Shared Warmth

Shared Warmth

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: Joel brings reader to an abandon home, that he wants to call home for the two of you. Something erotic in Joel ensues seeing you in just your underwear.

Tags: Smut (18+), Anal, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Dom!Joel, Fluff, Established Relationship, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Longest fic I've ever written so far. I don't know how I managed to conjure this! Could've split this into two parts, but decided this is better as one post to make this more cohesive. Enjoy!

AO3! | Reposts are much appreciated!

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"You'll see," is what you had received.

A response with very little context, a saying with many different meanings.

You didn't know what to make of this, sitting behind him on the horse with your arms around his waist, you genuinely felt left in the dark. It was very much like Joel to leave you questioning the tones under his voice. Most of the time it was just Joel being Joel, being the closed off man that he was. But the man was in a very good mood, deliberately mocking your naivety with a chuckle.

You sighed, "where are you taking me", saying it more toward yourself than to Joel. Being nearly a day away from Jackson, the question was a reasonable one. After all, what purpose was there to go beyond Jackson for? A gated community was a blessing in times like these, and yet strangely for you, something felt off. Living there has made you feel out of place, made your relationship with Ellie and Joel seemly less meaningful. Perhaps being in a safe haven, with so many people, wasn't truly what you sought.

Bizarre for sure that if you say it out loud, you knew people would call you crazy. You yourself felt you might’ve lost your mind. However, you can’t deny your feelings. Those days, weeks, and months traveling with Joel and Ellie across the country - those were some of the best times you've had even with the looming danger around every corner.

Regardless of what was going through your head, you weren't complaining, being back out into the world. The orange glow of the sun only served to emphasize this notion, piercing through the branches just above your head. It created this relaxing setting, one you can bask in for an unhealthy amount of hours.

"Do you have an idea of where we might be goin'," Joel asked.

Cruel. Just damn cruel, asking you a question you knew he'd leave open ended. Still, you played along.

"I’m assuming it’s pretty big,” after relaying that the man hums finally providing you with a clue, even if its unspecified. “…and that you aren’t playing some trick on me. So, a mall?”

“Try again.”

“A museum?”

“Nope…”

You let out a frustrated grunt, wishing the ladder were true. “Lake?”

Joel took longer to respond, “Mmm,” the man thought about it. “Not quite, it’s close by, but not important.”

You scoffed, placing your head on his shoulder, unsure of what he has disclosed so far is true or not, "Should I already know what it is?" Maybe that'll give you the upper hand.

"I doubt you'd guess this," Joel responses.

"So I'm guessing that a no then?"

The older man nods, turning his head to you before replying with a, 'Yeah'. There was no use in trying by that point. The constant persistence wasn't doing you both any favors. Joel probably had a reason to keep it secretive, so why spoil it? Knowing ahead would've made the trip less intriguing, if not boring. And on the bright side, what'll come will actually be a surprise.

Rather than playing into Joel's trickery you let it go, lifting your head back up, "Alright you won, I forfeit."

"Finally givin' up."

You reply, “I think I have too. I’ve ran out of ideas,” you lied just exhausted by the mind tricks, “Unless you want me to keep going?”

Joel partly wanted you to continue, to get back at you for all the times you fucked with him. He was starting to understand the fun in it now and why you did it to him. He settled for one more jab at you, “Will you get it a right this time?”

"Shut it" you giggle, bumping the man's thighs with your legs. Your comment did do the trick, as Joel fell silent after your remark. You could tell the man was smiling though; his rising cheek gave it away. Some of you was certainly rubbing off onto him, to know the man was now more comfortable with you was flattering.

Joel then reaches down for your leg, placing his hand right over your kneecap, caressing it like it was precious. “Don’t worry now, sugar. We’ll be there shortly.”

His considerate touch, that softness in his voice. Those two components together were enough to send a warm feeling throughout your body. How easy Joel could just captivate you by his touch alone, you guessed that was just how love worked.

You nodded your head as if he could see you, humming to acknowledge his words. Again you laid your head against him, face now between the back of his bare neck and the collar of his blue shirt. Closing your eyes, you let yourself listen to the sounds of nature around you to pass the time.

---

Sometime later, you found yourself opening your eyes to the sound of Joel's voice. Your vision, well adjusted to the growing darkness of dusk, focused on the dirt path some feet away.

"We're here," Joel says, spiking your interest enough to get your full attention. You lean back from the man's frame, hands rubbing the bags under your eyes.

