of art and an essential part of a relationship. he needs having you satisfied, so he'll essentially adapt to your tastes. but the kinky dick will always remain in the way your lovebird marks you up and literally devours you :> hehehehe. loves to show off, hence the passion for mirror sex!! he wants to look good during it, THE PERFORMER!!! ahh. AHH. and when he's exhausted you&himself, he turns back into your sweetheart. aftercare king <3

and jason's far from him, honestly. while the constant stress can make him rough in bed, he loves letting loose. it's usually either you taking control during sex, or him being a soft dom — "lazy vanilla sex" we all chant in unison!!!!!! I imagine it being really really warm nights, with him sick of his responsibilities and you tired of yours, sloppy and slow in bed, no rush, just the need for mind-numbing release. jason can be freaky, but it's not what he chases. having sex with him is like exchanging courtesies, if I can say so?? a repetitive cycle of you taking turns pleasuring each other (yum). neither is left out + both are fucked right into much desired rest. when it's been a really long day, jason tends to manhandle you and bury himself in between your thighs. he needs his jaw to hurt to forget about all the idiots from earlier. and when he's not going down on you, he loves having you on top of him (he told me I know it for a fact). jay isn't the best with aftercare, but he's always making sure you're hydrated afterwards !!

how easy is it to tell I'm starving for some love?????

[rosalietodd013]

i wanna fuck u like an animal !?!? or Jason Todd drabbles pt 2

he's so primal, he acts like a dog in heat, opening the door of the shared apartment with his body as heavy as always. Jason leaves the helmet of his motorbike next to the door and he goes inside the bedroom. you're laying there with your eyes almost closed watching tv. "come here" you mumble and he takes his clothes off, leaving him only with his boxers. he sits next to you and gives you a little kiss on your forehead, witch becomes a kiss on the nose, and then on the lips and suddenly you're making out with him, desperated.

you're wearing your cute little pajamas and he quickly strips you from it, he makes you sit up with his strong arms and sit you on his lap pressing his bulge against your ass, his hand travels down your body to where your panties are and he plays with your pussy covered with the soaked fabric. his big digits move your panties to the side and he inserts two fingers inside of you, you are much smaller than him, and you don't really realize until moments like this were his palm is cupping your tit and his huge hand cover your pussy completely. or when he finally decides it's been enough teasing and he takes his dick out, bullying its way inside of you, your cunt always suck him so good. "fuck, you're so tight" you don't know how many times he has said that in the relationship period, but he's always amused that your cunt keep being as tight as the first time.

and he tries not to be, but he's really mean, slapping your clit, not letting you cover your mouth when you're creaming all over his cock, holding your neck to tight you can hardly breathe or pulling your hair so you stare right at his lustful eyes.

he could fuck you every day and still have his balls heavy enough to fill you up everytime !!

requests and reposts are appreciated :3

[rosalietodd013]

MDNI. Jason Todd x f!reader. language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty), he slaps your ass once. — WC : 550

Jason loved nothing more than when you were angry. Always the one to be so sweet, so composed, so willing to give all too much to others than he thought they deserved.

But when you were pissed? Nothing made him harder.

The way your sharp nails pierce through his rippling pecs, leaving waning crescent moons in their wake nearly had him rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“S-shit—,” Jason lets out a guttural groan, fingers digging into your hips. “Slow down, pretty, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Shut up.” Letting out a low snarl, you don’t stop bouncing on his sensitive cock, letting its thickness fill you up and drive out any anger still simmering in your body. It was the only thing that could calm you down, let you feel in control as you used your boyfriend's all too eager cock. “Feels too good.”

“Fuck, they really pissed you off, huh?” Jason starts bucking his hips up in time with yours, so tempted to overthrow your pace and fuck you into the mattress like you deserved, clearing out every thought in your head. Maybe the next round. “Gonna fuck the anger out? Just needed my dick, baby?”

