rosalietodd013

[rosalietodd013]

I love men who are so sweet to their darling but so cruel to them in bed, that it hurts. But it hurts so good.

I love men who lose themselves in you, when nothing exists, just the oblivion and the chase for nirvana between the two of you.

I just love men who blow the cigarette smoke away from your face but are the ones to blow it right into your already watery eyes when he's deep inside, just to patronize you.

I just love men who'll make anyone who makes you uncomfortable see god, yet his hands are the ones who feel you up in ways no less than lecherous. It's straight up sick, perverted and nasty.

I just love men who wreck their sweetheart just to be the one to put them back together again. You're their dolly afterall...

[rosalietodd013]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You sit beside Xavier on the bench in the park, watching people pass by as golden afternoon light filters through the leaves. The air smells of fresh-cut grass and distant food carts. A stylish couple walks past, the woman’s laughter musical, her confidence evident in every step.

“I wish I was pretty like her,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, your fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden bench.

Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. His brows furrow deeply, eyes widening just a fraction.

“What... did you say?” he asks, his tone remaining even despite the clear puzzlement in his eyes. He shifts his body toward you, giving you his full attention.

“Nothing, just...” you gesture vaguely toward the retreating couple. “Sometimes I don’t feel very attractive. Especially around people like that.”

Xavier stares at you for a long moment, looking genuinely bewildered. The silence stretches between you, broken only by distant children’s laughter and birdsong.

“I don’t understand,” he finally says.

You start to explain, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his unwavering gaze, but he gently places his hand over yours, the warmth of his palm surprising against your skin.

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head slightly. “I mean I don’t understand why you would think that. It doesn’t make sense.” His thumb traces a small circle on the back of your hand. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly. “I’ve always thought so.”

Coming from Xavier, the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“You don’t have to say that,” you protest weakly, looking down at where his hand covers yours.

Xavier shakes his head, leaning closer. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. I don’t...” he pauses, carefully selecting his words, “understand how you can’t see what I see.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the pressure gentle but grounding. “Every time I look at you, I...” He struggles with the words, clearly moving outside his comfort zone. A faint color touches his usually pale cheeks. “From a purely objective standpoint, the way you look—” He stops, frustrated with himself, and takes a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant to say.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a rare vulnerability there. “What I mean is that you’re beautiful. In every way that matters. Your smile when you’re excited about something. The way your eyes light up when you talk about things you care about. How your whole face changes when you’re lost in thought.”

He reaches up with his free hand, hesitating just shy of touching your face. “I’ve remembered every expression you make. I’ve studied them all.” He looks away, embarrassed by his own earnestness. “You’re beautiful. Please, don’t think otherwise.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, as if relieved to have expressed something he’s held inside for too long. He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the afternoon.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

You’re helping Zayne organize his medical journals in his office as late afternoon shadows stretch across the polished floors. The pristine space feels both clinical and comforting—much like the man himself.

As you reach up to place a heavy volume on the top shelf, you catch your reflection in the large window overlooking the city. The bright lighting does you no favors.

“Ugh,” you mutter, tugging self-consciously at your clothes. “I look awful today.”

Zayne glances up from his desk where he’s been meticulously updating patient files. He sets down his pen, the soft click audible in the sudden silence. His eyes, usually so focused on his work, now study you with that penetrating gaze that seems to see beneath surfaces.

“What brought this on?” he asks, his voice filling the room.

“Nothing specific,” you say, turning away from your reflection. “Just... some days I don’t feel pretty, that’s all.”

Zayne stands. He gestures to the leather chair beside his own. “Sit.”

You comply, watching as he leans against his desk, arms folded across his chest. The setting sun through the windows casts half his face in shadow, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

“Are you overthinking again?” he asks directly, but there’s no judgment in his tone. “Or did someone say something to you today?”

“Just overthinking, I guess,” you admit, fidgeting under his steady gaze.

He nods once, as if confirming a diagnosis. “I see.” He’s silent for a moment.

“Beauty is subjective,” he begins. “But if you’re asking for my opinion...” The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. “You’re more than perfect. Inside and out.”

When you start to protest, he raises a hand to stop you.

“I don’t make observations lightly. You know that.” His eyes hold yours. “I’ve studied human anatomy for years. I’ve seen thousands of faces.” He leans forward slightly. “None of them affect me the way yours does.”

The admission seems to surprise even him, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone so carefully composed.

Suddenly, he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small chocolate wrapped in gold foil. It’s from the exclusive chocolatier across town—the one he pretends not to favor.

He places it in your palm, his fingers lingering against yours longer than necessary. “Here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Sweet for the sweet.”

Before you can respond, he leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. The momentary closeness allows you to catch the subtle scent of his aftershave mingled with antiseptic.

“Now,” he says, straightening himself, “wait for me to finish organizing these journals so we can go home. I’m thinking of dinner at that place you like on Fifth Street.” He turns back to his desk, but not before adding, “And no more nonsense about not being pretty. I won’t have the person I care for most questioning their worth.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

You’re sitting on the private beach adjoining Rafayel’s seaside studio, watching him add final touches to a vibrant seascape painting. The ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The air tastes of salt and fresh breeze. Seagulls circle overhead, their calls mingling with the gentle lapping of water against sand.

Rafayel stands before his painting, completely absorbed in his work. Paint splatters decorate his rolled-up sleeves and there’s a smudge of blue across his cheekbone. The wind tousles his already disheveled hair as he captures the dance of light on water.

A group of beautiful people laugh further down the beach, their perfect silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. You glance down at yourself, then back at them, feeling suddenly out of place in this picturesque setting.

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough for this place,” you whisper, the breeze carrying your words away—or so you think.

Rafayel’s hand freezes. He turns to you slowly, paint-speckled fingers stilling on the canvas, his expression transforming from focus to complete disbelief.

“What did you just say?” His usually playful voice has an edge to it now, sharp as broken glass.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” you reply, regretting having spoken at all.

“No, no, no,” he sets his palette down with a clatter on the small table beside him. “You don’t get to say things like that and dismiss them as ’nothing.’” In an instant, he takes a seat on your side. “Did someone say something to you?” he demands, looking around the empty beach as if searching for culprits. “Which human do I need to have a word with?”

“No one said anything, Rafayel. It’s just how I feel sometimes,” you admit.

“That’s even worse! Your own mind betraying you like this?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “This is an emergency. A catastrophe of the highest order!”

He grabs your shoulders. “You are an absolute masterpiece. Do you understand? A masterpiece. I know art. I create art. I live and breathe beauty in all its forms. And you—” he pokes your cheek lightly, leaving a tiny dot of turquoise paint, “—are the finest creation I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

When you try to look away, embarrassed by his intensity, he gently tilts your chin back. The setting sun reflects in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold. “The ocean is jealous of your depths. The stars envy your brilliance.” His voice softens, becoming almost reverent. “And I would swim across every sea before I let you believe you’re anything less than stunning.”

He wraps his arms around you suddenly, clinging like a child. “Now don’t say such ridiculous things again. It offends my artistic sensibilities.”

He then stands, pulling you up with him. “Come on. We’re going to watch the sunset together. I’ll show you how I see you.” He places a brush in your hand, his fingers lingering. “And maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t look away.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You stand before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in Sylus’s penthouse suite, overlooking the sprawling N109 Zone from stories up. The city stretches below like a circuit board of neon and shadow, vehicles and people reduced to tiny moving points of light. The luxurious room behind you is bathed in the soft glow of artfully placed lamps illuminating his collection of rarities—collections plucked from across time and space.

Catching your reflection in the darkened glass, superimposed over the glittering cityscape, you murmur without thinking, “I don’t know why you keep me around. I’m not even pretty.”

The room falls silent. You hear Sylus set down whatever gem he was examining, the soft clink of crystal against metal followed by his steady steps as he approaches.

