#long sleeve silk shirt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pixxiies · 7 months ago

Text

tense

pairing ;; matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings ;; oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise, use of y/n, fluffy beginning and ending, softdom!matt, pet names (sweetheart n princess, etc), no actual p in v, lowercase intended !!

word count ;; 1.1k

a/n ;; this was based off a request!! had lots of fun writing this:) also sorry if this is bad im ovulating and im a little bit high

yk the basics .. pink is u , blue is matt !!

. . .

your pov

i stepped into my boyfriend’s house after a long shift at work. “hey chris.” i sigh, putting my bag down on the island. “hey y/n, matt wanted me to tell you that he was gonna be streaming when you got back.” the brunette boy spoke from the couch, sipping on a can of pepsi.

i nodded before making my way down the hall to matt’s room. i knocked softly on the door and a small “come in” was heard from inside. i slowly walk into the room with a light smile on my face. “alright guys ima go on mute real quick.” matt spoke into his mic, muting it then getting out of his seat.

“hey baby, how was work?” he asked me, bringing me into a hug. i let out a small mumble in reply as my arms wrapped around his neck. "could be better, my legs hurt so bad from running around all day. but i got a $100 tip from this guy since he said my ass was fat" i laugh, letting go of matt so i could take off my hooters uniform. matt was literally forgetting that he had been streaming the entire time.

“could you get me a shirt baby?” i ask matt, struggling to take off the tight white long sleeve uniform top. he nodded, tossing me one of his shirts that i missed terribly. we laughed about it quietly as i took off the extremely revealing shorts. i put on the pink hershey bear shirt, then body flopping down on his silk sheets. “im gonna lay down, my legs hurt so bad.” i pointed out as my body laid comfortably in his bed.

matt hummed, looking at his pc. he quickly walked over and sat down in his gaming chair. “hey guys, sorry ima have to end the stream a bit earlier. thanks for watching love you guys.” matt spoke into his mic after he unmuted. he clicked the red ‘end’ button before he stood up. “matt you didn’t have to end it” i smile, opening my arms for him. “eh its whatever, i was already streaming for a few hours so its okay.” he reassured as he laid down next to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

he kissed my temple softly, rubbing my lower back gently. “tell me about your day y/n/n.” he whispered into my skin. i let out a small sigh. “well, it was a bit stressful. a lot of guys asked for my number, got a lot of tips since i had good tits and ass…” i trail off, playing with matt’s hair. “i also fell, so that’s probably why my legs hurt.” i pout. he hummed quietly, figuring something that could help me. “i can give you a massage if you’d like.” the brunette boy suggested.

my eyes twinkle a little bit, “hm i’d like that a lot.” i giggle. matt rolled over to his nightstand and grabbed a small bottle of lavender scented lotion from his drawer. i sat up slightly, throwing the blanket to the side.

matt sat crisscrossed while squirting a bit of lotion into his hands. “is this the lavender one i bought you?” i ask with a small smile. he nodded, spreading the lotion evenly on my thighs and calfs. his thumbs kneeded into my skin, making sure every inch of my skin got touched.

his palms massaged every part of my leg. i let out a quiet shaky moan as matt soon neared his fingers close to my inner thighs. he looked up at me with slight doe eyes. “is this okay sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. i nod slowly, allowing matt to give soft kisses on my thighs.

matt’s hands ran up and down the sides of my thighs with a bit of pressure, leaving goosebumps. “does this feel good princess?” matt whispered as his eyes shot through mine. i whine in agreement, the spot in between my legs starting to ache. his fingers continued to get closer to where i needed them to be. “matt, baby.” i whine. matt hummed quietly, looking back up at me. “hm? what is it sweetheart?” he whispered, spreading my legs apart. i blinked at him slowly, “mh, i need you.” i breath softly.

“awh my poor baby.” he teased, his thumb rubbing small circles on my clothed clit. my back arched off the bed just a bit. his fingers hooked around the waistband of my panties and he slowly pulled them down.

matt looked up at me, his hand sliding under my lower back. his fingers traced my entrance teasingly, making me let out soft moans. “i barely touched you sweetheart, and your already wet.” he laughed softly, allowing his fingers inside of me. “mgh, baby.” i whine to the slight burning sensation of matt stretching me out. his fingers slid in and out of me easily, sending me over the moon. “taking my fingers so well huh?” matt purred, his tongue soon flicking over my clit. his tongue started to work wonders on my cunt, it swirling around my bundle of nerves.

i whimper out quietly, my legs wrapping around his head slightly. my hands reached down to his hair, tugging on it gently. a string of curses left my mouth that was falling agape. “fuck fuck please keep going.” i moan out. “such a needy girl.” matt whispered softly with a cocky smile on his face. my breath quickened so fast as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of me, hitting my g-spot repeatedly.

matt was determined to continue eye contact with me as his mouth worked on me perfectly. “mmmm. matt please dont stop it feels so good.” i whimper out as the familiar knot started to form in my stomach. “oh yeah?” he teased, letting his fingers out of my pussy and replaced them with his tongue. my back completely arched off of the bed, moaning out to the sensation of his tongue starting to fuck me.

i continued to let out small whimpers while matt continued to fuck me faster with his tongue. my eyes roll to the back of my head as my hips jolt upwards into his face. “m-matt im gonna cum.” i whimper, my hands pushing his head closer to my cunt. ”cum for me angel.” matt whispered, making the knot in my stomach unknot. he lapped up anything that he could and his mouth detached from my pussy.

his slender fingers curled up into me a few more times before he kissed my clit softly one last time. matt let soft wet open mouthed kisses on my inner thighs. “lets finish giving you that massage, yeah?” he laughed, as if he didn’t just practically make out with my pussy. “yes, please.” i pant out with a lazy smile on my face. we both giggled about it for the next few minuetes of matt kneeding his fingers into my skin.

taglist ;; @cheetahmadi @sturniol0s @luverboychris @mattsluttywaist

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chrissfawn #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

2K notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 months ago

Text

I Put A Spell On You.

‘Smoke’wants you back, and he’ll do whatever it takes.

(Part one maybe?)

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You better stop the things you do

I tell you, I ain't lying

I ain't lying…

Word got around that Smoke was back in town. You couldn’t miss him with his snazzy suit’s silhouette characterized by broad shoulders, a high waist, and wide-leg trousers. A quintessential element in a man’s wardrobe. The whispers traveled to many ears, but it was only one pair he was concerned with.

Rosetta Scott.

A dilly he’s obsessed with. His soft-spoken jazz singer. She ended their relationship when Smoke decided to up and leave New Orleans with his ill-tempered identical twin brother, but he promised he’d be back and to write him. After two years, he’s back and ready to stake his claim on his woman.

Smoke hopped out of his Cadillac 16 cylinder wearing round, small sunglasses with wired frames. He removed his 8-panel hat and shut the door behind him. Smoke took a long drag of his blunt while staring straight ahead with a lopsided grin.

The reflection within the circular lenses of his dark frames was one he’d missed for years. A living tapestry of culture, history, and an unmistakable passion for life. This place, with its rhythmic streetcars and the spicy aromas from its kitchens, isn't just alive; it breathes stories at every corner.

Stretching his long legs with a purposeful gait, his expensive gaiters picking up dirt, Smoke pushed open the withering, wooden, hinge doors leading into a lively establishment. The smell of fish fry, sweat, cheap cologne, weed, and sex titillating his nose caused a wide grin to spread across his thick lips. He slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing piercing, brandy-eyes and a primal desire.