One of Jason’s hands glides up your back, the palm cooling down your burning skin, bringing your chest closer so he can suck on your tits. You continue to ride him with reckless abandon, the squelch of your cunt showing just how much you needed this — needed him.

“Yes!” Your hiss turning into loose whines. There’s no telling how many times you’ve come now, more than happy to let you burn off the steam that clouded the rest of your emotions. 

Jason couldn’t stop, his hips beginning to desperately drive upwards. He’d only be satiated once your bodies tumble into a heap of exhausted limbs, chests heaving as your mind begins to float down from the pure heaven he’s about to bring you.

But what he wasn’t prepared for was your teeth sinking into the flesh of his freckled shoulder, biting down on him in a viciously pleasurable way that made him see stars.

“Jesus fuck!” He pants as you lick and kiss the spot now imprinted by you. Roughly grabbing your hips, he slams you down against him a few times before coming deep inside you, the unexpected climax spurring on your own. Giving a few shallow thrusts as the hazy daze of desire washes over him, he pinches your nipple with a wild look in his eye. “Need you to do that again, sweetheart.”

“Bite you?” Your voice is breathless, still tinged with a burning anger he knows won’t leave you for at least another round. But the tone of surprise wasn’t lost on him, making him let out an airy chuckle into the crook of your neck. “You liked it?”

Jason grinds his cock in you, still painfully hard as he ensures his cum stays deep inside of you — right where it belongs. It twitches with interest at the memory of your bite, the thought of you biting him again was unbearably intoxicating.

“I fucking love it.” Jason gives your ass a quick, encouraging swat, driving his hips up again in hopes you’d leave your mark all over him. “Give me another and I’ll make sure I’ll fuck every thought right out of that pretty little head of yours.”

[rosalietodd013]

something something Jason fucking you in full red hood gear; helmet and all something something him making you lick and suck his gloved fingers after they’ve just been inside you something something the cold metal of his helmet pressing against your ear when he speaks in that modulated voice “you like it, baby? you like being fucked like this?” as he pounds into you harder and harder and harder

[rosalietodd013]

yea miss girl imma need you to elaborate on the post about jay’s freak ass loving a bitch who runs from the big dick she was begging for

jason “don’t run from the dick” todd LOVES runners.

he thinks it’s the most precious thing in the world, the way you beg and plead and whine for him to fuck you, only for you to gasp and writhe attempting to close your legs because the pleasure is overwhelming.

it’s funny, to him at least, because he hasn’t even started going as fast as he wants yet, but you’re already running from that third leg of his.

“nah, nah nah,” he’ll chide, a cocky smile blooming across his lips as he grasps for your hips, “ain’t this what you ask for, mama? don’t run from it.”

he’ll push your legs back open, humming as you huff and whine, barely able to get a word out. his thumb finds your clit, gently rubbing circles over it as you moan. “see, i just wanna make you feel good, baby. you’ll let me do that for ya, hm?”

and you’re nodding, pathetically babbling the word “yes” over and over as his hips rock into yours at a punishing pace.

[rosalietodd013]

Thoughts about Sylus.

Sy wants you to be yourself - to let go of any personas you've meticulously curated so feel secure around others.

He'll push you to gain self-confidence, push you to feel that you can say or do anything and he'll still be utterly devoted to you.

Sure, he may not understand what you do or why you're interested in something, but he'll gladly listen to you and indulge you.

If you really like something or are fixated on something, he'll gladly use his card to buy you anything you want.

He'll love you no matter who you are.

It's safe to assume Sylus would rather die than not listen and devote himself to your true self.

You're safe with him. Sylus doesn't care if you like something that's frowned on or judged by others or if you're not neurotypical or anything in between.

He's yours and he wants you to be confident and yourself with him.

[rosalietodd013]

Planned Escape: When You ‘Run’ From It LADS

Synopsis: You can run from it, but are you ready to face the consequences?