“What an odd thing to say,” he remarks, his voice silky yet sharp as a blade, “because you’re entirely incorrect.”

You turn to find him watching you, head slightly tilted.

“Did I hear you questioning your beauty?” A smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes remain serious, almost stern. “After all this time with me, you should know very well that I have exceptional taste.”

He closes the distance between you. He places his hands on your waist, positioning you both so your reflections are visible in the window. His gaze in the reflection holds nothing but admiration.

“Do you think I surround myself with anything less than perfection?” He gestures to the rare treasures adorning his collection shelf—items worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. “Do you imagine I would waste my time on someone who didn’t captivate me entirely?”

His fingers trace your jawline, feather-light. “Hundreds of rare gems, ancient artifacts, priceless paintings—I collect only the extraordinary, the unique.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “And yet, not one of these treasures compares to your presence and beauty.”

When you start to protest, he places a finger gently against your lips. “I don’t tolerate self-deprecation from the one person in this universe I genuinely cherish.”

He turns you to face him fully now, both hands cupping your face with surprising tenderness from someone so powerful, so used to taking what he wants. Your disbelief must show on your face because he chuckles softly.

“Your beauty is not up for debate, not even by you. Challenge me on anything else if you wish, demand whatever your heart desires—but on this matter, I will not yield.”

He steps back after brushing a kiss against your forehead, apparently considering the matter settled. “Now come here and tell me what you want instead of what you think you lack. That’s much more productive, don’t you agree?”

He gestures to the plush sofa. “Sit down and tell me about your day today. I haven’t heard you talking about it.” His expression softens further. “Let’s talk about that instead.”

As you join him, he casually drapes an arm around you, pulling you closer. “And tomorrow,” he murmurs against your hair, “I’ll show you exactly how beautiful you are to me. I have something special planned—something worthy of you.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

You’re absently scrolling through your phone as you accompany Caleb while he sorts through Fleet reports in his home office. The space reflects his dual nature—military precision in the organized shelves and structured workspace, but touches of warmth in the photographs and mementos from his DAA days. The soft glow of multiple screens illuminates the room as rain patters against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Caleb sits at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews security protocols. His uniform jacket hangs on the back of his chair, sleeves of his standard-issue shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms. Despite the late hour, his posture remains perfect—the Colonel, always on duty.

Glancing up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflective surface of a dormant monitor. The unflattering blue light highlights every perceived imperfection.

“Ugh,” you mutter under your breath, running a self-conscious hand through your hair. “I look terrible today.”

Caleb’s head snaps up from his work. “What did you just say?” There’s a sudden alertness in his posture, as if responding to a threat.

“Just that I’m not looking my best,” you shrug, trying to downplay it, surprised by his intense reaction. 

Caleb stands, his chair rolling backward. His eyes narrow as he scans the room like he’s searching for enemies in a combat zone. “Who put that idea in your head?”

The protective edge in his voice takes you by surprise.

“No one, Caleb. It’s just how I feel sometimes.” You set down your phone, touched by his concern even as you try to ease it.

His expression darkens for a moment before he walks towards you. “Hey,” he says, crouching beside where you’re seated and taking your hands in his. “Look at me.”

When you meet his eyes, they’re filled with the same warmth they held when you were both kids, before the Fleet, before the incident���before everything changed.

“I’ve watched you grow more beautiful every single day since we were kids,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The calluses on his palms catch slightly against your skin. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to be with you.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. Rain continues to drum against the windows, creating a private world just for the two of you.

“You’ve always been the prettiest person in any room to me. Always will be. Nothing compares to coming home to you.”

His smile returns. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of people try to catch my eye over the years. None of them even came close. It’s just not possible when my mind can only think of you.”

He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “So no more of this ‘not pretty’ talk, okay? Or I’ll have to issue an official declaration about how gorgeous you are, and that would be really embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Based on this request.

[rosalietodd013]

Girl say it louder for the people in the back!

You’d think after years of complaints people would not describe the “reader” as white or implies she’s white … like I get you can write a character how you want but damn you not gon get much views from everyone if you write the reader as only a certain race. You want her to blush? “A smile creeps on her face as she looks away” want her to get bruised? “As he continues to mark her (or whatever) she knows that later she’ll bruise” her hair? “She does her hair in a simple way — not too fancy or too much (or the other way around)” like why is it so hard for yall to be inclusive??? Like unless it’s not x reader don’t make your character a certain way because it’s not really x reader then is it ??

[rosalietodd013]

New You

Sylus x thick black reader (anyone can read though)!

Warnings: SMUT, downbad Sylus, reader is a virgin, not good at writing smut, rough sex, no mercy from Sylus, all came from my fantasies in my head about Sylus. Let me know if I miss anything.

Words: 1.4k

A/N: This is part 2 of my story! Like I said before, I am not thick or chubby! I just thought of this because I thought it was cute considering how much Sylus loves squeezing and poking MC. Please let me know if you think it is wrong of me to write this! I don’t want to offend anyone!!! I also wrote this with nails on 😭 so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me and if there’s any lore that sounds wrong, let me know! This isn’t proofread, and I’m using Grammarly to help correct this .. I’m also not the best writer.

Sylus had just got done eating your pussy for the 6th time that night, making you cum back to back with his mouth and fingers, he wasn’t letting up… he wasn’t giving up. He knew you were a virgin so he wanted to prepare you good enough to take his dick—that and because he couldn’t get enough of how your pussy tasted—he was trying to make sure you were ready for what he was about to put down! All that preparation had him fucking his hard-on against the bed to relieve some pressure… It didn’t work. 

“Please, Sy!” You cry out, “No more! I can’t take it!” You begged and pleaded that he’d stop attacking your over-sensitive pussy. You’ve been begging all night, but this time he's finally giving in to your pleas, “I’m just getting you prepared, that’s all.” Surprisingly, he wasn’t out of breath, you, on the other hand, though… You were out of it, breath ragged and mind out of it. “For what?” You breathed out, eyes opening for the first time since he started eating you. 

You both made eye contact, but his eyes were low, and his pupils were completely dilated. He moved his eyes to his hanging cock that was overly leaking with precum, his tip looked like it was going to explode if it didn’t get any release, your eyes followed in pursuit. 

Your eyes damn near bulged out of your head, his dick was huge and angry. You tried moving back, but the headrest stopped you. You were shocked and nervous. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you say, worried, no way in hell your tight hole would be able to take that. “Oh, but it will,” he says so surely, “no need to be scared, kitten, I’ll take care of you,” he was now stroking his dick at a slow pace, gripping you by your waist to pull you back down, “I’ll go slow,” he whispered to you, breath tickling your ears. 

He pushed his cock into your overly fucked out pussy lips, rubbing it slow and teasingly, you both moaned as he hit your clit, picking up his pace and spreading his arousal all over your lips, your head dropped back on the pillows, and your eyes went crossed at how good the feeling was. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, “you’re so wet, can’t imagine how the inside feels,” he exclaimed. “Please, fuuuck, please let me put it in,” he was begging, trying to hold his composure but your pussy was driving him crazy. He grabbed your face, making you look into his eyes, trying to get you to give in. 

Ultimately, you did, nodding your head, slowly pushed his tip into your hole, you screamed breathlessly, you were hyperventilating… his tip was stretching you so far, “shhh my love,” he said, trying to ease your pain. “Just breathe slowly for me,” he was kissing you now, on your lips, then all over your face. 

You were crying, the pain was overwhelming you, trying to get your breathing straight. He wanted to move so badly, but he knew he couldn’t, so he grabbed your wrists and held them above your head, not knowing he was almost cutting your circulation off because of how tightly he was holding them. 