Taking a look at the dirt path, you gaze in both direction. One leading deeper into the forest and the other extended out into a clearing. You confusingly study the area, unable to spot anything of interest. No water, no structure, not even a tree with any unique properties. You couldn't help feeling a bit bewildered, some of that feeling escaping through your lips with a quick 'Umm'. Stealing a glance at Joel's side profile, you tried reading what little you could see of his face.

He nods, "Good. You're awake. It's just this way," he explains, spurring the horse to get them moving in the direction of the dirt path.

Huffing in relief you spoke, "Phew, not gonna lie you almost got me there," thinking Joel might've been toying with you still. He turns his head to you, claiming that he wasn't going to bring you out there for nothing. If the man had told you that some time ago, you would have a hard time believing him.

Trotting forward, the horse comes into close proximity of the tree lines. Just on the other side you could barely see something faint between the leaves; a building of sorts. By what you could see the distance made it difficult to tell with the addition of nature covering your view. The universe really made things difficult for you. For what what it was worth, you were sure Joel didn't want you to see it until you stepped out into the open field. Still, the suspense was killing you.

This wasn't going to last any longer as Joel turns the horse right into the clearing. The tree's now finally out of view, you were hit with the red beam from the sun, blinded by your curiosity and in exchange being blinded by the sun in return.

You squint some, grunting as your gaze trailed around the perimeter. There was lots of tall grass, a noticeable transition compared to the on's just behind them. It stretched far beyond what your eyes could already see. Of course your mind was then caught up by the building some distance away.

There was a house. Someone's house. A house, that looked to be in good conditions. Surprisingly the lone tree just beside it has yet to infect the home with any vines. It made you believe that someone had to have lived here not too long ago. That person was one lucky bastard to have that home to themselves, you thought, imagining how nice the interior had looked.

"Ain't that something", Joel spoke, pretending as if it was his first time being there.

You comment, "Looks lively." A good point compared to everything the two of you had seen on the way there.

But Joel corrected you, "It's empty actually, has been for awhile". You let out a quick 'Huh', taking in his words, further scanning the house. The sidings are a tinted white, slightly scrapped on some parts of the wall. The dark colored roof, contrasting with the siding, made the home brighter than it already seemed. The house stood tall, two stories at most based off the windows, with the first floor being linked with the porch.

It was both funny and disheartening how attached you felt to this home already compared to the one you, Joel, and Ellie shared in Jackson. You kill to live in a home like this, not that you hated your existing home, just this one felt...right to you. Exterior alone, it reminded you of your old house pre-outbreak.

"Can we go in," you asked. A silly question, like you needed Joel's permission to enter the desolate property.

Joel responded sarcastically, dragging out the phrase "Nooo", with his gruffy voice. You knew he was only kidding and was now becoming intrigued by what was inside. Even so, the invasive feeling creeping up your stomach didn't go away yet. You looked around, taking in a full scope of the area. You trusted Joel of course, something that had improved since you first met. But your vigilant, alert mind hadn't shifted in the slightest; only improved thanks to being with Joel.

You turn your head around, looking behind you and at the edges of the tree lines to ensure that no one was following or coming. Like it even mattered, Joel had already assured your safety. You guessed it was better safe than sorry.

With your head now facing to the left, you gaze over to the far side of the field. So far that walking there would be ineffective. The field, a tad bit sloped, dragged on into the distance stretching too far for you to even consider. The sun made the entire sight something you'd see only from a painting or photograph. Sure enough, Joel wasn't lying from earlier when he confirmed there was a lake, just far off at the ends of the slope.

Joel steady the horse, grabbing the reins tightly to slow her down to a halt. "Alright," the man sighed. You let go of his waist as he began to move, his boots shaking the stirrups while he steps down from the horse. He then reaches his hand up to you. You gladly took it, allowing the man to pull you down.

You thanked him, a small smile stretching across the side of your face as you looked at the older man. He reciprocated your gesture with a smile of his own, one that made the wrinkles near his eyes stand out. He didn't have to mutter a word for you to know that he heeds your words.

The man turned his attention then to the horse, letting go of your hand in the process. He grabbed the reins and moved the horse over to tie it up to on of the porch's pillars. While he does so, you made your way up the few stairs, the wood creaking beneath your shoes.

Your hands trailed along the rails, rough and also smooth against your skin. Your eyes darting up and down the walls. Closely the walls looked more worn down, not too badly but could use some improvement.