There she was. Doing what she loved. He was joyful. Proud.

laidback with rhythmic flexibility.

That husky breathy tone.

Her vocals always had a very raw unedited feel which made her songs feel more real and personal. She also tends to use harmonies and layering which sometimes gives the song a drowning all consuming affect.

The silk of her flowing silver slip seemed to mold into her hourglass frame. The premium fur shawl she wore hung loosely from her glistening shoulders. Her lips the color of ox blood stained the mic in front of her. The swing and blues notes with complex chords blending with her sultry voice had everyone on that floor dirty dancing.

Smoke broke his eyes away reluctantly, taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of a chair. He ashed out his blunt and placed it in the front pocket of his crisp, white button down. Smoke made his way towards the bar, unbuttoning his sleeves and his shirt along the way.

“Yes, daddy! Play that saxophone!”

“Sing it Rose!”

“Let’s Jive!”

“Ooooweee! If it ain’t Mr. Smoke Stack himself! Come over here!”

Smoke chuckled deeply before dabbing up his uncle and the owner of the establishment; Buck. His liquor breath and gold teeth were two things you remembered about Big Buck. Or, how he’d like to call it ‘I’m Big Buck and I like to fuck’. And boy did he get his share of pussy. He had eight kids to prove it.

“Look at my nephew! Now hold on…where is your twin?” Buck’s yellowing eyes wandered around in search of him.

“He’s handlin’ business. No time to settle. You know how he get. I had to break away tho’ I got business to ‘tend to.”

Smoke accepted a glass of whiskey and took a long sip. It burned so good down his throat.

“Yeah, uh-huh. We know why’s you here! That gal. You know she’s seeing someone else, right?”

The corner of his upper lip fluttered with disdain at the thought of another man touching his bitch. Smoke wasn’t having it. One look into his eyes, she’d fall into his lap again. Wet puss and all. She wrote him often. Sent him pictures. He’d gotten them all. So, was she doing all that while messing with some squat-ass fool?

“Gimme the low down, Buck.” Smoke insisted impatiently.

“Aight, nephew. Another?”

Smoke raised his glass, “hold the hail. I don’t need no watered down shit. I’m tryna get swacked.”

Buck’s gut laugh filled the cramped space between them.

“You remember Phonzo?”

“Shid, not pussy ass Phonzo? C’mon now gal…”

“Damn straight. He wines and dines her. Buys her shit…”

“She using.” Smoke replied.

He turned his eyes on her again. She looked so damn fine. Mmm. That body was nice. He could smell her perfume on his mustache. That amber scented flesh. Smoke knocked the rest of his drink back and stood from his seat at the bar. She ended another song and received a standing ovation. Smoke pushed his way towards the front but before he could get there, a man reached out to help her down. Her joyous laugh made Smoke’s stomach churn.

“Put me down, baby! I had too much to drink!”

“it’s Smoke Stack!”

All eyes fell towards the handsome gangster. Smoke ignored all except those pretty, doe eyes that locked on him with utter shock. Short and stacked. The finest woman in all of Louisiana. Ain’t no way she’s giving all that to Phonzo. Smoke pressed forward, his penetrating eyes racking over Rosetta’s frame. It was easy to tell the twins apart because one had a noticeable scar on his face and the other didn’t.

“Well I’ll be,” Phonzo secured his arm around Rosetta’s waist tighter, “Smoke. What’s shaking, man?”

Smoke’s lips remained tightly sealed and his eyes never left his Rosey. Tension was thick in the air like the sound of the powerful double bass.

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

You got have your beer in your bottle

Give me my cool kind hands…

“Rosey…”

Rosetta parted her deep-red lips to speak.

“Smoke…”

That voice. He’d missed it.

Smoke Stack was seeing red.

“Get yo’ hands off my woman, Phonzo.”

“You think you can just show up? This ain’t your woman anymore, Smoke. You proved that when you left her for the taking. Go on somewhere now…”

Phonzo attempted to walk away with Rosetta in his grasp, but Smoke swiftly grabbed her hand, swinging her over towards him with an expert twirl of her beautiful frame. She collided with his sturdy chest, her eyes staring up at him.

Rosetta was still trying to pick her jaw up from the floor. She couldn’t believe Smoke was back. The familiar warmth of his much larger and more powerful frame sent images swirling through her mind of the times they’ve shared. She hadn’t received a letter from him in almost a year. Every single day she worried herself about him. However, Rosetta had entertained the thought of being with Phonzo. Tonight would have been the night that she would have given Phonzo a taste of what Smoke Stack dicked down. It was an act of desperation.

“Rose! Whatchu doin’ gal? Don’t let this fool back into your life!” Phonzo reached his hand out for her to take, “I won’t leave you like he did. Remember? I promised that trip to Chicago. We can pack up and catch a train!”

“I’ll take her to Chicago, to Trinidad, Paris, wherever my money goes, she goes. You had your fun tryna get what’s mine. I suggest you fade, Phonzo…”

Um, make me another two bit pint

'Cause I've got my habits down

I'm gonna wreck this joint…

“Let’s go,” Smoke had a strong grip on Rosetta’s hand as he placed her in front of him to walk away.

Rosetta finally gathered her thoughts. She halted her footsteps inches away from the bar.

“Hold on, Smoke,” She pointed a red nail at him sternly, “How dare you show up here like this?! I haven’t heard from you in over a year! You can’t just walk up in here and whisk me away like some night in shining armor! Who do you think you are?!”

“Says which? I’ve written you!” Smoke shouted back.

“I ain’t get one letter in a year!”

Smoke kisses his teeth, “That’s some bullshit and you know it. Maybe the letters got mixed up…none of that matters now, baby. I’m back. For good now…”

Buck and another bartender watched the two of them go back and forth with amusement.

“We’ll see how long that lasts!” Rosetta sassed.

A gun clicking had Smoke on high alert. He pushed Rosetta behind him and turned, staring down into the barrel of a pistol. Phonzo was sweating bullets. He had two of his lackeys behind him, posted up like they were ready to do damage. Rosetta clung onto the sticky bar top, peeking around to see what the ruckus was about.

“Time to knock you off that high horse. You and that brother of yours don’t run shit ‘round here no more. Give me back my bitch, and we can get back to jivin’.”

“Excuse me?!” Rosetta argued, “I got your bitch—”

“Rosey, relax, baby. Daddy got this.” Smoke looked from the pistol pointed at his chest, to Phonzo with a sinister smile, “You off the cob or something, Phonzo?”

“You tryna make me look pussy in front of my boys?!”

Smoke tilted his head to size up his ‘boys’.

“They shakin’ in they boots just like you. C‘mon now, Phonzo. We can do this the easy way…you put that steel down, and walk away. I came for my woman and that’s it. Pick yo’ self up and use those bony-ass pegs and leave.”

Laugher erupted around them. Patrons watched on like it was a live performance. Phonzo always hated being the laughingstock. No one took him seriously. People tolerated him because Smoke and his twin skipped town to handle business.

“I ain’t going nowhere!” Phonzo yelled.

He pressed his gun into Smoke’s chest hard.

“Nigga, you ain’t got shit—”

Smoke picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and cracked it over Phonzo’s head. When Phonzo dropped to his knees with shards of glass embedded in his face, Smoke snatched his pistol up and pointed it at the two men that were once standing proud. They both shared a look with each other before bending over to pick Phonzo up.

