I Keep Thinking About How Selina Kyle Visiting Bruce For The First Time After He Gets Custody Of Damian

Jason Todd x m!reader - Red Light

thinking .... mmmmm

smut below the cut

WORD COUNT : 1,983

Contains UNSAFE driving practices and some public play !! Read responsibly !!

You’d barely pulled up to the light before Jason’s arms tightened around your waist, and you felt the shift. Not just him scooting closer for warmth or balance—no, this was intentional. His chest pressed flush to your back, chin resting on your shoulder, and then there it was:

His hand, slipping under your jacket. Then under your shirt.

Cool fingers dragging along your stomach.

"Jay,” you mutter, adjusting your grip on the handlebars. “Don’t start.”

“M’not doing anything,” he says way too innocently, nuzzling against your neck. “Just keepin’ warm.”

But then the light stays red a second too long.

And his hand starts to wander.

You feel him undo the button on your jeans with a quick, practiced flick of his fingers. One second he’s warm and cozy, the next he’s in your pants, fingers brushing against your already half-hard cock like he knew what he was doing.

“Jay,” you warn again, more strained this time.

“What? Can’t help it,” he says, voice low and full of that smug, shit-eating grin you don’t even need to see to know is plastered across his face. “You look hot like this. All big and growly on your bike. Makes me wanna ruin your focus."

The light turns green.

You expect him to stop. To behave, at least until the next stop.

But instead? He tightens his legs around your waist and keeps going, fingers curling around your cock, slow and deliberate.

“Jason,” you grit, trying to breathe through the heat curling up your spine. “We’re in traffic.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just above your jacket collar, where your helmet doesn't cover. “So don’t crash, babe.”

The little shit just starts jerking you off while you’re driving, like it’s nothing. The way he tugs slow and firm, fingers teasing over the head—he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s delighting in your struggle to keep it together.

Every bump in the road makes you jolt in his grip, and you swear he’s grinding against your back on purpose.

“You're gonna kill us both,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

“Guess that means you better finish quick, huh?”

He knows he’s fucked.

You don’t say a word as you step off the bike, but Jason knows. He sees the way your jaw’s clenched, the way your hands flex at your sides.

He doesn’t even make it past the kitchen.

You grab him by the back of his jacket, slam him up against the counter hard enough to rattle the spice rack, and then twist him around to bend him right over the table.

“Thought you were funny, huh?” you growl against his ear, already undoing his jeans with practiced, angry fingers. “Touching me like that on the road. Could’ve wrecked us.”

“Mmm, but we didn’t,” he says with a smirk you can hear in his voice, even as his breath catches. “You always drive better with a little pressure, babe.”

You shove his jeans down far enough to expose that ridiculously perfect ass and palm it roughly, giving it a hard slap that makes him jolt, the table creaking under him.

“Oh, you’re so full of it,” you mutter. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this the whole damn ride. Just needed to poke the bear.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, he pushes his hips back into you, taunting, like he’s begging for it.

“Well?” Jason’s voice is thick now, low and fucked. “You gonna do something about it?”

You answer with your teeth.

Biting the back of his neck, pressing your hips flush to his bare ass, grinding against him slow and hard just to make him squirm. He gasps, hands scrambling for purchase against the table, because you haven’t even touched his cock yet, and he’s already leaking.

“Look at you,” you murmur, dragging your cock along his entrance, not even pushing in—just rubbing it there to drive him insane. “You wanted to ruin me, Jay. But now you’re the one begging.”

Jason’s voice is hoarse now. “Fuckin’ take me, already—”

And you do.

One smooth, deep thrust has him arching over the table, a ragged moan tearing from his throat as your hips snap into him. You don’t hold back. You don’t go easy. Not after what he pulled.

You ruin him.

Thrust after punishing thrust, hand in his hair to yank his head back, teeth at his throat, your other hand wrapped tight around his cock, stroking in time with every movement.

“So cocky,” you growl, biting down on his shoulder. “But you love getting fucked like this. Bent over, used. My pretty little backseat bitch.”

Jason loses it.

Moaning, gasping, body trembling as you work him harder, rougher, until his knees start to buckle.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m—” he chokes, and you stroke him faster, fucking into him so deep he screams into the crook of his arm, whole body convulsing as he explodes, spilling across the table in thick, hot spurts.

But you don’t stop.

Not until you’ve finished too, spilling deep inside him, groaning low against his sweat-slicked spine as you collapse forward, panting.

For a long second, all you can hear is the sound of your heavy breaths and Jason’s shaky whimpers.

Then, from where he’s still draped across the table, boneless and wrecked, Jason huffs a breathless little laugh.

“So... red light hand stuff’s still on the table, right?”

You spank his ass hard enough to make him yelp.

“You’re lucky I didn’t pull over and fuck you fucking side sadle.”

Jason’s grin is filthy.

“Next time… don’t hold back.”

Oh, you're the menace now.

Jason’s still draped over the table, breath hitching in his throat, legs shaky, whole body flushed and twitching from the intensity of it all. He’s sticky—soaked in his own release, glistening across the wood and his skin in creamy streaks. He hasn’t even recovered, still trying to catch his breath, when he hears your boots shuffle behind him.

“Stay still,” you murmur, voice thick, wrecked, but hungry. “Not done yet.”

Jason blinks, lifting his head just enough to look over his shoulder.

“The fuck else could you possibly—”

He chokes the rest off as your hands slide up his thighs, prying them apart again. His oversensitive cock twitches against his stomach, and he barely has time to react before your tongue licks a long, slow stripe across the mess he left behind.

Jason whines—no other word for it—his back arching, hips jerking from the overwhelming overstimulation as your mouth starts cleaning him up.

“Jesus—babe, you’re fucking filthy—”

"Mhmm..." You hum against his skin, not even pretending to argue. You are. Tongue dragging through the mess on his thighs, lips catching the pearly streaks dripping from his ass, his cock, the table—everywhere he and you spilled, you chase it, slow and deliberate, like it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Y’don’t have to—fuck—do that,” Jason mutters, but his voice cracks halfway through because your tongue flicks over the sensitive underside of his cock again, and he nearly crumples.

“But I want to,” you murmur, licking a drop off the curve of his hip, your hands holding him still when he starts to squirm. “You taste too good to waste.”

Jason lets out a shaky moan, knuckles white against the edge of the table.

“Fucking insatiable,” he gasps.

You just smirk, breath warm against the inside of his thigh as you suck the last of his release off his softening cock, slow and messy on purpose. You know it’s too much, you know it’s driving him mad—but you want to see him fall apart again, wrecked and trembling from just your tongue.

“That’s what you get,” you murmur between licks. “You start it in public, I finish it everywhere else.”

Jason groans, breathless and flushed, head dropping back onto the table as he shivers through another wave of overstimulation.

“You’re gonna kill me, y’know that?”

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before standing up, dragging your tongue over your lips.

“Not till I’m full, babe.”

Jason’s still face-down on the kitchen table, legs trembling, skin flushed, and leaking just a little down the inside of his thighs—but you?

You step out onto the balcony like you just conquered a war.