He slowly pushed his tip in and out, trying to get you used to the feeling. You were a whimpering mess, but you didn’t stop him; you wanted to take it… to get used to it and be able to handle the pain. “Fuck, I-I c-can’t,” he was stuttering, your pussy was squeezing him so good that he couldn’t take it, “I’m gonna bottom out ok? Let me just sink it in and I p-promise I won’t move,” he was practically begging you to let me him stick it in all the way, he wanted to feel all of you and you let him. 

Nodding your head, he let go of your wrist and bear hugged you, “Do it fast, ok?” You asked, tears dripping from your eyes, you wanted to get the pain out of the way—perhaps that wasn’t a good idea—you wrapped your legs and arms around him and he stuffed his head into your neck, whimpering “mhm” shakily as he hurriedly pushed his dick all the way in. 

You screamed out the most blood-curdling scream as you clawed at his back, you started to push at his waist, but to no avail. You were a whimpering and crying mess while he was breathing hard, squeezing you into his body. The way your pussy was tightening around him, he had to bite into something—and that something was your neck—you screamed again pulling at his hair but he didn’t move, he didn’t even flinch. 

You both stayed there for what felt like an hour, you got your breathing under control, and soon the pain started to feel good. Sylus still didn’t move though, he kept his promise and suffered through the torture of what a good pussy like yours felt like. 

“Sy,” you said, still trying to catch your breath, “you can move now.” Sylus let go of your throat—licking it after taking such a deep bite—and looked you in your eyes, trying to make sure he heard you right. After looking into your eyes, you nodded. Sylus took that confirmation and started moving, but at such a slow rate that you both thought you’d die right there. You wanted him to move faster, but didn’t know what to say so you grabbed his ass and pushed him further in, trapping him with your legs. 

That sent Sylus over the edge. He closed his eyes and started picking up the pace. You felt so good, he was losing himself, picking up the speed even more, going faster, harder. All he could focus on was how you felt and how you were making him feel. This was the first time in centuries he’s felt you, and he didn’t know if it was going to be the last, so he sure as hell wasn’t wasting this opportunity. 

He gripped your thick thighs and pushed them to your chest. This new angle had you weeping and shaking, a moaning mess. All you could hear was skin slapping and moaning throughout the room. He was fucking you at a ferocious pace, knocking the wind out of you. 

He was fucking you up the bed, you tried to run but he wasn’t having it, “Stop. Fucking. Running.” After each word, he slammed into you harder more faster. He was growling like a wild animals and fucking you like one too. 

Your bonnet came off, your braids falling around your head, sticking to your sticky skin, but that wasn’t enough for him. 

He used his evol to flip you over, forcing you into a doggy style position. He slammed into you once again, ramming into your tight pussy. He was losing his temper, fucking you like you were nothing, pulling your braids, arching your back into a dangerous position. He was smacking your ass, gripping your plush waist so he could ram into you faster. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot how good my sweet little kitten pussy felt.” He was growling, you didn’t comprehend the sentence, you were too fucked out. 

Pushing at his waist to get him to slow down, but didn’t give in. He used his evol again to bind your wrist to your back. “Sylus, please!” You screamed, but he didn’t respond. He was too pussy drunk to hear you. He let go of your hair and proceeded to grab you by your throat with both hand and fuck you even harder. 

You were on the verge of cumming again and he wasn’t letting up, “I’m cumming!” You yelled, you somehow cum and squirted at the same time, pushing Sylus thick dick of out you forcefully. 

He let go of you as you squirted all of over his dick. You fell face first into the pillows as your body twitched, hoping Sylus was done, “damn sweetheart, look at how much of a mess you made.” He said smiling, slapping your pussy, making you squeal. 

He wasn’t finished. He didn’t get to cum yet, pushing his dick into your hole again, you rises again trying to stop him. “I can’t,” you say, trying to move away, “too much,” “but, baby, what about me? Won’t you let me cum too?” He asked, gripping your throat, he was smiling. 

He pushed your head back into the pillows, “I’ll make it quick.” 

That night was long, he continuously filled you up over and over again with his cum and by the time he was done he had you ass up face down with your hole dripping with his nut. He was glad to see you filled up with a part of him inside you. 

Don’t worry, after you both came down, he took good care of you, even though you were passed out by the time he finished with you.

I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing something like this and finishing it.

@mcdepressed290 @kurohoely 

[rosalietodd013]

Crying in front of the LADS boys

[with chubby reader]

[chubby reader, don’t like it, don’t read it]

warnings: angst, comfort, fluff, crying, sadness, pretty short

I tried to keep the reasons for crying as vague as possible so that everyone feels included

ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ

Xavier:

Xavier sighs as he walks through the creaky door. It was late at night and he had to finish up some unnecessary tasks at work, which could have definitely waited until tomorrow. He was absolutely exhausted and wanted to crawl into bed with you. He hoped he could just hug your warm body to his and sleep until the next year. He rolled his shoulders in pure exhaustion and bent down to take off his shoes. He silently walked into the living room, because he didn’t want to wake you up incase you were already deep in dreamland. A tired smile split on his face when he saw the outline of your body on the couch, but he halted in his tracks and the smile fell from his face. You sat on the couch and big tears streamed down your round face. Your shoulders shook silently and soft whimpers left your mouth. Your face split into a sad frown and Xavier felt a sharp pain explode in his chest as he slowly took another step forward. You saw him out of the corner of your eye and jumped up.

You wiped your tears and plastered on a fake smile. Your voice still wobbled as you ground out “Xavier. How was work? We have some leftovers if you’re hungry.“

Xavier’s face softened into a soft and sad smile. His eyebrows furrowed in concern and he shook his head. You blinked up at him in confusion, your eyes still wet with tears. “You’re not hungry?“

“Please don’t shut me out.“ Xavier said softly. He still wore the same sad smile and slowly walked over to you. “You don’t have to explain what happened, but please don’t hide your feelings and just let me just take care of you.“

Your lip wobbled and when Xavier reached you, he tentatively wrapped his muscular arm around you. His veiny hand gently cupped the back of your head and gently nudged your head into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt and you cried loudly into his chest. His familiar scent and warmth engulfed you entirely. The sobs that raked through you shattered him to his very core, but he just rested his chin lightly on the top of your head and wrapped his arms around your full figure.

He didn’t prod on what happened to make you cry so desperately. He wants to know of course, but there’s no rush. He‘ll wait for you to lean on him on your own terms. Xavier‘s hand caressed over the top of your head and he gently pressed kisses over your hairline. He‘ll be there for you. He‘ll always be your shoulder to cry on.

•after you calmed down, he’ll brew you some tea to get your mind off things. He‘ll sit down with you and talk about his day if he notices any discomfort at the vulnerability you displayed, but the conversation will mostly be lighthearted and soft. He‘ll hope you‘ll talk with him about whatever caused your tears, but there’s no rush.

Zayne:

Zayne cautiously walked to the bathroom door. You had been gone for a very long time and at first he’d just assumed that you’d come back after you were done, but you’ve been gone for close to an hour. He reached the door and before he could lift his scarred hand to knock, he heard soft sobs through the door. Before he could stop himself, his knuckles gently rapped against the door three times and he softly called out your name. “Are you okay?“, he asked softly.

The sobs quietened and your voice was scratchy and rough when you called out. “Yeah, sorry. I‘ll be right back.“

His shoulders sagged and he made his way to the kitchen to prepare some tea for you. As the water boiled, he thought about all the things you both did together today. Did he say something that hurt you? Did he come across as uncaring? Did you feel unloved because of him? Your steps ripped him out of his thoughts and his eyes immediately snapped to your face. It was very obvious that you cried and your blotchy face and puffy eyes were the biggest indicator. You wore a soft smile and immediately knew Zayne knew that you cried.