Smoke placed the pistol in the waistband of his slacks and snatched a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean up the blood that seeped from a gash in the palm of his hand. People were used to violence ‘round here. Too drunk, high, and horny to care about Phonzo bleeding out onto the floor. Buck didn’t blink an eye as he shined a new glass before pouring a gentleman a glass of top shelf whiskey.

“Get ‘em out. Don’t come back, nigga. I’ll use your pistol to put a bullet in yo’ head fuckin’ wit’ me!”

Phonzo—delirious and bloody—was dragged out of the juke joint by his two loyal men. Smoke knew that as soon as Phonzo regained consciousness, he’ll be on the hunt for him. Smoke was ready.

Smoke took a seat at the bar and pulled Rosetta into him. Blunt between his lips, glass of whiskey in front of him, Rosetta gave him a light, watching her daddy with lust.

You know I can't stand it

You're running around

You know better, baby

I can't stand it 'cause you put me down

Oh, no…

“Smoke, Daddy…”

Rosetta took the blunt from between his lips and hit it. He watched her with low, hazy eyes. All he did was walk through those doors. She was at his mercy like he’d never left.

“You’ll really take me to Paris?”

Smoke accepted his blunt, “I’ll take you all over the world, baby…listen, I know I got some makin’ up to do, but don’t you ever do no shit like that again, hear me? I’m a always come back to you…”

“You right about that makin’ up,” Rosetta giggled, “We got all night though. Phonzo was my ride home…”

“Here, go grab my jacket and we can go.”

Smoke tapped Rosetta on her rump and pointed to where he placed his suit jacket. He paid his tab and promised to be back to catch up with his uncle. Rosetta returned and Smoke grabbed her by the hand, ushering her out of the juke joint and into the murky night.

_______________

Smooth leather seats, a pistol on the dash, windows rolled down.

Rosetta and her fur shawl sat elegantly next to a hunk of a gangster. She admired the stain of her lipstick on his cheek when she stole a quick kiss while he opened her door for her.

She missed her Smoke Daddy so damn bad. It hurt to the bone. Smoke could feel her pretty eyes on him and he glanced over to her, giving her a dimpled smirk filled with mischief. They were halfway there to her apartment above a boutique.

“I missed you, Rosey. So much.”

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine…

“Where did you go?”

Smoke took a moment to respond.

“…My brother had business in Texas. Then we picked up some jobs throughout the south. Made enough money to last us a lifetime…Made some bad choices, but I’m richer. Stronger. Ready to sweep you off yo’ feet. I want you to travel the world and sing to audiences bigger than that hole in the wall. Serious, gal.”

Rosetta blinked away tears.

“Don’t do none of that, baby. No crying…”

“I’m just glad ya ain’t dead somewhere in a ditch!”

Rosetta accepted a clean handkerchief from Smoke. She dabbed her eyes to avoid messing up her makeup.

“I made a promise to get back to you and I meant that.”

Rosetta exhales, “I know, daddy…I just…I’ve been so touch starved. I would’ve given Phonzo all of me if you hadn’t shown up…”

Smoke’s nostrils flared and he looked at her with those dark eyes that made her clench her thighs.

“Phonzo don’t know what to do wit’ all that. And you belong to me. All of you. You make that pussy cum while Daddy was away?”

“Yes…but it wasn’t enough. I miss the fuckin’ we used to do…”

Smoke’s Cadillac slowed to a stop in front of the boutique Rosetta’s mother owned. She worked there for extra money, but now that Smoke was back, she didn’t have to work. Smoke opened her door and helped her out. Shutting it, they walked towards the shop and Rosetta opened the door with a single gold key. Smoke observed his surroundings with a sharp eye before following her inside. It was dark, but the moonlight ignited a path for them leading towards a narrow staircase leading up to Rosetta’s apartment that she shared with her mother.

She had some privacy for now since her mother went away to visit family in Baton Rouge for a week. The boutique was closed until she returned. Rosetta opened the door and flicked on a light. It was exactly how Smoke had remembered it. Small and cozy and blessed by a woman that practiced root work. Rosetta walked into their small kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a pitcher of water. She poured a glass for Smoke and herself.

“You can stay for a few days until momma comes back. It don’t matter how grown I am, she don’t like men over…”

“I get it. I’ll have a place to stay. Then you can leave here and be wit’ me.”

“Smoke…”

Smoke finished his glass, sat it on the counter, and pulled Rosetta close. His hands caressed her back and dragged down to cuff her cheeks. Eyes locked on her face, he brought his plump lips to her own, pecking them with soft kisses. Rosetta whimpered and shifted, slightly raising one foot. Smoke hooked his strong arm around her trim waistline. His other hand squeezed the flesh of her plump ass.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you, Rose? Couldn’t wait for daddy to come back?”Smoke asked with his lips barely touching hers, “That’s alright, though…Im gon’ remind you just who you belong to...”

Suddenly, Smoke delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Rosetta gasped as she felt the sting of each slap.

“Smoke, I’m sorry…I didn’t fuck him…I swear.” Rose pleaded.

“But you gave ‘em hope. If I hadn’t shown up…”

His wide hand lifted her silk dress over her ass and he went to town whacking each cheek—left, right, left—the pain increasing. Rosetta buried her face into his chest, her lipstick staining his shirt. Smoke palmed her cheeks hard, savoring the heft of that juicy flesh in his rough hands.

“Damn,” Smoke stared over her shoulder and down at her rump, “this big ass…mmm…mmm…mmm…I wanna look at that pussy, baby…I still have that picture of your pussy in my wallet…”

Rosetta set up a camera and took photos of herself nude before sending them off to whatever address Smoke told her to send it to. He’d beat his fat dick every night to all her photos. He stole a pair of her panties as a reminder of her scent. Anything to keep his sanity.

“You do?” Rosetta stared up at Smoke.

“Yeah,” Smoke retrieved his wallet from his pocket. He presented the photo to Rosetta. It had cracks in it from being folded, but her hairy mound, phat clit, and glistening folds stood out against the black and white, “She still nice and bushy?”

Smoke had a thing for hair. He hated whenever Rosetta would do a clean shave. Since he’d been gone, she’d started shaving again. Luckily, there was enough hair there to satisfy his desires.

“Not too much, daddy…”

“Mm,” Smoke flicked his tongue against her lips.

“I want you to do it to me, daddy…”

“Do it all night long, baby?”

“Do it to me, papa…”

Smoke’s dick jumped and stretched to proportions he couldn’t handle.

“I wanna suck on that pussy first…”

Rosetta’s clit twitched at the thought of Smoke slurping on her pussy cat until she was wrung dry. She had a lot for him to drank up. When she first laid eyes on him tonight, the wetness soaked through and created a slippery, sticky mess. Those big lips and that thick dick…

“Let me smell it,” Smoke picked Rosetta up and sat her down on the cramped counter space, “Spread your fuckin’ legs you sexy, bitch…”

Rosetta made quick work of her thighs spreading wide and limber. Smoke could see a big wet spot in the crotch of her cotton panties. He didn’t waste time stroking the outlines of her fat lips that strained against the fabric. Smoke chuckled before slipping her panties to the side. His fingertips graced coarse hair covered in slick and heat. Beyond that was a clit made to be suckled.

“Shit, she still get nice and wet for me,” Smoke admired the shine on his thick fingers before bringing it to his nose to take a whiff, “fuccck,” He pushed his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean, “Fresh pussy…taste so good…”

He was down on his knees with his fingers tangled in her panties to keep them out of his way. Rosetta brought one leg up and it opened her lips more for him to eat. The humidity of that kitchen had their brown skin glistening beneath the dim, yellow, lamp lights. Smoke spread her lips and stared into her pussy. Rosetta stroked his slick-back, begging him to put his face in it.