The night air is crisp, cooling the sweat clinging to your neck as you strike a match one-handed, the flame flickering golden against your still-blown pupils. You bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale slow, the ember flaring hot as you lean against the railing and look out over the city, still half-hard and satisfied.

Behind you, you can hear Jason groaning faintly—something about being broken, maybe ruined, and absolutely not able to walk. You smirk to yourself and take another drag.

“You alive in there?” you call lazily, exhaling smoke into the dark.

Jason’s voice is wrecked, hoarse as hell. “Barely. You got a goddamn problem, y’know that?”

You chuckle, tossing your head back to blow smoke toward the stars.

“You’re the one who got handsy in traffic, baby. I’m just returning the favor.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, followed by the creak of the table and a thump as he finally slides to the floor. You imagine him sitting there, legs spread, hair a mess, probably still dripping.

You take another slow drag.

“Want a hit?”

“Want a hospital,” he mutters.

You hear him stumble to the doorway, leaning against the frame in nothing but his half-buttoned shirt, eyes hazy but starved. Even now, after you’ve wrung him out completely, he’s staring at you like he might drop to his knees again if you crook your finger.

You hold the cigarette out to him.

He steps out barefoot, takes it between his lips, and leans in close—close enough to still taste himself on your mouth. When he exhales, it’s smoke and a soft laugh.

“So... when’s round two?”

You cock an eyebrow, smirk curling at the edge of your lips.

“Whenever you can stand without wobbling like a newborn deer, sweetheart.”

Jason grins—teeth sharp, eyes dangerous.

“Then I better hydrate.”

That cigarette burns down to the filter, and the quiet between you settles soft, warm. The kind that only comes after you’ve really let go of everything—clothes, pride, tension. It’s the hour of sticky skin and whispered nothings, where every touch feels closer to the bone.

You stub it out in the ashtray on the railing, then tug Jason in by the waistband of his boxers. He doesn’t resist, just melts into you like muscle memory—arms slinging around your waist, nose tucked against your collarbone. You walk him back inside like that, bare feet on cold floors, hearts thudding in sync.

By the time you crawl into bed, he’s already half-asleep on your chest, one leg slung over your thigh and his fingers loosely curled in the hem of your shirt. But before you let yourself fully drift—

“Y’know…” you murmur, brushing your hand lazily through his hair, “you really shouldn’t be grabbing my dick while I drive, baby.”

Jason lets out a tired, little heh, muffled against your skin.

“Worth it.”

You pinch his side. “Could’ve crashed. Killed us both.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Because I’m a goddamn professional,” you say, exasperated but fond. “Next time you get that twitchy, at least wait till I park.”

Jason nuzzles in tighter. You can feel the curve of his grin against your chest.

“You love it.”

You sigh, kiss the crown of his messy hair, and mumble—

“I do. Even if you’re a little stupid.”

He snorts, and you feel the way his whole body relaxes against yours, like that soft little confession smoothed out every last knot of tension in him.

You wrap both arms around him tighter.

He doesn't say anything for a minute, just breathes slow and deep. Then, so quiet you almost miss it—

“Love you too.”

You smile into his hair.

Sleep comes easy after that.

BOTTOM JASON SUPREMACY

Made a Corinthian chatbot for the laughs and he’s complaining about his dental insurance I-

Wrote a short Furiosa oneshot but idk how I feel about it yet. Should I just post it and see what happens?

“Bible Study”

Cw: mentions of abuse,puritan culture, secret relationship

You trembled as you sat at the table across from your father. He was calm, too calm. His collected demeanor was merely a mask to cover the rage he would inevitably let loose on you.

“I’ve heard things about you, y/n. Things I don’t want to be hearin’. You been disappearin’ a lot more and people are saying you’ve been running around with boys.”

You fight the urge to turn your eyes away from your father’s as you think about the last few months. You had been running around, though not with boys. You’d been spending every free moment you had with a man. A godly man, whom you trusted to protect you from the forces of the Devil while he used your body for sin.

“I haven’t been running around. I’ve been with Father Sunday, you can ask him. You know how I struggle to grasp my readings. He’s been kind enough to help me with the word.” You state, trying your best to sound as innocent as possible.

“Get up,” he snaps, causing you to jump in your seat, straightening your spine to attention as you stand.

“Where are we going,” you question, voice trembling as all the possible punishments your father could lay on you race through your mind.

“We’re going to have a word with Father Sunday, and if he doesn't corroborate your story you best hope we’re out of grits,” he growls, grabbing the back of your neck forcefully and guiding you towards the front door, jolting you harshly as you struggle to keep up.

He marches you across the field to the chapel beneath the tree and kicks the door open, pushing you down the aisle to where Eli kneels before the cross, his head bowed in prayer.

“Father Sunday,” your father calls, startling Eli from his task. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I have reason to believe my daughter’s gotten herself into a predicament.”

Eli stands and turns to face you, taking your hands in his and gently pulling you away from your fathers grasp. “Oh that’s quite alright. What ails you child,” he hums, bringing his palm up to rest on your forehead.

“Word around town is that she’s been running around with boys and getting up to ungodly things.”

“Oh, no no,” Eli murmurs, moving your body so his view of your father is unobstructed. “That’s simply not true. She’s been here with me, studying. I know how she struggles and how terribly she wishes to be close to God. She’s done nothing wrong, and I’ll make sure everybody knows that. I was worried when she didn’t make it this afternoon, was it at your discretion sir?”

“I kept her home to question her on the matter.”

“I see,” Eli hums, looking over at you, taking notice of the way your hand trembled in his. “Would you still like to study this evening instead? I’ve got plenty of lamp oil.”

You nod softly at his offer. “Yes sir, I’d appreciate it.”

Eli releases your hand and turns his attention to your father. “She’s in good hands, sir. I’ll see to it that she gets home safe.”

You watch as your father nods curtly, merley giving Eli a grunt as he turns on his heel and retreats through the heavy doors of the church.

As soon as the door slams behind him you fall into Eli, a sob wracking your body as his arms wrap around you. “Oh Eli, thank you. Thank you.”

Eli’s hands grip your shoulder as he pushes you away to look at your face. “What’s he done to you now?”

“Nothing. He didn’t do anything this time. If your story hadn’t agreed he’d have made me kneel in grits again.”

“Oh darling, my darling girl. I won’t allow it. I’ll make my next sermon about sparing the rod, he’s sure to listen,” he rambles, his hands roaming hurriedly as the pads of his fingers trace the contours of your face, wiping your tears away.

“Eli, that won’t do a thing.”

“You should marry me. If we got married I could take you away from him for good. He could never put his hands on you again. We wouldn't even have to share a bed if you don’t want to.”

“Please, Eli, I don’t want to think about that anymore.”

His arms relax, pulling you towards him and the weight of his head resting on yours comforts you. “Alright then. I understand. Let’s go into the study.”

“Of course Eli, let’s,” you hum, allowing him to lead you into his study and settle you into the chair across from him.

“So aside from your father, how have you been since I last saw you, darling,” he questions, reaching across his desk to take your hands into his once again.

“I’ve been well, just helping mother with the canning for winter when I’m not with you.”

“Do you like being here, with me?”