“I‘m alright, Zayne. Honest.“ You chuckled but he just shook his head. Your face dropped and he smiled softly at you.

The kettle whistled and he poured the water into your matching mugs and lifted the snacks that he prepared while you washed your face in the bathroom. He nodded in the direction of your bedroom and you hesitantly walked in said direction. Zayne sat down your mugs and your snacks.

He walked over to you and gently cupped your face in between his hands. He leaned over and kissed your forehead. His lips lingered and you bit your lips to keep yourself from crying. After a minute, he removed himself from your forehead and tenderly began to undress you. His cold hands stroked over the rolls of your back and he put his hands on your soft shoulders and squeezed.

“Let‘s get you into something comfortable, hm?“, Zayne asked quietly, his voice as soft as honey.

After he put your favourite cozy shirt on you, he gently sat you down on the bed and put your plush legs over his lap. He casually started massaging and digging into your feet and calves as you drank your tea and ate your snacks.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? I won‘t judge you and I will try to help you to the best of my abilities.“ Zayne asked while keeping his gaze down on the parts of your body he was massaging. His soft and lingering touches deepened the sad sensation in your chest and you felt a knot form in your throat.

You let the tears flow down your face and Zayne looked up at you. His familiar hands immediately wrapped around you.

“I‘m here for you. You’re not alone and you never will be. I‘m here. I got you. You can always count on me. I love you.“

Rafayel:

When Rafayel woke up, your side of the bed was empty and he couldn’t have that. So, naturally; he scoured the entire house for you. You were nowhere to be found. Before he could spiral any further, he looked out of the window and saw you sitting on the sand. You looked straight ahead at the ocean and your back was turned to him.

Rafayel smiled and made his way over to you. When he opened the door, the biting icy wind immediately whipped at his skin and he hissed out. What the hell were you doing out in this weather? He quickly walked over to you and saw goosebumps all over your skin.

“Cutie? Are you made of steel? Come inside, my nipples could literally cut glass right now!“, he whined out teasingly. His smile immediately dropped when you turned around to face him. Your round face was full of tears and you sniffed a few times. Rafayel‘s shoulder sagged and he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, cutie. What happened?”

Rafayel sat down next to you and gently stroked over your head. His warm hand cupped your cold and chubby cheeks and pressed a kiss to your cold nose. Rafayel let you cry while his hands cupped your face. “Why didn’t you wake me up, hm? There’s nothing more important than you to me. You know that, don’t you? You shouldn’t be alone when you cry. Talk to me, please.“

You shook your head. “I’m okay. Just needed a minute.“ He sighed and engulfed you tightly in his embrace.

“You don’t have to act tough. I know you are. Crying doesn’t make you any less tough. Trust me, I know that you got me on a leash. Crying doesn’t change that.“

You snorted into his chest and nodded. He chuckled and cupped the back of your head and your tears flowed against his shirt. You weren’t sobbing anymore, you were just letting your tears flow freely and the relief of letting go while your boyfriend held you made you feel better already.

“Next time you feel like this, just wake me up. We can sit here together and just wail around. And maybe you can even tell me what’s wrong.“ Rafayel smiled softly at you and you nodded.

Rafayel looked at your puffy eyes and lips and winced. He leaned over and pressed soft kisses against your eyelids.“I guess the old tale is true. Soulmates really do look alike; you look like a fish.“

You squinted your eyes at him “Do you want to drown in the icy ocean?“, and he lifted his hands in surrender and shook his head with mocking fear.

Sylus:

Your plush body sat on top of his muscular one. His arms were wrapped around you and his large hands stroked over your back. Your face was buried in his shoulder and you sobbed. You asked him if he could hug you 10 minutes ago, and of course he obliged.

What he didn’t expect was your pretty little face to split up into the saddest frown as tears began to roll down. He stroked over your back and tenderly kissed your hairline.

He poured some water into a glass and gently nudged it against your lips. You shook your head and he raised his eyebrows at you. “Come on, just a bit. We don‘t want you to dehydrate.“

After you drank, he sat the glass down and pressed your foreheads together. “I‘m so sorry you’re going through a rough time, my love. I’m here, though. And I will never leave you. Thank you so much for coming to me and letting me take care of you. There’s no greater honour. You will never be alone, you’re so loved and so precious. Cry your heart out if you must, sweetie. Let it all out.“

After a while of just letting you cry, he‘d gently nudge you into telling him what happened. He wouldn’t push you or force you to tell him, but he wants you to lean on him. What else is he there for?

His large hand gently rubbed circles into your back and pressed a kiss against your forehead. “You can rely on me. You know that, right? I might not solve every problem you have, but I’ll carry the burden of it. I’ll support you through it. I’m here for you.“

If you still don’t want to talk about, he‘ll understand and support you through other ways. If you want to leave everything behind for a few days and just forget about everything, he’s your man. He‘d take you to a beautiful place and shower you with gifts and affection. You want to go shopping? He already pulled his card out. You want to go swimming? He had already picked out matching bathing suits and trunks for you both. Just tell him how to support you and he’ll do it. Without any hesitation.

Caleb:

Caleb knew the telltale signs of you when you’re about to cry. He prided himself on knowing you inside and out and knowing when you’re about to cry is a part of that. Your wobbly lips, your shaky voice, the excessive swallowing and blinking upward are all just signs he knows too well. So, when he sees that you’re holding your tears back, he’ll stop dead in his tracks.

You blinked up at him and gave him a forced smile and he sighs. He opened his arms and presented his warm boobs chest to you. You looked at him in confusion and he made a waving motion toward his on chest.

“Come here.“

You bit your lip and blinked a few times and he shook his head sadly as you walked over to him.

“There’s no need to hold back like that. Not with me, you know me. It’s just me, your Caleb. There’s no embarrassment in front of me, there’s no pretending. Just cry if you need to.“

His warm hand gently nudged your face towards his chest and he cupped the back of your head. It took a few minutes, but when you started to silently sob against his chest, Caleb sighed in relief. “There we go, finally. Good job, don’t hold back. Bottling your emotions up is extremely unhealthy. You’re doing so well. Cry until you can’t anymore.“

He smiled softly as you weeped into his embrace, his warm arm tightened around your full figure. Of course, he wasn’t happy to see you upset. It actually broke his heart whenever you cried, but he was happy you’re letting it out around him. That you trust him so much. He loved that you saw him as a safe space.

He‘ll blow your nose for you. Yes, he knows that you can do it on your own and no, he does not care. Don’t even try to take the tissue, that’s his job.

He‘ll cook you a warm and comforting savoury meal and watch your favourite movie with you. Later, he’d ask if you want to talk about why you cried.

[rosalietodd013]

Annoying

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➸ INTERESTS; - f!reader x unspecified m! lover

➸ BACKGROUND; - imagine w/ whomever (just a blurb/short write idea i’ve had on my mind for a long while now, just can’t pin it to one character)

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. roughly 400, sex mentions, teasing, kissing, moaning, fingering, orgasm mentions, unspecified character, etc.

➸a.i; - 🌸my main navigation

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Annoying is a word used often, especially a word he used often when it came to small simple things, or unnecessary conversation, even when it came to you.

Like right now, he was bothered to say the least but annoying fit his description better. There you were sprawled out onto the couch, nude from the waist down and yet your shirt was propped up and your breasts on display. He held both of your wrists over your head with one hand, while his over cupped underneath you, fingering you.

You watched as his brows furrow as his eyes gazed your face intensely. He hated what you were doing, attempting to silence yourself and make at least noise as possible, it’s exactly why he pinned your hands away from your face in the first place.

He loves hearing you moan and watching your face whenever the two of you are intimate. How you can’t look away from him and can’t stop peppering him with kisses, no matter how much he complains.