Smoke buried his nose in it first. He rubbed her clit with the tip of his nose before using his lips to encase her clit and suck. He sucked nice and slow to warm her up, but then he created a vortex so tight with his lips Rosetta almost fell from the counter. The sucking came at a rapid pace—precise and intense.

“Uhnnn,” Rosetta gasped and moaned, “Daddy!”

Rosetta stroked her pussy many times to one of her favorite raunchy tunes. Jump Steady Daddy by Lucille Bogan stayed on repeat whenever she rubbed on her clit to the thought of her Smoke Daddy. She missed when he would come to her late at night, sneak in her bed and eat her pussy. She loved it when he would be on his knees, holding her weight up and fucking into her.

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

And if you love me like I did

You'll be that jump steady man of mine…

“Yes, ooh, daddy, papa,” Rosetta’s thighs shook out of her control, “Ima cum…Ima cum…”

The thin straps of her silk slip dangled from her shoulders and perspiration trickled down her spine. She didn’t have time to prepare before she was creaming down Smoke’s chin. All he did was suck her clit. He came up for air, lips dripping wet and face glistening with cum.

Her nipples poked out through her slip, teasing Smoke’s eyes. He was as hard as stone, unable to bear the feeling anymore. Smoke stood and picked Rosetta up from the counter, carrying her towards her room. The door was ajar, so all he needed to do was nudge it and he was walking inside. He didn’t bother closing the door. Smoke placed Rosetta on her back, climbing on top of her and sticking his tongue in her mouth.

Rosetta smoothed his button down shirt over his shoulders and Smoke pulled his arms through. He had on a white beater that clung to his muscles like plaster. Smoke broke his lips away and trailed kisses down her neck until he was at the tops of her breasts. Rosetta arched up into his chest, soft moans music to his ears.

Smoke used his teeth to yank the rest of her slip down, revealing 34 C breasts with large nipples that reminded him of chocolate-covered gum drops. Rosetta dragged her nails through his hair, messing up the smoothness of it, revealing waves. Her updo had come undone, finger-waved hair falling into her eyes. The salty, sweet taste of her skin caused him to growl.

“Daddy…I wanna taste that dick…”

With a deep exhale, Smoke stood up. Rosetta sat up on her knees with her dress around her waist and went to work undoing his slacks. She pushed down his boxers and his pants in one motion, his dick bobbing out like a pendulum and hitting her on the chin. Rosetta admired how girthy and veiny her daddy’s dick is. She licked up the precum before it was wasted and with her eyes on him, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked.

“Ahhhh…There you go, baby…that’s how you welcome me home…suck this big boy…gobble it up…”

Her soft hair in his grasp, Smoke’s toned hips pumped her throat. He curled his top lip, revealing golds, grunting at the feel of her tight throat.

“Ugh, fuck, baby…the best dick suckin’ bird in N’awlins…”

Rosetta giggled in response. She prided herself in her skills. Sucking dick and riding dick was her specialty. Smoke licked his lips, eyes barely open as he watched her. He tilted his head and started drilling her mouth. Loud gagging noise started, Rosetta’s once pristine makeup now running down her face.

“You’re so beautiful wit’ my dick in your throat, baby…make daddy cum…so I can fuck that pussy…”

His girth increased, Rosetta’s jaws tightening. She grabbed hold of his balls and worked her neck like no other. Smoke chewed on his bottom lip and threw his head back.

“Hmmm….mmmmmm….”

His hips spasmed out of control. Rosetta almost choked on his thick cum. She had to spit his dick out just to swallow what she could. The rest painted her chest.

“Turn that ass over,” Smoke stepped out of his pants and with one hand on his long dick, he pumped it, “On your knees, gal.”

Rosetta brought that ass in the air and arched her back deep. Smoke stood behind her with a big dick swinging. Rosetta hadn’t felt it in two years. She was afraid. Shaking with fear. He had to open her up again.

“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” Smoke slapped her cheeks around, “Where you want this dick?”

“Daddy, fuck me!” Rosetta begged.

His dick aligned with her ass and with his big hands he tucked it higher. Smoke grunted and slapped her bouncy cheeks.

“Ouch! Papa…” Rosetta cried, more from surprise.

It hurt so good. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of her ass, leaving behind a burning sting that only made her wiggle her ass against him. Smoke rubbed her down before digging his fingers into the flesh, spreading her wide, and thrusting into her.

“Oh, my! Smoke!”

Rosetta’s ass recoiled and bounced off of Smoke’s sturdy hips. He had her by the hair, keeping her back arched. That man was fucking her like he was fresh out of jail. His thick shaft gave her stretch and his length made her feel it in her stomach. The sound of her wet pussy matched the skin-slapping.

“Big dick on you! Fuck!”

Smoke let go of her hair and grabbed her hips. Rosetta looked back at him with her mouth agape and brows knitted together in disbelief. His hair had puffed up and some strands fell over his forehead. He looked wild and sexy. Muscles flexing, golds flashing, eyes unblinking.

“Keep fuckin’ me, papa! Fuck this wet pussy, daddy! Oh my goddddd—”

Rosetta fell forward and buried her face in the sheets.

“Uh-uh,” Smoke brought one leg up, leaned over her, and wrapped a hand around her throat, “You can take this dick. Get that shit you want so bad,” Smoke said.

Every cry or whimper that came out of her mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a groan of his own in her ear.

“Grip me up like that…good girl…that’s it baby…”

Rosetta felt hot liquid trickling down her thighs. Tears brimmed her eyes and her body seized up with her release. Smoke withdrew his hips and got down behind her to lick her up. He licked her thighs, then trailed his spit to her folds. He rolled her onto her back and scooted her towards the edge of the bed. Ass hanging off, legs thrown over his shoulders, Smoke put that dick in her pussy and pounded up into her with sharp thrusts that had her toes curling.

“Oh, shit!” Rosetta and her swinging titties couldn’t handle it, “Damnit, Smoke! I’m cumin’ !!!!!”

Scooting her onto the bed, he pile-drived her into the creaky mattress. Folded in half was an understatement. She stared down the valley of his impressive body at his dick.

“Big Daddy!” Rosetta pressed her feet into his chest, “Fuck me good! Take this pussy!”

“This my fuckin’ pussy…”

Smoke slammed into her before dropping down to kiss her soft lips again. His thrusts turned into modulated pumps that caused her to gasp. Each time his dick would enter her, she would gasp with surprise. Smoke nibbled on her pouty bottom lip and stared into her eyes longingly.

You know I love you

I love you

I love you anyhow

And I don't care

If you don't want me

I'm yours right now…

“Cum for me Smoke Daddy…”

His forehead furrowed and with one more sharp thrust, he erupted deep in her womb.

———————-

498 notes · View notes

mjolnirswriststrap · 9 months ago

Text

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

1K notes · View notes

blughxreader · 1 year ago

Text

... "Re-connection Session" ...

A/B/O Platonic Yandere! Dick Grayson & Jason Todd x f! Reader

You never should have let Damian sleep in your lap, especially after rejecting Dick and Jason's request for attention. Now you have their jealousy to resolve. ... Dick and Jason are alphas and you are an omega. People can purr in this AU. ... TW: Blurred lines between family and intimacy, post-kidnap, non-consensual touching, forced proximity, being forced to undress, non-sexual nudity, traditional secondary gender roles

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror in silent dread.