“Of course I do Eli, I wouldn’t come around if I didn’t. I- I do love you, you know.”

“I love you too, darling. I meant what I said. I would like to marry you.”

“We can’t now, my father’s already suspicious. Just give it a year, then we’ll be safe.”

Eli sighs, leaning to rest his head on his arm. “I wish he wasn’t so cruel to you. I’d kill him if I could.”

“Eli, don’t talk like that. It’s sinful.”

“All I care about is you. I just want you to be free.”

“And I will be in time.”

He sighs again and brings you hand to his lips, kissing it gently and looking up at you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he hums, making a warm blush creep across your cheeks. “I haven’t done right by you and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to take so many risks for me.”

“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”

“I haven’t forced your hand?”

“Never,” you reply, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m my own woman, I don’t need a preacher-man to guide me. I understand the Bible just as well as you, you know, I just wanted a reason to spend time with you.”

He laughs and brings his hand to cup your cheek. “Well, I’m glad your father thinks you’re as foolish as he is.”

realizing i have. two settings when it comes to leon

1. tie me to a tree menace levels of horny. need him so bad i could kms why isn’t he real

2. forty two page dissertation dissecting every line of dialogue he’s ever said and how each relates to the complex facets of his personality, the extent of his trauma, and expands upon his backstory. my screen is wet because i’m crying. he’s literally a real person

Right Enough for Me

CW: no outbreak, murder, domestic violence, descriptions of violence (Joel’s the good guy, I promise)

This fic is based off the song Wait in the Truck by HARDY and Lainey Wilson

Joel Miller liked to believe that he was a good man, that he tried his damndest to do the right thing, but as he sat in his truck parked by the bank of the Colorado looking down at the still-warm pistol in his trembling hands he’d wondered if he’d done wrong. In the eyes of the law he had, sure, but morally, truly, was it wrong?

He sighs as he climbs out of his truck and walks into the river until it lapped just below the tops of his work boots. It was eight a.m. on a Tuesday. There were no sunbathers, nobody playing in the water, nobody to see him wind his arm back and hurl the gun into the river. Hopefully the lifeblood of Texas would take his sins far east and spill them into the Gulf.

As Joel made his way to his jobsite he couldn’t seem to keep his mind from running. Part of him wanted to clam up and try to forget what he’d done, but another part wanted to clear his conscience. If he went to a confessional they weren’t allowed to go to the cops, but the penance they’d give wouldn’t absolve him. He could probably confide in Tommy, he was sure to understand, but what if he didn’t? Instead he just sighs and wipes the nervous sweat from his brow and goes to decide today's agenda. Despite it all, despite the horrible, horrible events of the morning, he was still the first one to work with ten fresh boxes of Carpenter’s nails and the crisp receipt to go with them. Maybe things would be okay.

One Month Earlier

A knock at the door raises Joel from the breakfast table, wordlessly ruffling Sarah’s hair as he passes on his way to the door. He swings the door wide and lets a dopey smile spread across his face when he sees you with your usual beer can sized rollers still in your hair. He takes notice of the split in your perfectly lined lips.

You weren’t prideful, but he knew you’d be humiliated if he mentioned it. He’d been there before, after all.

“Mornin’ Darlin’,” he greets, waving for you to come in. “We’ve still got plenty if you’re hungry,” he offers, gesturing to the dining room table where Sarah was strategically drizzling syrup onto a sausage link.

“Nah, I’m alright. Already ate with JP. I’ll take some coffee if you’ve got it though”

“Alright then.”

You give him a smile and join Sarah at the table while Joel fixes your coffee just how you liked it, sliding it in front of you before disappearing upstairs.

“Y/n,” Sarah questions, looking up from her plate.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“How’d you meet my dad again?”

“I grew up down the street, but we met ‘cause of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You was real little when I started watching you, ‘bout three I think. Your dad needed someone to watch you and I’ve been your babysitter ever since.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

She grins in response. “Seven years. That’s a long time. Why don’t you marry my dad, he really likes you, plus you’re basically my mom already.”

You cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to not spew coffee all over the naive girl in front of you.

“Honey, you know I can’t. I’m married to JP. He’s a good man.”

Her eyes narrow. “If he’s so great how come I’ve never met ‘em”

“He don’t like rugrats. You done eating?”

“Oh I see how it is, and yes. Can I go watch TV?”

“Go brush your teeth and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

You can’t help but smile as Sarah slides out of her seat and runs upstairs. It was almost seven and you knew she didn’t want to miss the newest episode of Inuyasha. You get up and scrape what's left of her plate into the trash and put it into the dishwasher, smiling to yourself when you hear Joel jogging down the steps in his heavy boots.

“Alright Darlin’, I’m outta here,” he calls, punctuated by the jingling of his keys as he pulls them from their designated hook. “You got her?”

“Always do Joel,” you respond, giving him a lazy grin as you head into the bathroom to finish your hair.

Sarah knocks on the door and you let her in, telling her she can watch TV as long as it isn’t too loud and she already has her backpack together. She thanks you and scampers off, leaving the door open behind her, which was probably for the better since your hairspray was starting to choke you.

After you get Sarah off to school you head to work for another exciting day of taking phone calls and sharpening pencils, then using said pencils to record notes of said phone calls and then do it all over again the next time the phone rang.

Dale had come in again, bug-eyed and skittish as usual, trying his damndest to chat you up despite your obvious disinterest, pressing about how things were with you and JP, if he’d want to have beers with him after work sometime, how your tomatoes were, and on and on. Finally you’d gotten him to get to what he was there for, which was getting his truck's registration update put on file, and you’d promptly shooed him out after everything was squared away.

You’d finally gotten off and picked Sarah up from school, cracking open one of Joel’s High Lifes and propping your bare feet up on the coffee table to watch General Hospital while Sarah worked on her homework. Time crawled on and Sarah finished up and went outside to play on her tire swing before coming in and laying on the floor beside you with her copy of Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret, that you had gotten her last month. You figured you'd stop and get her Starring: Sally J Freedman as Herself next. It was always your favorite.

Around five fifteen you had called JP and let him know that you were going to be late getting home since there was no sign of Joel and he still hadn’t called. He’d gotten upset, so you just told him you loved him real sweetly and hung up and started dinner for Sarah.

Finally Joel got home around six and thanked you for staying late.

When you’d gotten home JP was furious, backing you into a corner and shouting into your face, calling you every name under the sun for God knows how long before he got bored and went back to the couch, demanding dinner and a beer.

JP had been a decent man for so long, you dated throughout highschool, parted ways, reconnected and got married at twenty-four. Things had been falling apart the last couple months and it had you looking for an out, hell you had the divorce papers shoved in your trunk under the spare tire, you were just too scared to tell him what you wanted, scared he wouldn’t let you leave, on the sunny side of a black bag at least. He got in your face like that for some reason or another at least three nights a week, and he'd busted your lip the night before over dinner being late. You knew it was too late to fix whatever you two used to have.

Things cooled off after that for about a week, then he came home drunker than a skunk and when you’d gone to get the mail the next morning you’d noticed a giant dent in his back bumper and that the front of his truck was barely an inch from the side of the trailer. You’d quietly made breakfast and went and woke JP when it was ready. He’d staggered his way into the kitchen and flopped into one of the chairs at the table.