But here you were bitting your bottom lip in attempts to seal your sounds from him. It hadn’t worked, your breath was heavier than before and you could barely resist your movements. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle of course, he knew you were just attempting to get under his skin.

He leaned down just enough to feel your breath on his face, practically teasing you into a soft kiss before hovering above you again. He smirked sheepishly at you before sinking another finger into you, curling his fingers upwards as he watched your body spasm as you moaned loudly.

“I’ll just force it out of you baby.”

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hm: Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Simon Riley, Suguru Geto, Kakashi Hatake, Nanami Kento, John Price, Jake Sully, Neteyam, Aonung, Shouta Aizawa, Katsuki Bakugo, Eren Yeager, Caleb (LADS), Sylus (LADS), etc.

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[rosalietodd013]

You were nervous. This would be the first time you've hung out with Jason since "the incident". You really didn't know how you were supposed to act right now.

You turned on the tv for a distraction while he took off his gear by the door. You sat on the couch, waiting, watching him as he slid the helmet off of his head. He shook out his sweaty hair, and your heart skipped a beat. God he was so hot, even if he refuses to believe it.

He's all you've been able to think about since then. Jason, Jason, Jason. He was being so casual right now, the same as he always acted during one of your hangouts. Was the other night just a one-time thing? You really hoped not. His kiss had felt like fire on your tongue.

He sat down next to you as the game blared from the television. You tried not to stare at him as he did. He was so close, and yet the mere inch between you felt like a chasm.

Jason put his arm up on the back of the couch, subtly also putting his arm around you. Kind of. His touch burned. You stared blankly ahead, trying to quietly fight the heat that made it’s way to your face. He shifted his weight, propping up a leg on the coffee table, and you followed suit, trying to relax. Unfortunately you freaked out after realizing you were mirroring him, thus undoing those efforts to relax. Not sure he even noticed, though.

He let out a bored sigh, “you know, I’m honestly not a big fan of football,”

“Yeah, me either,” you sounded like you were behind glass or something, voice small, “I only really went to games with friends back at Gotham U because that's where you went to socialize…” you trailed off.

He turned his gaze down at you. You made an effort to make eye contact. You stared at each other, both of you in some kind of daze. His eyes were so green.

Then you blinked.

Suddenly you were on your stomach as Jason kissed your neck in a silent apology for the rough pace he pounded into you with.

Yeah. Definitely not a one-time thing.

[rosalietodd013]

I don't know if you're taking requests, but... can you write what it would be like to have Jason Todd fucking the reader on top of his motorcycle while he's supposed to be on lookout? (sorry for the kinda bad English... I'm from Brazil)

i'm sorry for not having answered this when it was sent 😭 (literally from march crazyyyy) but here ya gooooo ! + i miss writing for his fine ass <3

you’re not sure how it started—one second, jason’s perched on his bike, helmet off, scanning the dark alley like a professional. the next, you're straddling the seat, your back pressed to his chest, his gloved hands gripping your thighs like he’s about to lose his damn mind.

“we’re supposed to be watching,” he rasps, but his voice is already wrecked, and his hips are already rolling up against you.

“then stop,” you tease, grinding back against him, feeling the hard line of him through his jeans. he doesn’t stop. he never does.

the bike creaks under the weight of you both, but he doesn’t care. not when his hands are sliding up under your shirt, rough fingertips brushing your skin, not when he’s tugging your panties to the side with a kind of impatience that makes your breath hitch.

“fuckin’ tease,” he mutters, teeth grazing your neck, biting just enough to make you whimper.

“you’re the one who’s distracted,” you shoot back, but your words break into a gasp when he shifts, the head of his cock brushing against you, thick and hot and already leaking.

“you’re the distraction,” he growls, one hand gripping the handlebars, the other on your hip as he pushes into you, slow and deliberate, every inch making you tremble.

the bike rocks, the alley dead quiet except for the sound of you—your stifled moans, his sharp breaths, the faint creak of the bike as he fucks into you harder, deeper.

“you’re gonna get us caught,” you gasp, your nails digging into his thigh.

he smirks against your shoulder, his pace unrelenting.

“let ‘em catch us,” he pants, voice low and dark. “‘m not stopping.”

@ deansbeer is tagging you .ᐟ @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deanswidow @h8aaz @bluemerakis @bluestrd @fuckedupfate @blue-d @funkycoloured @jensenacklesballsack @beausling @faiszt @acaibcwl @samslovebug @ultravi0lence14 @starzify ╱ wanna be added? join my taglist <3

[rosalietodd013]

simp!mark be like

[rosalietodd013]

Thank you 🥹

Sylus loves his chubby girlfriend.

Sylus never seen her weight as a problem, she knew she was a larger woman, but it never seemed important to him nor did he care.

Sylus love his chubby girlfriend and he always pinches and BITES your chubby cheeks.

“Your teeth are sharp as hell, boy move!”

You bicker at him, but it only gives him a reason to laugh and do it again when you aren’t aware.

When you come over the first thing he wants to do is shower with you and nap on your tummy or thighs, “Are you able to even breathe, sir…”

“Don’t ask me such trivial questions.” Grumbling into your skin before taking a small nip at you, you almost protest and squeeze him between your thigh, but he licked over the wound winking up at you before falling back asleep.

You were everything he needed and more. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around your plush tummy, nearly suffocating you.

Sylus loves you and you body, he always swears up and down he doesn’t see the point of liking little cute plushy things, but you actually became his life size plush toy. (He never objectified you though)

Sylus and his strength always was challenged by your doubts and he had no problem proving you wrong everytime.

“Me? Can’t pick you up, oh sweetie you’re so cute….but insulting.”

And due to that here you were being thrown over his shoulder like you weighed less than a pillow.

And being folded as if you were a rubber band.

“Sy—-! Sylus I —-“ You words were broken into moans when the harsh thrust of his pelvis smacking against you ass as he held you up, “…believe you! I’m sorry!”

Sylus would never blame his pretty girl for anything, in his eyes you can do no wrong, but if he were to accuse you for anything it’s how addictive you are to him.

He picks you up with ease to fuck you from behind as he stands, making you look in the mirror to every jiggle and jump your body does as a response to his dick slamming back inside you.

“Look at me…”

Sylus has you sit on his lap facing him, still naked and connected, you wiggle in his grasp, but you can’t leave , you’re not sure if you even want to. His embrace held you firmly, but his warmth was comforting. He held your chin, his sweaty thumb rub against your hot cheek. “Repeat after me …I am beautiful.”

You look down for a moment, but he smushes your cheeks and raises you head to look him in his soft red eyes, you notice his pupils dilating and your lip quivers.

“I am beautiful.”

His lip curls before kissing you gently, it was passionate, but soft, as if he were kissing you as a thank you, “I’m worth loving.”

“I’m…worth loving.”

He kisses you again and then your cheek, moving his lips to your ear, “And I’m all Sylus’ and Sylus is all mine.”

“I’m all Sylus’ and Sylus is all mine.”

When he kisses you this time was was hungrier, crying into his mouth his own name when his fingers dancing in your clit before swiping it back and fourth, leaving more of a mess in between your thick warm thighs his libido was out of this world, but it’s not like you mind it. You always managed to match his energy.

You just can’t be insecure around Sylus he won’t allow you to.

He wants you to see what he sees in you.

[rosalietodd013]

My poor Xavi, they’re too funny🧍🏽‍♀️

[rosalietodd013]

My baby 😭😭😭

Y/N: Sit down, i'm gonna torture you now

Jason, smirking: Kinky.

Y/N: I think you're sweet and beautiful.

Jason: What—

Y/N: You deserve to be cared for.

Jason: Stop, now—

Y/N: Your feelings are valid and deserve to be heard.

Jason: I NEED A SAFE WORD!!!