Dick's old shirt hung low on your frame, the neckline falling past your collarbones and the hem dropping to your fingertips. The sleeves, thankfully, covered you to your elbows, but the desired effect was the same: easy access to your body.

This, accompanied by your underwear and Jason's basketball shorts were all you were allowed to wear.

Fear sat in your stomach line a rock. You were sure you were releasing enough panic pheromones to alert the whole house, but there was no frantic knocking to save you. Just you, your pounding heart, and the two men on the other side of the door.

Wiping your sweaty hands down your pants, you gave yourself one last look before leaving the bathroom. Dick's bedroom spread out before you, filled with old memorabilia and a large, plush bed in the center.

Dick and Jason were leaning against the wall in wait, arms crossed and heads tilted back. Dick grinned when he saw you.

"Alright, good," he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. "It's a little late for an afternoon nap, so movie time?"

Dick's scent clung to you like a cologne, sweet and tangy. An alpha's smell was already stronger to omegas, but being wrapped in his shirt and pressed into his side was almost overwhelming. Jason, whose scent was more earthy and metallic, was a small reprieve.

Jason looked you up and down, appraising your posture and expression. You knew it was useless to try to hide your feelings, but you couldn't fight the urge to look away. You crossed your arms to cover yourself.

He reached over and ran a hand over your temple, brushing back stray curls. Jason, while never the most emotive on a day-to-day basis, had a cloudy expression today. His gaze bore into you, drinking up every micro-expression you tried to hide and cataloguing each one.

"No trash TV," Jason finally said. He dropped his hand and fell into stride with you and Dick, who was guiding you to his bed.

Dick dipped his head down so his cheek brushed your forehead. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything is fine."

"Nope, that's not allowed," Dick lightly scolded. "This weekend's all about getting familiar. You need to learn how to go along with the family."

Your mind blanked as you scrambled to remember any move you've ever seen before. Embarrassment pricked your cheeks. "Maybe Pixar..."

Dick stopped you at the edge of the bed. He ruffled the back of Jason's hair before slapping his back, earning his hand a hard swat.

"You first, little wing."

Jason rolled his eyes and climbed on the bed, flopping into place on the silk covers. Dick ushered you on next with gentle hands, not giving you an inch of space as he followed suit.

You were settled into Jason's side, your front pressing into the long expanse of his body. Jason shifted and pulled off his shirt with one hand, tossing it off the bed before leaning back into you.

Your insides lurched at his naked chest, and you were boneless when he guided your head to rest on his shoulder. Jason's body was warm and sturdy. He eclipsed you in ways that made your heart flutter.

You tighten your arms around your chest to keep these stray feelings at bay.

Dick settled behind you with a happy sigh, shirtless as well. He weaseled your arm out of your hold and settled it over Jason's chest to maximize contact, then rested his hand on your waist.

His breath fanned the back of your head when he whispered, "I'm going to lift your shirt up now."

You held back a whimper when his hand slid beneath your shirt, trailing up your stomach to settle between your ribs. His palm spread flat, fingers reaching the better half of your stomach. He was dangerously close to brushing your breasts, but remained careful not to stray too far up.

Jason's hand trailed in next, gliding over your hip and up your spine, where it settled between your shoulder blades. His thumb brushed up and down in slow, even strokes.

They were everywhere. Their arms lay flushed against your body, touching as much skin as they possibly could, while their stomachs pressed into yours where your shirt had slid up. Their nudged your legs until you were tangled in theirs.

As hard as you tried to fight it, it was instinctual for pack members to seek physical contact. Touch was one of the most primal and easiest ways to show affection and community, so you knew that your days of solitude were numbered.

But this...

Tingles spread through your whole body, exacerbated by how touch-starved you were. The feeling of oneness, of unbridled intimacy with your family, sank deep into your heart.

Resist, resist, resist. You're stronger than these urges.

Your breathing accelerated. You knew what to expect going into this, but nothing could have prepared you for how emotionally penetrating it was. It was as if your very nature and mind were at war.

A steady purr rumbled in their chests as they basked in your company, soaking in as much of your warmth as they could. Jason's nose brushed your forehead, placing feather light kisses where he could reach. Dick was crooning.

Cold sweat prickled your skin.

Your hand tightened around Jason's back as claustrophobia set in. The purring turned to a low rumble and the pheromones in the air turned sour.

"Hey," Jason said softly. "You have to settle down."

You swallowed thickly to abate your fear. "You guys got defensive."

Dick nudged his nose on your neck, right above your scent glands. "Because you started smelling scared."

Oh.

You inhale shakily to calm your nerves. Jason hummed in your ear, a low, pleased sound.

"Good girl," he said. "Keep doing that. We have you."

You sucked in a sharp breath in defiance. Jason humphed. Dick laughed against your skin and squeezed your stomach playfully, grinning as he said, "You're as bad as Damian."

They nestled you tighter between them, purrs rumbling anew. Amidst the panic in your chest stirred another feeling. Maybe it's because you're getting drunk on an alpha's attention, but you felt a childish need to complain.

"How long will this take?" You asked, shifting uncomfortably between their sandwiched bodies.

Jason's face tightened around his eyes. "As long as it takes."

"For what?" you asked, frustration bubbling up your throat. "I've more than made up for turning you down yesterday."

"You need to want our touch," Dick said. He hesitated, mulling over if he should continue, then went on. "I think that if you let your guard down for a second and trusted your instincts, you would understand how much you need this."

"My guard is down. I'm completely defenseless," you hissed.

"Not what he was talking about. And that's what I'm not understanding, either," Jason said, frowning. "You're confused. You're completely out of touch with yourself."

The silence was heavy. They were waiting for you to speak, but you didn't trust anything that would come out of your mouth. You let the silence stretch on.

Jason's grimace deepened. "Are you having trouble being an omega because you were never taught how to be one?"

You scoffed, scandalized. Your frustration sparked into flames. "Because I don't know my place in an alpha's narrative?"

"No," Jason said defensively. "Because you don't know how to purr."

You couldn't respond.

You hadn't purred in years because there was no reason to. You weren't young, haven't dated in ages, didn't have any kids, and you definitely weren't about to purr for the Bats.

"I haven't heard you croon either. Or even ask to be held," Dick mumbled in thought.

Heat crept up your neck. They were wading in embarrassing waters now. You weren't a loser, just a little lonely—that's the only reason you stopped doing omegean things. And being their captive was a good enough reason to withhold everything.

These thoughts were enough when you were alone, but the shame creeping up your chest was startling.

Jason's hand drifted to your face, fingers sliding gently over your cheek. He used a knuckle to brush the tears from your eyelashes.

"It's okay to face these scary feelings," Jason whispered, face mere inches away. He looked at you with sad, loving eyes, while his scent was a whirlwind of conflicting emotion. Hope. Pity. Anger. Love.

Dick kissed the shell of your ear, thumb gliding over your skin where his hand rested. A soft rumble drifted from his chest. He said, "You're safe with us. It'll come naturally if you just let it."

The crux was that you didn't want to try. You wanted to withhold every valuable part of yourself from them and to make them pay for ruining your life.

But at the same time, you yearned to have a family. There was a vital part in your heart that was missing, one that could only be filled by belonging and love. You didn't want to ignore your secondary gender but you didn't want to share it with them, either.

Don't whimper. Don't smell like you want help.

You clamped your jaw shut and squeezed your eyes closed. Their pheromones filled the air with comfort, home, want, and it took every ounce of willpower to ignore the alphas' scents.