“JP did you back into something last night?”

“What does it matter, woman?”

“You ain’t supposed to drive like that, you could’a hurt somebody, you could’a gotten hurt.”

“Last I checked this was a free country.”

“Last I checked, it's illegal to drive drunk.”

“Its only two miles back from Wyld’s”

“You almost drove through the damn house, JP.”

He’d risen sharply from his chair and come around the table, following you as you’d backed away from him. “C’mere, don’t act all scared now,” he growled, catching you by the arm and spinning you to face him and landing a heavy slap across your cheek. His breath still reeked of booze, and the look in his eyes told you that he was still extremely drunk, and that was probably what was keeping him from winding back on you. He was almost never drunk when he’d hit you.

“Teach you to fucking get smart with me again, bitch.”

It had only gotten worse from there, angry red marks became black eyes and hand-shaped bruises around your elbow that you’d so masterfully covered with more makeup than a Rodeo Queen, blotting your eyes when they’d water, and wearing those big sunglasses of yours as much as possible.

Joel had invited you and JP to a cookout at his place later that week and you’d both gone. JP played nice with the Millers and their friends until Tommy jokingly referred to you as ‘Sara’s new mama’ and then he’d dragged you inside, growling accusations under his breath at you while you tried your damndest to tell him that Tommy was just poking fun because you’re always looking after her. You open your mouth to tell him he didn’t mean nothing by it, but before you can speak he’s grabbed you by a fistfull of Texas-sized curls and you don’t have time to put your hands out before your face collides with the cold tile of the kitchen counter.

JP turns you loose and you stagger back a couple of steps, resting against the fridge to steady yourself as your vision swims, tinnitus setting in louder than it's ever been, and you’re vaguely aware of the warm ooze crawling down your top lip.

Finally your vision steadies some and you see that JP is gone. You wipe your nose on the back of your hand and feel around for fractures while you look around slowly, trying to remember where you are when you see Joel standing at the foot of the stairs

“How long’s he been doin’ that to you,” Joel questions, taking your clean hand and leading you into the bathroom, easing you to sit on the lid of the toilet and closing the door.

“It keeps bleeding,” you murmur, complying when Joel puts a wad of toilet paper in your hand and brings it to your nose, gently urging you to look down.

“You need to go to the hospital,” he informs you, steadying your chin and inspecting your eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“He slammed your face into the counter.”

“You seen that?”

“I heard it. You still bleeding?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna go get you some ice, just try to stay awake.”

“‘M’kay.”

He returns with a rag full of ice and gently presses it to your forehead in a couple places before focusing on your nose.

“I love you Joel,” you slur, finally giving into your heavy eyelids.

“No. No, hey. Look at me.” He taps at your cheek, sighing with relief when your eyes weakly flutter open again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m calling nine-one-one,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

Your hand flies out and grasps his wrist as harshly as you can manage, making your head throb. “No, mhmh, can’t. He’ll kill me if he knows anyone knows.”

“Then we’ll just tell everyone you slipped and hit your face on this sink here, how’s that?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Listen I can keep him away from you, but you’re goin’ to the hospital and that’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

You don’t remember much of what happened after that, but JP never found out that Joel knew, and Joel was pissed when you’d left the hospital and had him take you back to that trailer instead of letting him take you down to your parents in San Antonio like he wanted to.

“Honey, please let me take you to your mama.”

“Joel…”

“He didn’t even bother to come get you.”

“I gotta be strategic about this. He’s crazy. He’s got boys in Galveston that make it snow all over the state with guns you can’t buy.”

“Fuck, Jesus, fuck. Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“I’ll think about it for you.”

Current Day

JP hadn’t put his hands on you in the week you’d been out of the hospital, which was likely because the bill you’d been sent home with was more than hefty. Life was so close to back to normal, sending him off to work and looking after Sarah, who believed the sink story that Joel had made up for you.

Joel.

You’d finally said it that day, what you’d been feeling all those years but too scared to say, words that could have saved you all this trouble if you’d just said them sooner, sitting there in his bathroom thinking every word out of your mouth would be your last, you’d told him. You hoped he felt the same, but maybe he just thought it was delirium.

You’d decided to go home for lunch today since you’d forgotten to pack one and your deli meat was about to expire. When you pull into your driveway you’re surprised to see JP’s truck sitting there in the driveway. A dread bubbles up in your belly, but you steel yourself and climb the stairs to your door.

It’s unlocked. Weird.

You go inside and go straight to the fridge, pulling the meat, cheese and mayonnaise out, spinning around and closing it with your hip. As you look up your hands jerk, leaving everything you were holding to the mercy of gravity as you let out a scream. Your right hand reaches out, finding the wall to steady yourself, tapping around, seeking the phone before finding it and pulling it from the hook and calling the cops.

You explain the situation to the operator as best you can, periodically looking over your shoulder to make sure that you’re not just seeing things, but every time you look, JP’s still laying in the bedroom floor, his eyes wide and glassed over, staring directly at you, blood seeping into the creme colored carpet and flowing with the bow of the floor onto the dark linoleum of the hallway.

Finally the cops show up and start their investigation while one officer pulls you outside for questioning. After the investigators have all they need from the body, the coroner shows up and carts JP off.

They told you you couldn’t be there while they continued so you went back to work. You told your boss why you were late getting back and he told you to take the rest of the day, but you couldn’t go home, so you went to Joel’s.

You spend the rest of the time before you have to go get Sarah thinking about a lot of things. Finally your mind settles and you realize that no matter what, he can’t hurt you again and that’s good enough for you.

When Joel gets home you already have dinner made and Sarah’s finishing up setting the table. You can tell by the look of him that there’s some weight on his shoulders, but you can’t place why. You’d surely know before the end of the day. Joel was never one to keep things from you.

He thanks you and asks if you’re staying. You nod and take a seat, gesturing for him and Sarah to fix their plates first. After your own plate is settled, you reach out your hands.

“I think we should pray.”

Joel gives you a funny look but still takes your hand and bows his head. You can feel him knock his foot into Sarah’s and she takes your hand too.

You pray silently and signal your finish with an audible “Amen,” which the Miller’s echo.

“What’s got you feelin’ Grace again, Darlin’,” Joel questions, raising another forkful of meatloaf to his mouth as he speaks.

“Mysterious favors, I reckon.”

He shrugs and tries to give you a smile despite his concerned expression.

“Fair enough.”

After dinner is put away and Sarah’s been tucked in by the both of you, it’s just you and Joel downstairs, sitting at the dining room table in awkward silence, looking up at each other when you can’t stand the silence anymore.

“Joel,” you question, meeting his eyes with your own. They’re darker than usual and the lines around his eyes seem much deeper than they did the day before.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“JP’s dead. I went home for lunch and…found him.”

“I’m sorry that you saw that. That’s God-awful.”

Something you’ve never felt bubbles up inside you, heavy, sore and unknown, not fear, not anger, but something dangerously toeing the line between them and something positive. There was nothing God-awful about finding someone who had died naturally, sad maybe, but not horrible. God-awful was ruined carpet and a gray splatter across the side of the dresser. Joel knew what you had seen.