[rosalietodd013]

when the angst is angsting

[rosalietodd013]

I want to see Jason’s part as kinda toxic but at the same time that’s still my baby and I don’t even care 😍

THINGS YOU DO THAT THE BATBOYS FIND ATTRACTIVE ! batboys x reader

“God, you’re impossible. And I’m so screwed, because I think I’d let you ruin me.”

— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts in jasons & bruces part (maybe dick too??)

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

JASON TODD

the way you hold eye contact when you're angry

It started as a slow simmer—your voice, low and clipped, each word deliberate, sharp enough to slice through the heavy Gotham air. Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell you were mad about anymore. The way your eyes were locked on his, unwavering, lit from within by something electric—it drowned out everything else.

You stood across the room, spine straight, chest rising with each measured breath. Not yelling. Not crying. Just...burning. And looking at him.

There was something about that. The way you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Like you could take every jagged, bloodstained part of him and still meet him dead-on, like you’d never blink first. It made his heart twist in his chest, something old and animal uncoiling inside him. He’d faced down murderers, monsters, lowlife scumbags—but the fury in your gaze made his throat go dry. Not because he feared it. Because he wanted to touch it. touch you.

You took a step forward, the kind that didn’t echo but reverberated, and that subtle movement—how your hands stayed relaxed at your sides, how your mouth didn’t tremble when you spoke—undid him.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Jason.”

There was a beat. One taut, blistering moment where the only thing louder than your breath was the pounding in his ears.

And then he laughed. Just a breath of it, almost involuntary. The kind of laugh you get when something hurts and turns you on at the same time. He didn’t even mean to. It just escaped him.

You frowned, and that only made it worse. He wanted to bite your lip just to see if your mouth would still taste like fire when it was pressed against his. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you so hard it left bruises.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, almost reverent.

You blinked at that—but didn’t back down. And the way your stare softened just a fraction, that flicker of confusion folding into resolve again... yeah. That did it. That almost ended him right then and there.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a lit fuse. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to pull, to anchor.

“You gonna hit me?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous and barely hanging on.

You tilted your chin up. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”

God. That. That right there. The grit in your voice. He could live off that kind of defiance. He wanted to.

Jason had never been good at softness. He didn’t know what to do with people who crumbled. But you—? You held his gaze like a storm, like a girl who could kill him with her silence, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was beg for a second chance to make you smile again.

Not because he deserved it. Because he’d die trying to.

DICK GRAYSON

the way you reach for him in your sleep

It starts small. Always does. You shift once, twice—barely there. Then your hand moves, unthinking. Across sheets warm with your shared heat, it searches.

You don’t know you're doing it. That’s what makes it criminal. You’re not asking to be loved in that moment. You’re assuming it. Trusting the world to place him where he belongs: next to you.

And Dick—poor, cursed Dick—is already awake.

He lies still, pretending. Letting you find him. Every nerve is alight, tuned to the sound of your breath, the whisper of cotton as your wrist brushes the inside of his arm. Then—finally—your hand finds his chest, right over the scar where a blade once tried to make him quiet forever.

Your fingers twitch. Then still. Then curl.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He’s not thinking about villains or masks or the weight of his last name. He’s not worried about who’s watching, or whether he’s enough. He’s just a man now.

A man undone by the way you, unconscious and vulnerable, reach for him like he’s home. Like your body knows him, wants him, chooses him—without performance, without pride.

And it’s just so fucking sweet. The sweetness that life had never thought him deserving of—never bothered to offer, as if the universe had forgotten him in some quiet corner—was suddenly there, in you. And only then did he realize what he had been starved of.

There’s something maddening about your vulnerability—how you press against him in sleep, skin warm and scent-heavy, mouth parted just slightly. Innocent, yes. But not harmless.

Not to him.

He could write an entire religion based on the way your breath hitches when his hand covers yours. He could burn entire cities if someone tried to pull you away while you sleep.

Because this—this secret, sacred moment where you choose him without knowing— is the kind of thing he’s never let himself want.

But now that he’s had it, he knows.

He’ll want it forever.

BRUCE WAYNE

the way you tilt your chin when you're defiant

It is the tiniest gesture—a tilt of the chin, so slight it might pass for nothing at all. But to him? It is semaphore, a flare in the dusk, a gauntlet tossed with exquisite subtlety.

You do it when you disagree. Not with loud words or theatrics. No. You just raise your chin. Barely. As if your body is saying, “I’m not afraid of you.”“I’ll meet you there, if you push.”

And God help him, he wants to push.

You do this thing where your jaw tightens just slightly, where your eyes go sharp and patient at the same time—like you’ve already calculated the cost of standing your ground and decided to pay it anyway.

You look… royal. As though Gotham’s grime never dared graze your skin. Like tragedy tried and failed. Like you’d walk into fire if it meant protecting what’s yours.

And that infuriates him.

Because Bruce—Bruce—knows what defiance costs. He’s worn it like armor. Bled for it. Buried people because of it.

But when you do it?

It doesn’t look like self-destruction. It looks like purpose. Power. Something beautiful he was never allowed to have.

He wants to touch your face when you tilt your chin like that. Wants to grab your wrist and pull you into him—not to overpower, but to understand. To memorize the blueprint of that defiance. To feel it against his mouth.

You make silence feel like war. And he’s losing.

Because there is something deeply, dangerously erotic about a woman who doesn’t flinch when she should. Who doesn’t soften to make him comfortable. Who looks at the darkest thing in him—and doesn’t look away.

He’s not used to being watched like that. He’s not used to wanting to be watched like that.

And every time you lift that chin, he’s reminded of exactly how easy it would be to give up the act, the mask, the fiction of the untouchable man—

—all for one person who sees him and doesn't look away.

[rosalietodd013]

hey, how about a mark who is fascinated by everything y/n does? it's the first time she has a squirt with him and he is impressed by it and wants her even more!!! pretty pleaseeee and tysm 🫡

Heyy ofcc!! Thanks for the request :))

Mark is such a lover boy. When he’s not, y’know, saving the planet, he’s buying you flowers and chocolates. He’s flying you all over the world, taking you places you never thought you’d get to visit.

And all the while, he’s watching the gleam in your eyes as you gaze at him, with such love and adoration.

He’s so fascinated by you. By how confident you are, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you just stand there and exist.

So, it’s fair to say that that obsession doesn’t stop when you’re in bed together. He’s learnt your nuances, the things that make your thighs squeeze tighter around him, the things that make you sigh softly, the things that make you cry for him.

He knows all your soft spots, where to touch, when to touch it. He knows how to follow your orders of ‘Mark, faster, harder, right there, don’t stop!’

And he does it all perfectly, whilst watching your face, kissing away the tears and the drool, seeing your face contort as you reach your high.

The first time you squirt on him, drenching his thighs and abdomen, he almost doesn’t notice because he’s too busy watching your pleasure on your face.

So don’t be too surprised when he lies face to face with your cunt, fingers spreading your folds as he begs, “Oh no, I missed it, can you give me one more??”

And because he’s looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes, and because he’s nothing but good to you, you’ve got no choice but to say yes.

[rosalietodd013]

REVERENCE.

when months of restraint led to silly arguments and an unexpected addiction—and now you're left wondering if his bed comes with a warranty.

౨ৎ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

౨ৎ genre. explicit smut, pwp 18+

౨ৎ tags. dom!sylus, soft!sylus, profanity, teasing, sexual tension, possessive undertones, insecurity, emotional intimacy, virginity loss, little to no angst, banter, fast-paced smut

౨ৎ notes. happy birthday big bad boss-man <3 him and his damn private pool did things to me, sooo here’s a short one. reblogs/comments are highly appreciated!