Jason kissed your eyelid, cupping your head in his palm. His purring and crooning joined Dick's, and it nearly drowned out your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

---

You passed the night in a daze. They nudged you to try to croon or purr, washing you with their scents and physical contact, but their efforts didn't yield results. Outwardly, that is.

Inside, you were swimming with panic and haziness.

Skin-to-skin touching was starting to take a toll on you. In a stronger headspace, you could ignore the pleasant allure of touching them, but your boundaries and primal needs were beginning to blur.

They felt good. They felt safe. You wanted to cling to Jason's chest and sob in relief at finally being wanted. You wanted Dick to keep cooing and petting you like you were the most cherished thing in his life. Each kiss stoked a fire you were desperately trying to put out.

At the same time, your defiance was making them restless. Dick and Jason had begun to smell more potent and move more assertively. Omegas weren't meant to resist their alpha pack members, especially in a domestic setting.

Despite a tiring night of caressing and pleading, you didn't loosen your tight control on your emotions. Dick and Jason were still completely cut off from you, and you could tell they were thinking of ways to get you to fold.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, accompanied by the muffled voices of Sunday morning cartoons. All of you were on Dick's bed and eating in silence.

The soup in your lap was one of Alfred's "sick soups." It was hardy and chock-full of vegetables and pork, and made especially to ease the tension in the room.

Their heavy gazes kept your head bowed as you tried to eat what little food you could.

Dick's bowl clinked as he set it on the floor.

"Submission isn't shameful," he said suddenly. "Is that what this is? You think it makes you less of a person?"

You look down into your soup, lips tightening. "No, I know it's fine... I would just prefer to keep things how they are."

"Why?" Dick said, scooting closer to you.

"It's my choice."

"No, why?" Frustration cut into Dick's voice. "I'm trying to work with you."

"Is bodily autonomy not a good enough reason?" You bit back. "I don't know, Dick. 'No' should be a good enough answer."

Jason's hand touched your back, making you lurch forward. Soup nearly spilled from your bowl, but Dick caught it in time. Jason sighed angrily while Dick set your food on the bedside table.

"This isn't normal," Jason said hotly. "Omegas shouldn't flinch at their caretakers, especially when they're treated as well as you are."

You gripped the bed sheets, guilt filtering in at the truth in his words. "Sorry," you said meekly.

Jason deflated slightly, then brought his hand back up. It settled on the nape of your neck, his large palm cupping the entire surface. Tingles rippled through your body and ignited goosebumps across your back.

Jason rested his head on yours, absently rubbing the scent pad in his cheek on your hair. He said, "Did something bad happen that made you afraid?"

"No," you said quickly. Aside from being kidnapped by them, that is.

Dick moved in closer. His voice was soft. "Then why?"

"I just..." You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your eyes with a palm. "This domesticity just isn't for me."

"You need to practice," Dick reiterated. "Maybe we can give you a simple command and you follow it? So you'll get used to how it feels?"

You peek between your fingers to glare at him.

"No, really. I read some omegean blogs that said yielding to your alpha's orders feels really good." Dick looked between you and Jason hopefully. "Or we can read some articles by older omegas so you know how to handle your feelings?"

You held back a sharp comment about where he can shove those articles. Instead you said, "Only people with religious agendas write those things."

Jason looked like he agreed, but he didn't take your side.

"We can't do nothing," Jason said, eyes flitting up to Dick.

Dick sucked the inside of his cheek. "And she's unresponsive to positive reinforcement and suggestions."

Fear brewed in your gut. "What are you implying?"

Dick touched your knee, drawing your attention to his face. "You need to purr. Or present submissive pheromones. It'll break the dam so everything comes out easier."

A blush swept up your face and you jerked your knee away from him. "You can't just ask that. No. My answer is no."

Dick's gaze returned to Jason's. Dick frowned, then quirked a brow. "People purr to self-sooth, too."

You tensed. "Dick. Stop."

Jason hesitated, face pinching at the fear in your scent. "What do you suggest?"

"Full body contact and commands. It'll overwhelm her, so she'll self-sooth then default to the natural order."

"Jason." Your voice was high and sharp. "Make him stop. This is wrong."

"Jay," Dick said, looking every bit as sincere as he sounded. "I know you're apprehensive, but she won't come to this conclusion herself. She needs to be guided in a controlled environment."

Jason's face screwed up in worry. "It's traumatic."

"Temporarily. She'll be in our care the whole time," Dick reassured him. "It'll be over the moment she submits."

"Please, Jason, no!" You pushed your face into Jason's chest, clinging to his chest. Tears poured down your face as you shook. "I'm sorry, I'll try harder. Whatever this is, don't do it."

Jason's jaw set, the muscles in his neck flexing. "Then purr."

"What?"

"I'm giving you a way out. You have to trigger your primal state and ask for our care. It's not something you can do manually, so start by purring."

"I..." Your breath caught in your lungs. You were too scared to purr, much less seek their comfort for anything.

You swallowed hard and coughed weakly, trying to activate your secondary vocal cords.

Several moments of silence passed before a small huff of a rumble left your throat. It sounded pathetic to your own ears, probably more-so to theirs, and your throat constricted from embarrassment.

"Forcing me won't make me want to... do that," you said weakly, breath hitching from your tears. "Isn't there another way?"

Dick sighed deeply. "Thanks for trying."

He leaned in and kissed your neck, rubbing his hand in comforting circles on your back. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, still shaking against Jason's chest. Dick smiled softly and kissed your neck again before drawing back.

"Jason," Dick said, "hold her feet down."

Jason's hands clamped around your legs before you could register Dick's words. Your world tilted and you were on your back before you could shout.

"No! Please!" You thrashed against his hold when Dick descended on you.

Dick put a hand on your chest to keep you down, then pinned you with his knee. Your hands clawed everywhere you could reach, but they paid no mind.

"You're fine. You're wearing underwear, right?" Dick asked. His finger hooked on your waistband, pulling it up to confirm. "Yeah. Look, just focus on breathing."

"No! No!" you shrieked as your pants slipped down your thighs.

Jason kept you from kicking, although it probably wouldn't matter either way. Their bodies were hardened from years of vigilante work and they moved together like a machine.

They unhooked your pants from your ankles and dropped it off the bed. You tried to curl into a ball, but their weight on your body kept you immobile.

You begged again, reaching out to Jason for help. His face was twisted in pain but he made no move to stop it. The comforting scent he pushed out did nothing to quell your panic.

Dick hushed you gently, face pleasant and movements slow, and reached for your shirt.

"I'm not wearing a bra!" you shouted hysterically, trying fruitlessly to push his knee off your chest.

Dick looked down at you patiently. "Then slip your arms in your shirt and cover yourself."

You stared up at him with wide eyes. Was he really, really about to do this? Trigger you so it activates your omegean instincts?

When he grabbed the edge of your shirt, your heart jumped up your throat. You wrangled your arms inside your sleeves and covered your breasts as well as you could.

Dick took his knee off your chest and dragged the shirt up over your body. It slid off with ease, leaving you in only your underwear.

You sobbed loudly.

Jason scooped you into his arms and pulled you up the bed. He settled you on a soft pillow, nuzzling his cheek against yours in silent apology.

You immediately curled into a ball when their hands left you. To your horror you saw them strip off their pants as well, leaving them in only their boxers.

"God, stop," you plead, voice breaking.

"It's okay," Dick whispered as he slid into place in front of you. "We do this all the time. It's important."

Perhaps he was referring to the after-workout cuddle piles, but even those had longer pants and chest coverage for girls.