It was always Joel, no matter what problem you had, he would take care of it.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

You drop your voice to a whisper, scared that someone will hear, despite being in his home, terrified that he’d lose it all over you. “Did you do it?”

He drops his gaze from yours. “Did I do the right thing?”

“It’d been me if you didn’t.”

“That’s right enough for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as they finally meet his gaze again. “I’ll protect you too.”

His eyes fall shut and he sighs, dropping his shoulders.

“No matter what I know you got Sarah.”

“I won’t have to. What’d you do with it? Was it yours?”

“It’s on its way to the Gulf, and no, dug it up on a site last year. Never did know why I kept it. Reckon I’m glad I did though.”

You take his rough hand in yours and squeeze, giving him a soft smile as you get up from the table. He follows without hesitation.

“Joel, I gotta get going.”

“You ain’t scared of me, are you,” he questions, his expression pained, his eyes silently pleading with you.

“I’d never be scared of you, no matter what you do. That day in the bathroom, that wasn’t the concussion talking. I meant what I said.”

Joel’s breath catches and his hand tightens around yours, lifting your arm even with your shoulder. Your fingers stiffen instinctively, and then relax as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and then lets go.

You start making your way to the door and like always, he follows, opening the door for you and leaning on it. His face lacks its usual crooked smile, it’s somber as you step out onto the porch and turn to face him.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“Will you pray for me?”

“I’d do anything you asked me to.”

“Be safe gettin’ home, okay?”

“Always do” you call, making your way down the walkway to your car, noticing how Joel watches from the door as you duck in, only closing the door when you start backing out of the driveway.

Plaything

Cw: kinda dubcon, non-consensual blood drinking, non-explicit sex, dom vampire lady, not really x reader but not really an oc either?, she’s just a vessel for the freak shit, it’s all about the blood baybee

Leon watched her from across the bar, absolutely captivated by her. Everything about her was beautiful, the black hair that fell in tight ringlets down her back, her porcelain skin completely unmarked by stress or age. Everything about her was perfect.

He averted his gaze for just a moment and when he looked back up another man had taken the empty space at her side, a space he longed to be in, but knew he could never fill.

He couldn’t hear the words they exchanged, but he did notice the way she confidently lifted the man’s drink from his hand and finished it without flinching. The man ordered another round for the two of them and she accepted the drink from the bartender, waving her companion away as quickly as he’d joined her.

As the man retreats from her, Leon thinks he wants to take the man’s place, but the thoughts don’t seem to be his own, despite thinking about joining her before.

‘Come to me,’ the voice in his head whispers, and who is he to fight it?

He crosses the room and slides onto the stool beside her, making her turn to him and give him a smile.

Leon quickly realizes that there is something very very wrong with this woman. Everything about her is too much.

Her smile is too wide, her teeth too sharp, her painted lips are a feral shade of red, her scent is too intoxicating, her skin too perfect even up close, and her piercing gray eyes, they seem to capture his own and as badly as he wants to look away, he can’t.

“It’s nice of you to finally come over,” she purrs, her eyes softening ever so slightly, leaning back against her chair. “I thought you were just going to stare at me until one of us died,” she adds, laughing ever so slightly. “You’d be waiting an awful long time.”

Leon laughs along nervously, gesturing to the bartender. “Would you like a drink? On me.”

“Oh, no thank you. I just want to chat with you. I’ll admit, you’ve been driving me crazy all evening.”

He’s taken aback at her statement. She found him attractive? Her? Everything about the situation screamed at him to turn tail and run, but he was just so intrigued. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Leon took notice of the way her eyes lingered on his lips, her own parted so slightly, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing at all, he certainly wasn’t.

“What’s got you so nervous, huh, sweetheart? I’m not gonna rip you apart,” she teases, lifting his hand and pressing her lips to the back of it, leaving a faint lipstick print. “Unless you want me to.”

Leon laughs nervously, completely unsure as to how to react to this woman at all.

“So, uh, what about me interests you,” he questions, tentatively taking her hand in his own.

“You seem like the type of boy I’d like to play with.”

The ends of Leon’s ears turn pink and he ducks his head away. She reaches out and grabs his chin, making him face her.

“Why so shy, darling,” she questions, staring into his eyes.

“I love you,” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately.

“Who doesn’t,” she laughs, stroking the back of her hand against his cheek as she releases him.

Leon stares at her, awestruck, for a moment before coming to his senses again, his blue eyes returning their focusing on her face. Had he really just said that? No way, he had to be losing it.

“We should get out of here, I’m getting bored of this place, you know,” she sighs, sounding horribly unamused.

“Ye-yeah, where do you want to go? We can go anywhere you want.” He’s aware of how pathetic he sounds, but he just can’t help it, he felt like he’d been stripped of his own will and hers had replaced it, like she’d ripped out his frontal cortex and replaced it with her very existence.

What was that one freak’s name? He shook his head. It didn’t matter, not now, not really.

“Take me back to your place, baby, she purrs, leaning down into his ear, nipping at his earlobe. “I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good. My place.”

She holds her hand out and he takes it as he stands, keeping her steady as she slides off the barstool. She towered over him in her heels, and the sound they made as she walked echoed in his head, ricocheting off the inside of his skull and worming their way into whatever part of his brain was connected to his dick.

As soon as he unlocked the door of his apartment she was all over him, touching, squeezing, kissing him so quickly it made his head spin.

“You sure you’re not too drunk. I can drop you home if you are.”

“I don’t get drunk baby,” she replies, pulling him against her as she devours his lips.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

She grips his chin harshly, crimson talons digging into his jaw and he yelps, clawing at her wrist to no avail, and for the first time, he notices how cold her flesh is. “You’ll regard me with more respect if you want me to stay, understand?”

“Y-yes, Yes, Ma’am?”

“Good boy,” she praises, releasing Leon’s face and tutting as she rubs at the crescent shaped marks on his cute little face. “Please behave yourself. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Leon never thought something could chill his blood and turn him on at the same time, but here he was in front of the most terrifying, tempting woman he’d ever seen.

“So, where’s that bed of yours, hm?”

“Oh, that’s right, it’s this way,” he hums, taking her hand and leading her down the hall into the only bedroom in the apartment.

He closes the door behind the two of them and kicks off his shoes, watching as she makes herself at home, perching at the foot of his bed.

“Take your clothes off,” she commands, watching as he obeys without question.

She takes a moment, cocking her head as she takes him in, and then holds her foot out towards him, pointing her toe in his direction. Leon doesn't even need to be told what to do, making his way over and kneeling before her, carefully easing the heel off. He wasn’t exactly sure what the brand was, but he did know that the ones with the red on the bottom were the expensive ones. He then takes the other one from her waiting foot and carefully sits them down at the end of the bed.

Leon’s unsure of how to continue, but he wants so badly to please her, to keep her from just walking out, so he presses an unsure kiss to her ankle, earning him a sharp grin, urging him on. He kisses his way up to her thigh and then peers up at her, half expectant, half pleading.