Warnings: Free use, overstim, faux sympathy, dumbification, Voyeurism, thrill of being caught, teasing, degrading, praising, these boys are jealousss.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Xavier

Xavier is like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Your snuggly little guy, playing the part of a perfect co-worker and neighbor!

Until he has you pinned under him, knees to your chest in a mean mating press.

“You just had to smile like that at Nero, hm? You truly cannot be so stupid, to think you wouldn’t end up in this position after that.” All you did was thank Nero for reports you’d asked him to obtain.

But Xavier didn’t like that.

And the punishing thrust to your cervix was proof of that.

“M’ ngh! M’ sorry! I can’t-Xav I can’t-“

You try to squirm away but Xavier only shakes his head at your pathetic attempts. He grabs both ankles in a single hand, bends your knees just so and-

You are sobbing, feeling him so deep in your tummy it almost hurts to breathe.

“Now be a good girl and I won’t treat that cute little updo like a cum rag. Don’t run again.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Rafayel

Rafayel was obsessed with your body in a nearly obsessive way. Especially when it came to how you bowed and cried under his care.

He has both of your arms pinned behind your back, his arm looped around them for leverage. The gold plated mirror in his studio showed each time his cock slipped in and out of you.

“I’m gonna pain this later, put it in my private collection so I have something to keep me company when you’re gone.” The sentiment would be sweet, if your thighs weren’t twitching from overstimulation.

The head of his cock sits a punishing pace against the wall of your cervix and you try to find leverage with your feet to escape.

Rafayel hates that.

He bends you forward, cheek pressed into the cold marble and drills into you with barely controlled lust.

“Aw cutie, I was giving you a good show! But I guess even the best muses need molded.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Zayne

Zayne has finally snapped. Between the bratty behavior and the audacity you had to stick your tongue out at him during his presentation to the board, you were done for.

Bent over his desk, he didn’t care that someone could walk in, he didn’t care that you were drooling over his stethoscope that probably costed more than your rent.

“Is this what you wanted? A strong, independent young woman to be degraded like a common whore?”

Why yes, it was.

But Zayne wasn’t letting up on his solid thrusts that sent you spiraling.

He’s ripped a 4th orgasm from you and the pretty polished nails (that he paid for of course) scratched at the wood of his desk.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, lifting your face off the desk to growl into your ear.

“You don’t get to run from this punishment. Take it.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Caleb

Oh our poor sweet Caleb.

He wasn’t being very sweet right now.

How could he be? He’d caught you talking to Gideon a little too long for his liking. You were giggling all cute and shit, asking Gideon to take you on a ride in HIS aircraft!

So Caleb, being a sweet boyfriend, gave you a ride!

Well, that ride was his cock. His feet planted on the mattress while he held you in place with strong hands. His balls slapped the crevice of your ass and you were pretty sure his goal was to drive a hole straight through you.

“Smile at me like you smiled at him. Cmon Pips, cheeseeee!” His faux kindness made your eyes water. You tried to find purchase on his chest to push yourself off but Caleb swatted your hands away.

“Hands behind your back, soldier. You wanna act like a Barracks Bunny, I’ll treat ya like one.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Sylus

Sylus didn’t have to be fast or harsh with his punishment. But he was always thorough.

You’d ran off without his permission on a mission, yet again.

You returned to the N109 Zone covered in bruises. Now, after your wounds were tended to, he was lounging on the chaise sofa, rolling his hips into you from behind.

It would’ve been so sweet and gentle, if he hadn’t already wrenched 3 orgasms from you with his cock alone.

“Sy-“

His hand clamps over your mouth, index and middle finger grabbing your tongue. You drool over his fingers even as you try to push back on his hips to escape that feeling of lightning in your bones.

Sylus growls into your ear, taking his spit soaked finger and giving a warning slap to your flushed cheeks.

“Don’t ever run from me. I’ve chased after you for years, I’m not letting you get away now.”