The heat from their bodies sank into your flesh and disrupted your frantic thinking. Your alphas—no, Dick and Jason, you corrected—held you like you were sacred. It was a feeling of your deepest daydreams come true, to have a pack that was so open about their care for you.

If only they hadn't kidnapped you.

The compulsion to accept their love dug deep in your mind, and you found it harder and harder to remember the reasons why you shouldn't. Your anger began to seem trivial compared to the safety and adoration they promised.

Tears fell down your cheeks again, and you clung to Dick's chest to anchor yourself. He laid several kisses on the crown of your head.

"I'm going to give you some orders, okay?" Dick said. "You'll be compelled to follow them."

"I don't want to," you croaked.

"That time has passed," Jason mumbled, stroking your arm with his thumb.

Dick cleared his throat, and your blood ran cold in anticipation.

"Hold Jason's hand." Dick's alpha voice struck you like a cannon.

The command wound around every corner of your mind. It strangled your freewill in a vice hold, suffocating any lingering thoughts of freedom until all that was left was them.

An alpha's command wasn't absolute, but it was damn near close.

Your insides rattle with a urge to hurry, hurry and complete alpha's orders. Make Brother happy.

Cold sweat spread across your back, making you feel sickly and sticky. Your eyesight narrowed to Dick's chest as you fought off the intrusive thoughts, not noticing anything but your vision blackening around the edges.

Please, no no no no no.

Jason's hand hovered next to yours, making it easy for you to obey.

"I... I c-c..." you stuttered.

Follow, follow, follow, your mind screamed at you. Brother will be disappointed.

You clung to Dick's bicep and screwed your eyes shut. A disapproving growl bubbled in Dick's throat.

"Take it," Dick ordered, grabbing your wrist and holding it above Jason's hand. "It's for your own good, so take it."

Jason bumped his head into yours and pushed you towards Dick's neck. You tried to squirm away, but their bodies kept you immobile, leaving your only option to settle your nose into Dick's neck and breathe.

The smell was intoxicating. It was impossible to fight off—his warm and strong scent flooding your head and making your mind melt.

Without you realizing, a broken whine left your throat. Dick and Jason reacted instantly. They hugged you tighter, shushing you and peppering kisses wherever they could reach.

Their scent changed too. Frustration was pushed out by love, comfort, love, and it smothered your senses. You whimpered, your whole body shuttering from your tears.

Fuck, you wanted your alphas so badly. Your brother's comfort enveloped you and left nothing else to do but welcome it.

Your guilt and doubt multiplied at rapid speed. Maybe you were wrong for rejecting this. Being close and following their orders felt as good as Dick had said, so maybe they were right about other things, too.

"She's defaulting" Jason said, words fast and nervous.

You whined again, broken and airy and filled with all the conflicting misery you felt. Your sense of self slipped between your fingers like water, making room for the person they wanted you to become—who you were commanded to become.

The heat of their bodies made your world spin. Their loving touches make your mind blank.

Dick shushed you and cooed comforting words, and the resilient voice in your head silenced.

Oh god, they felt like your soulmates. This seemed predestined, like you were born to be in their family.

Your exposed bodies pressing together destroyed the illusion of self, giving way to their truest law: you were theirs, body and soul.

"One more time," Dick muttered. His voice deepened to say, "Hold Jason's hand."

You moved without thinking. Your fingers tangled into Jason's, your palm laying flat over his hand.

Relief bloomed in your chest, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted. The compulsion was replaced by deep satisfaction, one you found yourself craving again.

You listened and did good. Brothers are happy. You are loved.

Dick's grin was radiant. Tears sprung in his eyes as emotions overtook him, making his blue irises shine like gems. Quiet sniffles came from behind you, and by the jerkiness in Jason's body, you knew he was crying.

"Good girl," Dick praised, voice watery. "My baby."

Jason's nose pressed into your neck, taking shaky breaths of your scent. It calmed him slightly, yet his voice was still uneven. "She's feeling better. Do another one, Dick."

"Kiss me," Dick ordered.

Your lips pressed against his shoulder, and again on his collarbone. Dick laughed and sniffled, unintelligible croons tumbling from his mouth.

Your mind was a haze, unable to process anything but the two alphas around you. Your brothers were here and you were safe. How had you lived without this love for so long?

It was like an avalanche of pent-up emotions poured into your body. You were relieved to be free, angry at the pain you inflicted on yourself, and so, so happy to belong to Dick and Jason.

"I love you," Jason muttered into your hair.

Dick kissed your face, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over your skin. "I love you so much."

Your inner omega melted.

Love, love, love. Their scent consumed you.

You felt defined by their love, and felt like you would be nothing outside of it.

---

Dick's head was light from glee. "Did you see her stumble out of bed? She was still riding that high."

Jason didn't respond. He sat at the edge of Dick's bed while the aforementioned brother paced around his room.

Dick was too worked up to wait for a response.

"I bet it'll only take a week or two before she seeks the pack out. The attention's like a drug, you know. " Dick waved a hand. "I forgot the chemical. Whatever. But she definitely can't go back to being detached."

Jason's stomach squeezed at Dick's prideful smile.

"I feel slimy," Jason said, gripping his hands together tightly.

Dick abruptly stopped. "What?"

Jason didn't respond. He stared up at Dick with a grim look.

Several expressions passed Dick's face before he said, "That's all you took away from this?"

"I've written papers about why overpowering omegas is outdated and wrong."

"Yeah? I agreed too until we had a hurting omega in our care," Dick said. "Besides, if you feel like that then why didn't you say anything?"

Jason's jaw muscles tightened. "I said using an alpha's command was shitty, not unnecessary."

"It was beautiful, Jason," Dick hissed, temper flaring. "And she'll be happier because of it."

Dick stormed out, his good mood evaporated. The door slammed behind him, and Jason waited until he couldn't hear Dick's stomping before heaving a long sigh.

Jason hoped you wouldn't be too upset once you accepted their care. He made a vow to keep you safe and happy, and he would fulfill that promise even if you hated him for it.

Still, it hurt.

Jason's eyes drifted back to Dick's bed, to the spot where you had been lying. He crawled over and laid down, pushing his face into the sheets, and inhaled your fading scent.

---

For more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere batfamily #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere dc #yandere batman #abo batfam #yandere abo

3K notes · View notes

david-box · 4 months ago

Text

Secondhand store trip completed for absolute necessities. Second trip likely forthcoming but shall be postponed. Tonight, we feast

#me #text #surprisingly short on pants i could use for work but i *may* be able to avoid that.#also need to go back for a jacket sweatpants and baseball cao #but i got pjs and shirts and one (1x) jean so there we go #plus this shop sometimes has SILK AND LINEN????? so yeag #bought two silk shirts. one is lilely for my brother or a friend bc it doesnt quite fit me the other is for whenever #also i remembered pajama sets actually exist there so i gotta buy some but thats risky #button ups dont always fit well and long sleeved ones are also risky #but well see!

0 notes

seresinhangmanjake · 2 months ago

Text

Late Date

Summary: It’s your birthday and Tyler’s going to do some wrangling to make sure no tornado can ruin your day. Unfortunately, that also makes him and the Wranglers a bit late to your party.