“Well go ahead. I’ll let you eat me first if that’s what you’d like.”

His hands trail up her legs with uncertainty, sliding under her dress and pushing it up around her hips, fingers hooking into her pantyhose and carefully pulling them down. His face is between her thighs almost before he realizes it, and her hand comes down, gripping the back of his head, digging those claws into his scalp. A whine of protest falls from his lips, but she just doubles down, digging her nails in deeper.

The only response he gets from her the entire time is the spread of her legs and the occasional bit of praise, but aside from that she peers down at him with an almost unamused glare. Despite her indifference Leon keeps eating her out, his hips grinding against nothing as enjoys being between the legs of a woman this beautiful.

“That’s enough,” She growls, pulling him away by the scalp and practically tossing him to the side. Leon sits back on his heels and looks up at her, watching intently as she slips out of her dress and folds it, walking across his room and laying it on his dresser.

Some people looked better in clothes, and some looked better in the nude. It appeared that she’d missed the memo and decided she’d be perfect in any state of dress. Muscles ripple under her flesh like those of a leopard. Her skin was porcelain all over, no tan lines, no scars or stretch marks, just smooth, supple perfection.

“You look so pretty like this, such a shame.”

Before Leon can even question what that means she’s grabbed him and thrown him onto the bed. She’s on him in an instant, kissing and biting him all over as she sinks herself down onto his painfully hard dick. He lets out a pathetic sound and she wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, her other hand pinning his wrists above his head while she rides him. Leon’s eyes widen in fear and his feet scramble for traction against the sheets. She just loosens her grip ever so slightly and shushes him, and it’s more than enough to make him relax under her touch.

Leon cums embarrassingly quick, but she doesn't seem to care, continuing to ride him until he’s a sweaty whimpering mess under her. He does his best to plead with her for a break, for just a moment, but his body’s on fire and his mind is quickly becoming a foggy mess. Before long all he can do is whimper and buck his hips up to meet hers, his legs trembling, chest heaving, he can’t even see her anymore, he can’t see anything.

The hand around his neck disappears and he stretches his fingers out to brush against her wrist, needing something, anything to ground him, to keep his mind and his body connected. A sharp pain takes the place of her chilled hand and he lets out a weak yelp, jerking away. Her cold hand grabs the side of his face, forcing him to stay still. He just gives in to the sensation, and the pain fades into a pleasurable throb, and then there’s nothing.

Leon wakes up the next morning tangled in his sheets with a pounding headache and a dull ache at the side of his neck and on his left wrist. When he sits up his vision swims and he has to fist the sheets to keep himself upright. A note rests on the nightstand. He picks it up and stares at it. ‘Hope you let me play with you again,’ it reads in what appears to be brown marker. He flips it to find a picture of himself asleep, or unconscious, based on how he was feeling at the moment. A groan falls from his lips and he falls backwards, letting himself go back to sleep.

When he wakes again it's well past noon. He crawls from his bed and heads to the bathroom. He’s so battered he can barely recognize himself. His vision is still fuzzy, but he can still see the crescent nail marks and hickies scattered across the expanse of his paler-than-normal flesh, some of them are recognizably human bites, the mark of each tooth deep and visible. They’re worst at his neck and wrist, both places are a deep blue and dried blood is smeared around the bites.

How the fuck was he going to hide any of this? He was never going to let himself think with his dick ever again, but part of him was hoping he’d run into that strange woman again.

Come On, Princess

Cw: threeway, cunnalingus

You stared, dumbfounded at the phone in your hand. There’s nothing strange about an old friend calling you up to chat. Nothing at all. Hell the conversation you just had was downright boring even until he asked you to go out with him and his boyfriend. The words themselves weren’t particularly interesting, but his tone was different when he said it. You had known Keigo since you were teenagers, and if you knew anything about him it was that he was so unpredictable he was almost predictable. You didn’t question his motives, knowing he would never force your hand, you had just agreed to meet them at the restaurant for a nice dinner and half-jokingly prayed your rabies vaccine was up to date. He’s a biter.

You hadn’t actually met Keigo’s boyfriend yet, hell maybe that all he wanted was for you to meet him. God, knowing what type of guys Keigo was into, he was either a total hardass or a stoner. You prayed for your sake it was the latter. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself into the restaurant. You quickly spot Keigo sitting in a corner booth by himself and head over to him. “We get stood up,” you question, sliding into the booth and wrapping your arms around him. He squeezes you back. “Nah, he called me a minute ago. Said traffic was bad.” “That’s because you picked a downtown restaurant at rush hour.” “hahahah shut the hell up,” he deadpans, letting go of you. “But seriously though, what have you been up too, haven't seen you in what?” “six months,” you reply. “I’ve just been working though. Feels like all I do is work and sleep.” He reclines himself in the booth, resting his hands behind his head. “So I take it no stress relief?” He wriggles his eyebrows at you. “Keigo if you want to fuck me just say so.”

Somebody clears their throat and slides into the booth next to Keigo, resting against his side. Keigo wraps his arm around the other man's waist and pulls him closer “Mh, look what the cat drug in. Y/n, this is my boyfriend Dabi, Dabi, this is my best friend y/n.” “Glad to finally meet you, he never shuts up about you,” he laughs, his voice is deeper than you expected, probably attributed to whatever happened that left him as scarred as he is. “He never shuts up about you either,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face. You’re glad he’s laid back. And handsome. And strangely familiar. They contrasted each other, making them a pretty couple. Was it weird to be friends with the guy you lost it to in the back of a van in high school but never dated? No, that wasn’t too weird. Was it weird to think about banging him and his boyfriend? You wouldn’t mind it if that teal eyed fucker wrapped his hands around your throat. Oh God what if his quirk is mind reading. Oh that’s definitely weird. Oh no. “Hey, Earth to y/n,” Keigo calls, snapping in front of your face, “food’s here hon, where’d you go?” “Sorry I zoned,” you reply, shaking your head and picking up some chopsticks to grab a dumpling with.