The water shimmered like obsidian glass beneath the moonlight, glinting with each subtle movement of his body. Sylus cut through the surface with deliberate grace, every stroke fluid, every breath a display of absolute gorgeousness. His back arched with each pull through the water, muscles contracting with each move, shoulders broad and smooth, tapering into that ridiculous V-line that disappeared below the waistband of his swim trunks. God, and the soft illumination from the pool lights played against his skin, highlighting every dip and ridge of his toned body. Honestly, sometimes he looked less like a man and more like some Greek god or a myth carved from heavenly sin. And it certainly fit how one of his favorite classic records—Chaconne in G Minor, to be exact—was playing in the background, emphasizing what majestic god of a man was relaxing in the pool. 

You were supposed to be reading. Or pretending to, at least.

Instead, you found yourself slouched in the lounge chair beside the pool, the chilled stem of a wine glass resting against your thigh, and eyes glued to the man in the water like he was a scene from a forbidden dream. You’d seen Sylus shirtless more times than you could count by now. Hell, you lived with the man. But there was something different about watching him like this. This raw, unfiltered sight of him like you were spying on a secret he never meant to share.

And yet, deep in the pit of your stomach, something churned.

Six months.

Six months of being his—whatever this was. Girlfriend. Partner. Possession, sometimes, when he was feeling particularly growly. 

Half a year of stolen glances and hidden touches and shared beds. Of whispered sweet nothings in the dark, of his fingers memorizing the lines of your body like he wanted to carve them into his memory. You were his, and he made sure you knew it every time he held your jaw and called you kitten, every time he stood behind you in public with a hand on your lower back like a gentleman. 

​​But every time things went too far, every time your back hit a mattress and you whispered that you were ready, he’d stop. He just never went all the way. And while his kisses were fire and his touches were thunder, you couldn’t shake the one thought in your head: Why hasn’t he?

Look, you didn’t want to ask. Not directly. Because maybe you didn’t want to hear the answer. It could be… restraint? Patience? Or was it disgust, after all? Maybe he hated the curve of your thighs or the way your stomach folded when you sat. Maybe he didn’t want to see you undone because, deep down, he didn’t think you were worth ruining.

Your grip tightened around the glass. You knew how he looked at you. You felt his hunger, even if he never let it tip over the edge. But still, that question lodged in your ribs like a thorn.

“I can feel you staring,” Sylus drawled from the water.

Your breath hitched but you played it cool by sipping from your glass. “I’m allowed to look.”

He moved slowly, swimming toward the edge like a snake slithering out of the dark. He reached the side, pulling himself up slightly with both arms braced on the ledge. Water streamed down his torso in glistening rivulets, his hair slicked back, not to mention the unholy sharpness of his cheekbones. “Then ask what you really want to ask,” he murmured, voice smooth as dark velvet.

You tilted your head, feigning nonchalance. “And what would that be?”

His deep, clearly taunting laugh reverberated in your ears. “Why I haven’t had you yet.”

Heat slammed through you like a wave, your fingers tightening around the wine glass so hard it nearly cracked. You refused to give him the satisfaction of flustering you. So instead, you lifted your brows and asked, “Is it some kind of twisted power play?”

His tongue ran along his bottom lip. Deliberately, if you may add. And he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. “Tempting,” said he. “But no.”

Your mouth went dry. “Then, what?”

And that’s when he leaned in closer, his arms flexing on the pool’s edge, voice dropping into something feral. “Because I know you can’t take me, kitten.”

You blinked, your entire body going still. Mind blank. Completely. When you regained your sanity, you later stood and walked over to him, bare feet silent on the tile until you were right in front of him. You leaned down just enough so he could catch the fire in your eyes, the defiance in the part of your lips, the way your swimsuit clung to every curve. You reached out and plucked a cherry from the dark chocolate cake, took a slow bite, and let the juice slip from your mouth, trailing down the curve of your neck.

“Well,” you whispered in true competitive you, watching as his lips formed an upward curl, “try me.”

~~

“Haaah!”

He did.

“S-Sy—!”

That night, everything changed. Literally. 

“Mmmh! R-Right there!” 

If your moans didn’t already make it obvious, then believe this—the whispers about Sylus being incredible in bed weren’t just rumors. It was hell of a fucking truth. 

He touched you like you were sacred. His mouth was reverent, his hands patient, tracing the slopes of your mounds like he was memorizing it. Every kiss was full of ardor, every sigh against your skin was likely an apology for all the nights he made you wait. He undressed you like you were something precious, something breakable, and still looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing in the room.

And, not to brag, but being his girlfriend had some of the best perks in the intimacy department, too. Because he was packing. You already knew he was, just by noticing the bulge that would show behind his boxers. But this time around, you finally had the front row access to actually see his manhood. And taste it, even. Just that, it didn’t fit your mouth. Not in the way you expected, because when you said he was big, you didn’t know he was that big. His cock, when fully grown and hard, was probably 8 inches at least. It had a very slight upward curve, thick veins, and a pinkish nude tip. It was hot and pulsing, angry and desperate. 

When he finally entered you, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow. Painfully, agonizingly slow like he was afraid of ripping you open. The first entrance made you scream, not from pain, but from the first wave of ecstasy you discovered your body could draw out. Blood may have soaked his entire girth, but you didn’t care about that right now. You were too drunk from the mixing pain and pleasure, and could barely open your eyes as your lover went in and out of you, calling you a good girl, telling you your pussy was so tight it was squeezing him. 

“Fuck,” he breathed against your ear, holding your hips steady as he pulled away to adjust his pace. It was the very first time you’d heard him cuss. “This… There’s no going back after this, kitten.”  

“I-I don’t care.” You pulled him back, letting him dive his face onto your neck while you pushed your chest against his. Skin-to-skin, flesh on flesh. His toned chest pressing against your soft breasts. He was rocking his hips back and forth like he couldn’t get enough, rock-hard cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He was deep enough that he had you folded in half against the mattress and your walls wrapped around his shaft so perfectly it must have felt like a lubricated glove. 

And when he whispered your name against your throat like it was holy, something inside you cracked open. 

“Aah—ah!” 

Is it my cervix he’s hitting? Gosh, you couldn’t tell any more. Your legs were already shaking at that point and all you could think of was wanting to explode. To combust.

You had never felt more worshipped. You had never felt more wanted, desired.

“Mouth,” he growled on your lips, “Tits, or inside? Your choice, kitten.” 

At first, you didn’t understand what he meant. You didn’t exactly have a book of how to’s when having sex, so it took you awhile to fully realize it amidst salacious moans and animalistic heat. And when you did, your cheeks burned a scorching 150°F. 

“M-Mouth,” you managed to say while he bit your lower lip. He didn't stop ramming into you until your voice was hoarse and your body trembling, and even then, he kissed you softly like he was holding an angel in his arms. That was, until he started moaning—no, grunting, and his pace was increasing its speed. In one swift motion, he pulled out, moved to place his throbbing cock by your mouth, and jerked his shaft until white, hot seed spattered all over your tongue. 

Sylus immediately grabbed your jaw, wanton ruby eyes staring down at you with nothing but perversion in mind. “Don’t spit it out, sweetie. Swallow it like a good girl.” 

You did as told. Even sucked him dry to make sure no drop was wasted. And frankly, although the taste of cum was foreign, it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. All you could think about was the fact that it came from the love of your life, the man you only ever desired, after a pleasure-filled night. You got that out of him. It was you who released it from him. 

And you didn’t really sleep that night. Not because he didn’t let you, but because you were still processing the experience and because he couldn’t stop touching you. Fingertips grazing your arm. Lips pressing against your temple. I love you’s in your ear as if losing your virginity was the greatest honor he had the pleasure of having. 

~~

But a week passed. Probably two.

And something shifted again.