Notes/Warnings: Fluff. It’s not angsty at all, despite how the summary may sound. Inaccurate meteorology/tornado stuff. Slight jealousy. This is based on a lyrics request: “you’ve got long hair slicked back white t shirt and I’ve got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” It’s just meant to be kinda cute, and I did my best, so hopefully you guys like it. Comments make my entire world, so if you do like it, let me know :)

Words: 1650

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

It happens often. You and Tyler are enjoying your time together when Disaster suddenly puts you in her path. A picnic in the park, a late-evening rodeo, a dinner date for him to meet your mother—all ruined. And yes, you believe Disaster does this intentionally. Disaster, in the form of a funnel of warm air and moisture, is as much in love with your boyfriend as you are, and she’s a jealous bitch, always calling him away when he’s in the throes of life with you.

Luckily for Tyler, you’re not as jealous as his tornado. You’re not as greedy. When he leaves you to meet her, you let him go because he’s the town hero, and you don’t let your emotions get in the way of his job. After all, he does what he does to save the things he loves—this town, his family, you. And regardless of the time he spends with her, you know you’re his number one.

Today, however, you could do without his job. The jealousy that you have rarely felt up to this point seeps through as he throws your favorite white t-shirt of his over his sculpted chest before buckling the belt wrapped around his jean-clad hips. He stomps one foot down into his boot and then the other before rifling through the dresser chest at the base of the bed.

“You have to do this on my birthday?” you ask, trying not to pout from your seated position on the mattress. The silk sleeve of your robe falls down your shoulder, exposing bare skin, and despite the chill, you don’t pull the garment back up your arm. Anything to keep him in this bed, you think, and for a moment, you you’re satisfied that it might be working. Tyler pauses on his hunt for a clean flannel as his eyes glue to your chest, your pebbled nipples just barely hidden by the rest of the smooth, thin material.

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, but it’s from your touch that Tyler finally blinks, shakes his head, and says, “Darlin’, wouldn’t you rather feel reassured that your evening tonight will go tornado-free? I’m just going to go with the guys, disrupt anything that’s already formed, and observe the conditions as best I can so we don’t get any coming our way when we’re supposed to be celebrating another year of your life.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he hits you with logic, but it’s made harder by the pout on his face. That is supposed to be your pout. He’s the one leaving you on your birthday—decent reason or not—not the other way around.

“Fine,” you say.

Tyler grins from ear to ear. He leans in and captures your lips in a long kiss before pulling back and brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. “We’ll meet you at the bar, ok?”

Nodding, you say, “Yea,” and untangle your arms from his neck. He gives you one last kiss.

“Happy Birthday, darlin’” glides to your ear in his smooth, low voice, and then he’s out the door.

—

“He’ll be here,” your cousin tells you. You’ve been staring at the bar door for a half-hour, disappointed with each new blond cowboy who walks into the crowded space. “When has he ever let you down?”

You sigh. “I know. But why did the bitchy tornadoes have to run wild today of all days? He said they chased four between here and the next town over, and two of them put up a real fight,” you say, relaying the information of Tyler’s earlier texts. “Plus, it’s raining now. That’ll only make it more difficult for them to get back.”

The bartender offers you and your cousin the drinks she ordered. She winks at him and downs the entire glass in one gulp—which he seems to find very impressive—before nudging your glass closer to your folded hands atop the counter.

“Well, the only thing to do is drink up,” she orders. “Might as well have fun while we wait.”

—

You’re two drinks in. Your cousin has knocked back four, and while she’s no lightweight, the effects show in the uptick of her flirtiness with the bartender. She’s agreed to wait around until his shift is over, which was quickly retracted when she remembered that it’s your birthday and the fun she is meant to be having is with you, not the hot guy who stopped charging her for drinks an hour ago. But you assuage her guilt, knowing you have no intention of hanging around a crowded bar until two in the morning unless your boyfriend is going to be with you, birthday or not.

With the acceptance of your third drink, you hope to easier ignore the appreciative glances from the blond cowboys on the other side of the mass of dancers in the center of the room. You must be a sunny-haired, country boy’s type, but they aren’t your man, and to be honest, you’re surprised they’re daring enough to look so long. The town is small enough that you figured by now everyone knows you’re Tyler’s girl, but clearly, that’s not the case. Either that or they just don’t care.

When you start to feel it—the slight high, the looser inhibitions—you decide the best course of action is to simply ignore them, and so you hop down from the stool and make your way to the dance floor to do exactly that, planting yourself in the middle of a group of like-minded women swaying their hips to the tune. Like that, you let yourself go, alcohol allowing you to surrender to the flow of the feminine voice coming through the speakers. Your mind drifts, your eyes close, and when you feel a hand on your waist, you think of Tyler. When hips grind against yours, you think of Tyler. When lips touch your neck, you think of Tyler. And when your eyes open, you see Tyler.

He steps into the bar with the Wranglers in tow, his soaked white t-shirt clinging to his torso that every woman—even those invested in men of their own—notices, his hands slicking back his damp locks. With a grin on his handsome face, he glances around the space in search of you, but when he finds you, that grin drops faster than a rock can hit the ground.

It’s then that you realize the paws on your body are not his. The breath hitting behind your ear is that of a stranger. Tyler’s stomping his way over to you, but you don’t need him to release his building rage because you have plenty of your own.

Flipping around, your palm meets the cheek of one of the knock-off Tylers. He yelps and rubs his face. His irises turn red, and he looks ready to give you a scolding or call you some sort of vile name, but his eyes widen at the shadow that suddenly looms over you and he shrinks where he stands.

“Y-Your girlfriend?” he eeks out.

It’s fascinating to see the demeanor shift. Tyler must have more of a reputation than you realized. You haven’t lived in town long—you moved in with him three weeks ago after a year of long-distance dating—but you’ve known for a while that he is well-loved and anyone who crosses him crosses the town. What you didn’t know was that the people’s devotion to their tornado-wrangling hero could incite such fear. And honestly, you’re a little impressed; a little turned on.

Tilting your chin up, the back of your head lands against your boyfriend’s chest. His arm comes around your waist, hand flattening over your stomach. “You think?” he spits.

When knock-off Tyler skitters back to the gaggle of knock-off Tylers, your Tyler turns you around to face him. With a cocked brow, he says, “Now, darlin’, what was that?”

You shrug. “Thought he was you.”

Tyler looks over your shoulder to the group of blonds. His eyes narrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve had a bit to drink,” you chuckle.

His mouth parts, an ahh sound leaving his throat as if to say, ‘That explains it.’ “Where’s your cousin?” His gaze follows yours to the familiar woman whose body is half thrown over the countertop, her lips connected to the guy whose neglect of other patrons is about to cause a riot. But you don’t care about a likely-to-be-fired bartender; you care that your boyfriend was absent for so much of your birthday.

“What took you so long?”

You’ve started to gently sway with the music again, this time taking the correct Tyler with you. Your hands clasp behind his neck as his link around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Sorry, darlin’. It was rougher than we anticipated,” he says, and though you expected to be much more put out, you feel settled with that explanation. You’re just happy he’s with you now and not standing you up for a date with his unpredictable weather. “You look pretty,” he tells you as his palms slide down over the skirt that’s snuggly fitted around your hips. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

“Bought it today.”

“For me?”

“For me.” You roll your eyes. “But I might have guessed you’d like it.”

He hums, gaze raking appreciate up your body to your mouth. “I do,” he says, then he presses his lips to yours. However, remembering the scarlet hue coating your lips, you quickly pull back.

“Your whole mouth is going to be red if you keep kissing me.”

Tyler’s brow pinches. One hand’s fingers glide up your body and slip between the strands of your hair. “Good,” he says. “Then people will know we’re a matching set.”

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #glen powell #tyler owens fic #twisters

575 notes · View notes