“Dinner was good Dabi, thanks for paying,” you hum, pecking on the cheek and slipping past Keigo into his apartment, beelining straight for the kitchen. “Did they just-” “yeah they’re like that, get used to it lmao.” “Did really just say- ya know what nevermind. Do you still want to ask them about the uhhhh-” “Yeah, I’ll do it, It’ll be weird if you do it.” Kiego makes his way into the kitchen and finds you perched on his counter drinking a beer. He rubs the back of his neck. “Hey Dabs and I were wondering if uhhh, you’d-” “Yes.” “But you don’t even know what I was going to ask,” he whines, bending over and resting his head on your thigh. “Keigo, do you think I’m stupid? I’ve known what you wanted since you called to ask me to go out with you two,” you counter, rubbing your fingers through his hair. “Am I really that predictable?” “Only to me sweets,” you murmur, urging him off of you and hopping off the counter. Grabbing his hand, you lead him back into the living room, where Dabi’s draped himself over the couch, somewhat resembling the Death of Marat. You laugh at the thought. His head snaps towards you. “What’s so funny, doll? You’re holding hands like teenyboppers, I take it they said yes?”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck both of you, it’s cool,” you shrug, letting go of Keigo’s hand and rolling yourself over the back of the couch onto him. “You smell good,” you comment, burying your face into his chest. God, you really hoped your quirk didn’t act up tonight. “Bed, now,” Dabi growls, lazily pointing down the hall, wrapping his other arm around your waist, pulling you close before slipping out from under you. “You just gonna leave me here to get myself off while you two have a nice evening?” “Hell no I’m not leaving a fine piece of ass like you in the living room,” he laughs, throwing you over his shoulder, drawing a shriek from you. “Don’t fucking kill my best friend,” Kiego shouts from down the hall. “Yeah yeah, we are gonna kill you though,” he calls as he kicks the door open, throwing you on the bed next to Kiego. His face pops into your vision as you open your eyes. “Fancy meeting you here, looks like we’re both about to get fucked like sluts.” You chuckle. “Now that’s where you’re wrong princess,” you purr, pushing him back onto the bed. “Strip. Now.” He complies with no hesitation, sitting on his knees before you in just his boxers. A hand snakes around your waist as Dabi rests his head on your shoulder. “Hm, don’t think you’re getting off that easy, hand ‘em over,” Dabi murmurs, reaching his free hand towards Kiego. He slowly moves to put his boxers in Dabi’s hand before changing direction and throwing them in your face.

“You little shit,” you growl, pouncing on him, pushing him harshly into the mattress. “Give me one reason I shouldn't knock you around and edge you until you’re crying like a bitch, hm?” He looks up at you with big puppy dog eyes. “Because you love me? So much?” You slap him. “Well, now that was just rude,” he taunts, giving you a shit-eating grin. You have half the mind to slap him again before Dabi grabs your hair and pulls you back into him. “Strip for me princess, then we’ll have some fun with him, yeah?” You promptly start peeling your clothes from your body and tossing them aside. “And you, you little shit, are gonna eat them until they cum all over your pretty little face, make up for being a brat. “But I like eating pussy?” “Slap him again, then ride his face.”

You do as you’re told, slapping Kiego firmly before settling your knees on either side of his head and lowering yourself down to his hungry mouth. Keigo grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to him and delves his tongue into your dripping cunt. He’d always been skilled with his mouth, be it talking himself out of sticky situations, or in this case, into one. You gripped at the headboard, trying to steady yourself as he slipped two fingers into you, curling them against your soft insides. He moans into you suddenly, making your thighs clench and you look behind you, finding Dabi stroking Keigo’s cock at a painstakingly slow pace. Another curl of his fingers draws your attention back to the pleasure between your thighs. Another moan from him sends shockwaves through you, making you squeeze your thighs together yet again and come undone around his fingers. You roll off of him, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Dabi turns his attention to you now, leaving Keigo with a throbbing erection. “If you touch yourself, you’re not cumming, you hear me,” he growls over his shoulder. “Yes,” Keigo breathes, resting his hands on his stomach. “Yes what?” “Yes master” “Good boy,” he nudges your legs apart. “Can I have a little taste too, sweets?” You open your legs further for him. He rests himself on his elbows between your thighs and wraps his arms around them. “You smell so good,” he purrs, rubbing his cheek against the inside of your thigh before throwing himself into you, much more skilled than even Keigo. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair and tug, small whimpers falling from your lips. He makes you cum until your legs are shaking, then moves away, leaving harsh bites along your thighs before soothing them with his warm tongue.

Dabi gets up and rids himself of his clothes and slips on a condom before sitting on the foot of the bed, gesturing for you to come to him. You sit before him, watching him as he strokes his cock, urging himself to get harder still. “How in the hell did he end up with someone like me with someone as beautiful as you sitting right in front of him,” he purrs, motioning for you to come to him. “Because I prefer men,” Keigo pipes from his designated spot on the bed. “Hm, they could probably give you as good a dicking as I can with the right resources,” he hums, turning you around and gently sinking you down onto his cock. “But can they manhandle me like you,” he quips, giving the two of you a devilish grin. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He takes his time with you, making you feel him hit every spot inside you at a painfully slow pace. “Hgn, faster, please, I need it,” you whine, reaching back to pull at his hair. He grabs your throat and pulls your back into his chest, fucking you harder than before. Strings of curses fall from your lips when he uses his other hand to play with your clit, making your walls flutter around him. “Mh, you feel so good, Kiego, tell them how pretty they look,” he growls, squeezing your throat more firmly and thrusting into you harder than before. “You’re so pretty Y/n, you’re taking him so well, god look at you, I wanna touch myself so bad,” he whines, reaching for his dick before catching himself and digging his nails into his thighs. “You got me so close sweetheart, you wanna cum with me?” You nod, pushing your head back into him as your back arches, turning your head to catch his lips with your own. They’re softer than you expect, tasting faintly of you and the cigarette he smoked on the walk back to Keigo’s apartment. You moan as he pulls away, leaving sloppy kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting before smoothing the sting with his warm tongue, leaving a trail of warm saliva in his wake. “What’s my name baby?” He trusts you with his life, you can feel it, you force your quirk into the back of your mind, not wanting to know more than you’ve been told. “Dabi,” you moan, pushing back onto him, chasing your inevitable high. “Who do you belong to?” “Ah, you, I belong to you.” “Then cum with me.” You do, and every emotion he’s ever felt crashes onto you at once, clouding your mind, your skin is too hot suddenly, making you scream before the feeling ebbs into a warm bliss. Your body falls limp against him as you struggle to steady your breathing as he strokes your hair and shushes you. When you finally catch yourself he lays you next to Keigo.

“ Why don’t you treat me like that after you fuck me?” “Because you’re a brat,” Dabi responds nonchalantly, tossing the used condom in the nearby trash bin. “Now I got you a present, and since you were so good and didn’t act like a little slut, you can have it. Keigo’s mood is magically renewed by the promise of some sort of reward, bringing him to to sit on his knees and look expectantly at his boyfriend, who tosses a bag at you. “I thought you said it was for me,” he whines, pouting at the dark haired man. “It is, pet, I promise.” You pull the contents from the bag, revealing a strap-on. “OH! It is for me,” Keigo cheers, clapping excitedly. Have you picked sides yet?” “How about you pick, Princess,” Dabi coos, stroking his face with the pad of his thumb, tracing his cheekbones, then his jaw, before running it along his plush lips and pushing it into his mouth. “Don’t bite princess, or I’ll change my mind.” “Mhka eh wehnt,” Keigo responds. Dabi pulls his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop. “What was that princess?” “Okay, I won’t, I decided I want you in my mouth, is that okay?” “That’s just fine baby, let’s go ahead and get ready, hm?” You get up and start fastening the strap to your body as Keigo allows Dabi to prep him for you. “You got any lube,” you question, poking around in the nightstand, finding nothing but a phone charger, a condom, ibuprofen and? A half eaten bag of sunflower seeds? Why are you even surprised? “Uhhh, no, spit should work thou-ah,” Keigo respods. With the sounds coming out of him you can only assume Dabi is getting to work on his prostate.