Sylus still kissed you. Still touched you. Still looked at you like you were made of light feather. But he didn’t take you. Not again after the first time. Every time you leaned into him, heat in your eyes and want in your breath, he pulled back. Made excuses. “Busy week, kitten.” “Long meeting.” “You need rest, sweetie.” And more often than not, he distracted you with affection and whispered sweet lies of “next time” against your skin until the moment passed.

It wasn’t rejection. He was still soft with you, still attentive. But it was like there was an invisible wall he’d rebuilt, brick by silent brick. You didn’t press at first, but the doubt returned that maybe you weren’t good enough, maybe that night was a fluke and he regretted it. Maybe he thought your skills paled in comparison to other girls he had sex with before. 

The thought ate you alive in the most bitter way, so naturally, you stopped trying. You avoided him in small, quiet ways. Stopped initiating. Stopped trying. You wore oversized shirts instead of lingeries, avoided his lap and chose the farthest corner of the couch. You kissed his cheek instead of his mouth. You smiled when he teased, but you didn’t force a chuckle out.

And what terrible boyfriend would Sylus be if he didn’t notice?

It was subtle, at first. Longer stares. More questions. Quiet, unreadable glances from across the room. Then, one night, he found you curled into the far corner of the couch, eyes glued to your phone, back turned to him. He walked over. Without a word, he picked you up and pulled you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world.

“Alright. Tell me now. What did I do?” he asked quietly.

You froze like a deer caught in the headlights and refused to return his gaze. “Nothing.”

“Kitten.” That voice. Gentle command, cloaked in velvet. The one that always made you crumble. “You’re not fooling anyone here with that adorable grumpy face.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, then why couldn’t you just spit it out? Everytime I asked if we could have sex, you kept making excuses. If you didn’t want to do it again or if you hated my body, you could’ve just said so.”

He went still. “What?”

“I’m not mad, by the way,” you clarified, a little too quickly, a little too defensively while you held onto that glare he found so damn amusing. “I’m not. And if that was all you wanted from me, it’s fine. I’m sure your other girls did it better before—”

He cut you off with a hand on your jaw, turning your face to his. “Stop.”

“What?” You looked up and he was staring at you like you’d just said something insane. It made you want to curl and bury yourself six feet under, then and there. It was embarrassing. 

“You think I didn’t want to because of you?” He let out a ridiculous chuckle, one that he usually made whenever he found your antics a little too farcical. His thumb brushed over your cheek, then under your chin, lifting your face. “You think I don’t fantasize over this?” he added, hand trailing down to cup your breast before moving further to give your bum a playful squeeze, “You think I hate this?” 

Swallowing, you looked away shyly. “Then, why do you keep rejecting—”

“It’s because when I get addicted… I can’t stop,” he whispered, pecking your lips tenderly. “And with you, kitten, I know I will. You’ll hate me for it.”

Blinking, you told him,

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

~~

The months that followed were, in two words, pure filth.

Sylus became a beast. His previous slow and sensual pace became history as soon as he discovered a preference for doing it hard and fast. Your nights turned into marathons. Mornings were a blur of sore muscles, bruised hips, and smug glances from across the breakfast table. You couldn’t keep up, and you didn’t want to. You liked seeing what he was like when he didn’t hold back. When he gave in. When he devoured.

In the living room. In his office. In the bathtub. In his car. On his motorcycle. On a bear skin rug by the fireplace. Missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, standing up, against the wall. You name it. He became utterly, obsessively yours. Pulled you away from the Association mid-duty, muttering, “Come here. Now.” Dragged you back into bed after a shower just because he’d remembered how you looked the night before. He’d whisper, “You did this to me, kitten,” and kiss you until you forgot your own name.

Once, you joked that you hadn’t done actual cardio in a month. And the idiot grinned and murmured, “Good. Because you’ll be doing laps tonight.”

You did. Three times.

And tonight, the choice of place was the shower. The position? Well, you weren’t even sure what it was called anymore. All you knew was that you two stood under the cascade of water, your right leg dangling on his arm as he fucked you from the side. Your moans were louder than the sound of rainshower, even more as he slammed his cock inside you over and over, at a speed you couldn’t even keep up with. 

“A-Aaah, Sylus—!” 

His lips were on your neck, marking and mapping it with hickeys. His hands moved to squeeze your tits from behind, before he held your hips in place. With your ass against his cock, he made you lower yourself and arch your back a little, just so he could start pounding you from the back. 

“Nghhh!”

“You said you can keep up with me, kitten.”

“I-I c-can…!”

And somehow, you didn’t remember how you ended up in bed, absolutely soaking wet, as you bounced against his hardened member. He made you squat, legs on each side, hands on his knees for support so you could move up and down his cock like a bunny. Because you two did, in fact, fuck like rabbits. Or in his very sophisticated words, “copious amount of coitus”. 

In the end, you were sprawled over his chest like a limp noodle, hair a mess, thighs sore beyond recognition, you groaned into his collarbone and could still feel his warm seed leaking out of your entrance. 

“I need a vacation from my own bedroom,” you quipped.

Sylus didn’t answer right away. Just kept stroking his fingers lazily down your spine, his breathing calm beneath you. His skin was still warm from everything he’d done to you until dawn, and his heartbeat thumped steady and smug beneath your cheek.

You tilted your head to glance up at him. “I’m serious. I think my body’s filing a complaint.”

“Let it,” he said, eyes still closed. “I’ll counter-sue for emotional damages.”

You snorted. “What damage?”

He opened one eye, ruby gaze dropping to your lips. “I told you I’d get addicted.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, snuggling back into his chest and feeling comfort from his scent, “this is the worst rehab program ever.”

He smiled into your hair, huge arms tightening around you. “There’s no rehab, kitten.”

“None at all?” 

“No, I’m never recovering from you.”

[rosalietodd013]

GK! JASON TODD NSFW ALPHABET (F!POV)

MDNI

A=aftercare

He is soft, makes sure you are cozy in bed, then makes sure you are asleep, grabs a book, and lights a cigarette to wind down before sleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: his hands mostly; he loves to see how big they are in comparison to your face.

Yours: he is not picky; he likes tits ass, pussy, and everything in between.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He likes to see you swallow it, or inside you, he used to condoms on one night stands, but he gets possesive with his “real” partners

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) he masturbated as soon as he could after meeting you many years ago

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a stud; one-night stands during his early days as hero taught him everything, but after the pit, he could only truly be with those who could handle him, which included you.

F = Favourite Position

Doggy

G = Goofy

Sadly no, hes mean or serious

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He has a thin layer of chest hair that he occasionally removes, but he usually keeps his hair down there messy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Hes mean and really into dom’ing you

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He has you, so he does not really need to, but when he is on a long stakeout or you are sick/tired, he rubs it off.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Domination, degradation, restraints and spaking

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He fucks you practically anywhere, including the belfry. Yes, in his motorcycle ? YES, in a dark alleyway? YES!!!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you workout, seeing your strong muscles and amazing abs? YES, PLEASE!, OR Seeing you beat up Dick or Tim in training makes him flustered.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age play/ddlg or anything beyond “daddy”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He likes both although most people cant take his dick fully but he dosent mind giving

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood, especially after a long mission. He is soft and slow, but what about one of those nights? You are going to need Babs’ wheelchair.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He likes to smack your ass and bend you over in the belfry, among other places, but he prefers propersex.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s a freak.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

the lazarus pit gave him insane stamina, this man can easly go for hours on end

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He likes to overstimulate you sometimes, so a toy or too dont hurt

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not a teaser, he likes to be upfront

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud, he groans, grunts and shouts at you all during sex

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes to send dick picks comparig his massive pistols to his big fat cock

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

MONSTER BIG and beer can thick, he has to custom order condoms just for his one night stands but he’s with you now so he dosent need them

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Insanely high everynight he’s yearning for you

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

About an hour afterwards