[rosalietodd013]

This is so me ☺️

Me searching x reader fics after gaining a new fictional crush after watching a movie/serie

[rosalietodd013]

Spoiling

Summary: when he suddenly gets spoiled by out of the blue

A/N: or when he becomes a devastating victim to DC's horrible writing (iykyk)

Dick:

It isn’t expected but whole-heartedly welcomed nonetheless as he chuckles at your administration. 

“Every part of you makes you attractive, you know that? Every part of you is so damn attractive. Well, except for the occasional emotional constipation and being cunning towards everyone close to you.” 

The last part he isn’t sure if that was meant to be an insult though he lets it slide as you continue peppering his face with your lips. 

When you had gone out, he was going to watch T.V. in the living room, making himself comfortable on the sofa. However, almost as if you turned around the second you got there, it wasn’t long at all for you to walk back through the doors, crawl into his lap, and cradle him in between your hands. 

“Aw, if I didn’t know better, I would think someone missed me already.” 

“Don’t get too full of yourself, mister.” He yelps, more out of over exaggeration when you pinch (and lightly in fact which you argue later) his cheek.

Letting out a whine, he turns his head and presses his lip against your hand. 

“But, you still love me.” Giving you the puppy-eyes all while he says that. 

“Yes, every part of you.” 

He grins and pulls you down with him, returning the favor you showed him while listening to your laughter ringing sweetly in his ears.

Jason:

He doesn’t know what’s possessing you, but he’s not complaining.

“You’ve never done a single wrong in your life.” 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not crazy whatsoever.” 

“Right.” 

“Your face is worth more than a billion bars of gold to get punched with a nasty right-hook.”

“O…Kay?” 

Earlier, you said you were going to go to the bookstore to pick up the books you ordered only to come back in less than five minutes, huffing and puffing. He was planning to do some light reading as he waited for you on the couch, not at all expecting himself to get pulled into a hug. Well, just his head anyways, his cheek feeling the fabric of your shirt while your arms wrap themselves around him. 

And as much as he would like to know what exactly had happened to cause you to be like this, he didn’t plan asking anytime soon. He’s currently enjoying all his senses being engulfed in you with the occasional kisses you press into the crown of his head while telling him how you love all of him in every way and will support him unconditionally. 

By the time you're finally done showering him in your affection, he kisses you on the lips and cuddles you for the rest of the day, spoiling you back as his blood runs warm and his heart pounds loudly in his chest from his love for you.

Tim:

He doesn’t know how much more he can handle. Your thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks, your eyes clear and trained solely on his that makes him wonder if you’re peering into his sole. That? All of that isn’t even the worst part.

“I really don’t get it. You’re pretty, you like to skateboard and play DND, you have a social life with a bunch of civilian high school friends including Sebastian Ives, - did I already mention you’re pretty? Like pretty, pretty?” 

Yes? No? How’s he supposed to know when his brain is currently fried? No thought, all the heat and high blood pressure getting to him because his face is too close for comfort to yours. 

Plans to confront you regarding what had happened while you were out flies out the window, mentally noting away the hints you’ve given starting from your abrupt return to you holding him as if he’s the most precious being in the whole world. Not that he dislikes it, he’s more concerned that if he asks you to do it every day,  it’ll cause you to end up getting exhausted and no longer have the energy to continue. 

Reminding himself to check the security cameras later, he lets himself melt and become puddy while letting a happy hum when he catches you now rambling how he’s your pretty. 

“Exclusively yours?” Eyes squinted, lips curled up into a love-drunken smile as he wraps himself around you, snuggling into your warmth.

[rosalietodd013]

wedding night with husband sylus where he takes his time undressing you as if you’re the most precious gift in the world (you are) while he looks at you with pure love and devotion, but once you’re completely naked under him, his desire turns into pure greed, and all he ever wants to do is fuck you hard and raw until you’re crying and begging for him to stop and your cunt is sore and overflowing with his children—

[rosalietodd013]

i wanna lick whipped cream off sylus’s monster cock