“He’s ready for you whenever you are,” Dabi shrugs, continuing his ministrations on the blond whining in his lap. You get on the bed and kneel behind Keigo. “Ass up, Princess,” you hum, grabbing his hip and pulling him towards you while you spit in your hand to lube up the strap. “You ready for me,” you question, teasing his entrance with the tip of the dildo. “Yes, god, yes please, fuck me, please.” “Hm, well, since you asked so nicely,” you reply, gently sinking into him until your hips were flush with his ass to let him adjust. You look up and see that Dabi’s already taken over fucking his mouth, so you start thrusting with a slow, even pace so as not to hurt him unintentionally. Pain could be fun, blood usually wasn’t. Keigo begins pushing his ass back into you, silently urging you to speed up. You pick up your pace, fucking into him as quickly as he could take it, grabbing at his hips for leverage, while Dabi pulled at his hair shoving his cock deeped down his throat and grunting. Keigo cums untouched and without warning when you wrap your hand around his throat and give it a light squeeze, feeling the bulge of Dabi’s cock move with each of his thrusts. Dabi follows suit, praising Keigo as he pulls away for taking both of you so well. Keigo collapses on the bed with a huff while you slip the strap off your body and toss it to the side. Dabi pulls the soiled sheet from the bed and balls it up, tossing it into the corner before laying next to his boyfriend and pulling him into his chest. You search hastily for your clothes, unable to find where your underwear went. “What’re you doing, sweets?” “I can’t find my-” “Whatever it is, we can look in the morning hm? Spend the night with us? It's the least we can do.”

Kinktober Day 12: Somnophilia

With Polnareff

Cw: somnophilia (obvs), overstimulation, creampie, oral (f recieving), fingering (f recieving)

The last month and a half had been absolutely grueling for Polnareff. Sure, he’d been away from time to time, but never this long, and his trips were never that dangerous. It was safe to say that Polnareff was more than happy to finally be home, to finally be able to let his guard down and see his lady again.

He had returned home around midday, surprising you as you put away groceries, quietly coming in and helping you finish before saying anything. You had screamed in fear, and then excitement as you realized the intruder was your Jean.

“Jean,” you called, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. He’d backed you against the refrigerator and kissed you until you couldn't see straight before pulling away and greeting you. You had spent the rest of the day catching up with Jean-Pierre and fussing over him, treating the remaining scrapes and bruises that littered his body. You had also cooked his favorite meal for him, despite his protests that you don’t have to lift another finger for him.

The two of you had gone to bed, both thoroughly exhausted by today’s excitement , cuddled up against each other, sleeping in what Jean called ‘French style”, though most just called it sleeping nude. He wasn’t particularly wrong though, Southern France was known for its nude beaches. You fell asleep thinking about how the two of you would have to go on vacation to Nice again now that he was home safe.

Polnareff had woken up early the next morning, sighing contentedly knowing that he had nothing to worry about today except what to wear and maybe what drink he would have with dinner. The rising sun was a rich orange color as it began creeping through the blinds, allowing Polnareff to take you in, tracing his fingers down your side, admiring the slopes of your body, running his large hands along the curve of your ass and down your thigh, eliciting a soft sound out of you. Suddenly he felt as if he had neglected you the night before. A beautiful woman, his beautiful woman had waiters on him all day and he hadn;t even had the decency to eat her out. Where were his manners?

The two of you were very comfortable and sexually liberal when it came to each other. and the list of things you had agreed against was quite short, nothing that would ruin the sheets, mostly . He remembered all the time he had woken up to you giving him sleepy morning head, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, whimpering softly as you bobbed your head, making strands of your messy hair fall in your face. He could always return the favor.

He thought about how much he had missed you as he let his hand fall lazily between your thighs, nudging them apart just enough for him to slide his fingers right where he wanted them. His pointer and ring fingers traced along your labia, while his middle finger dipped between your folds, gathering some of your arousal and returning to slide along your clit, drawing another whine from your lips. When he was finally satisfied with how wet you had gotten under his touch he moved from his place behind you and eased himself between your legs, kissing up and down your thighs before, burying his face where he wanted to be most.

Polnareff was always content to eat pussy, but this was different. It felt like it had been forever since he had made love to you, and he had spent his entire trip terrified he wouldn’t make it home. But he had, and now he was here, listening to the soft sounds of pleasure you were making above him, and the way your thighs squeezed his head and your hands pawed weakly at the sheets had him throbbing and unconsciously pushing his hips into the mattress as he eases two fingers into you. God, you were making such a mess on his face, but he didn’t care, he didn’t want it any other way.

“Jean,” you whine, your hands finally finding his hair and tugging at it gently. He can’t tell if you’re still asleep or not, but he doesn’t care because it's obvious that he’s making you feel good. Finally he decides he can’t take it anymore and and carefully crawls up the bed, resting his weight on the one hand whole the other rubs up and down your side as he dips his head down to kiss your neck, leaving a sloppy combination of your arousal and his saliva as he does. The hand not supporting him moves between your bodies and finds his sensitive erection and lines it up with your entrance, easing into you slowly and groaning when he bottoms out inside you.

He sits up and rests his hands on your waist, his fingers wrapping around your hips and his thumbs rubbing along your belly as he slowly rolls his hips against yours, feeling how wet you are and how well you take him. It’s enough to drive a man to madness.

“Fuck,” He breathes, fighting the urge to just pound into you, but this was about you after all.

“I missed this so much, Jean,” you whisper, drawing his attention away from how horny he is.

“Me too. How long have you been awake, mon chou?”

“Long enough, now come on,” you tease, bumping your hips against his, making him drop his forehead to yours and groan. “Do you want me on top?”

“No, this is about you,” he hums, pulling out and teasing his tip against your clit making your body jerk at the sensation.

“I see. From behind then,” you question, rolling your hips away from him and sliding your leg up to give him a better view of your ass.

“If that’s what makes my lady happy,” he replies, flipping you over and pushing back into you smoothly, one hand squeezing your hip, guiding you into his thrusts and the other pushing a palm into the small of your back, letting him have a deeper angle.

Before you know it you’re a shaking mess beneath Jean, pathetic noises falling from your lips every time his hand brushes against your skin, drool pooling on the mattress beside your head. Every move you make is jerky and uncalculated and your hips rut back against his involuntarily, further overstimulating yourself.

Jean pulls out of you slowly, groaning at the sight of cum oozing out of you, a mixture of his pleasure and yours. It was enough to make him want to go again, but he wasn’t sure he could do that without your brain melting out of your skull, so he just lays down beside you and pulls you back into his body. You whine at the contact, but quickly relax into his arms.

“How was that, mon Coeur,” he questions, brushing your hair from your face and wiping as much of the drool away as he could with his thumb.

“Mhh, Jean, it was s’good,” you slur, grabbing onto his forearms tightly, still trying to ground yourself despite Polnareff’s body pressed against your back. “Was too good.”

“Never heard that one before, I’ll be sure to stop when you tell me not to next time.”

“Jean,” you whine, tilting your head back to get a glimpse of your messy-headed lover.

“I’m kidding, I’m always a servant of love,” he laughs, pulling you closer.

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sleepy again.”

“Then we’ll just stay in bed.”

yeah uh... don't do this :)