You turned to look back at Joel who was slinging his bag over his shoulder. The man brushes his hand by your arm and passes by you. He walked up to the door before pushing it open. He moves his back agains the open frame, "Come".

Peaking inside for a moment, there was no way the house was empty like Joel had inferred. "Empty, huh. Doesn't look the way to me.", you look at the man with a snarky look on your face.

He looked unfazed by your humor, the man's face falling a bit flat. It reminded you of the times he'd looked at you after having to endure some of your playful banter. Those times were fun back when you traveled the country together with Ellie.

"Get in" he insisted, sounding annoyed but also seconds away from chuckling.

You don't push your luck and brush by the man still with that look on your face as you pass by him. To wipe that look off your face, Joel smacks your backside causing you to yelp; biting his lips in sync. It was a bastard move, but you weren't complaining. Looking back at him was either rewarding or a mistake cause he was making the face you familiarizes yourself with, best described as hunger. God. Choosing your next action carefully was smart cause anything that insight him to grab and kiss you, would lead to something more...erotic.

Not giving into temptation, you turn your attention to the living space ahead, balling your hand into a fist and squeezing it with the other hand. "This is...quite the place," you stated, stepping further into the home. You weren't kidding. The place had an aura very reminiscent of a cabin, the amount of woodwork around the living room alone gave you that impression. However, the house looked and felt homey all the same.

You walked up to a small craved out sculpture, shaped like a bull, placed above the small fire place. While inspecting it's form you brought up a question, "How'd you find all this?"

"Me and Tommy we're riding out", he started as the man trailed over to the wall to place his bag down, "And I wanted to do some more exploring but Tommy wanted to go back. So I let him and luck would have you..," the man finishes by raising his arms up some like he was revealing something grand, "...got my hands on this."

You nod, looking away from him to fiddle with the small bull, "Cool, it's like a comfy outpost. I like it". You then used the bull like a pointer, motioning it in the man's direction, "You weren't gonna hold out on us were you?"

Joel shook his head, making his way over to you. "Firstly this isn't a toy," he says, grabbing the small figure out of your hand. He places it back into its original spot before resuming, "And secondly, I was going to tell you, specifically just you about this place."

He was? You raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what significance a place like this would even have. It wasn't somewhere you'd visited with Joel before, nor was it a house that held any meaning to you prior to arriving. So what gives? "Just me", you muttered.

The man smirked some, finding it adorable how dumbfounded you appeared. He stepped closer to you, close enough to where you could feel the warm heat from his nostrils flaring against your face. “Yeah, just you”, he repeated, his voice now closer to a whisper. 

You could feel his hand grasping at yours as you kept your eyes locked with his. “I’m sorry, I feel I’m missing something here”. The man, obviously still listening, lifts your hand up to his own face, gently rubbing it against his cheek. His scruffy beard, pricked your palm as you cupped the man’s face. 

The man wondered if he should even answer. Your palm, tender against his rough skin nearly made him forget how to speak. Made him almost forget what you had even asked. He had held it longer than he should've, feeling slightly guilty for holding something like this off from you. He felt you inquired more than enough today. 

With your palm, slowly being squished between the man's hand and cheek he explains, "I got this for us. At Tommy's...I know things have been different between us since we got there. We, spend a lot of time outside of town, sometimes don't even spend time with each other much anymore. I thought it'd be nice to have our own space again, you know away from...everything. When I found this it just clicked for me. Felt like we could call this place home."

Your face was at ease, hearing him say what had been on your mind, spiked your attraction to the man further than you thought was possible. Every word, every sentence hit the mark for you. For a moment, you could swear he had to have read your mind at some-point. Either that or being with you had made it easy to determine what was bothering you. Regardless, having a place faraway for yourselves sounded too good to deny, especially when it was exactly what you wanted.

You couldn't quite put your thoughts into words, simply letting out a confused giggle, unsure of how to follow up on Joel's reveal.

Joel takes notice of this, captivated once more by your expression. He then breaks the silence, "You've asked a whole of questions. Now let me ask you this, how do you feel about living here with me, sunshine."

You nodded immediately, maybe a bit too quickly and possibly too eagerly. "I'd...love to," the words finally falling out of your mouth.

The man response, turning his head some to kiss your palm between an utter, "Good." His lips softly trailed down, like he was following the curved lines on your hand. Each kiss felt delicate, purposeful, each with some kind of meaning supposedly. That was just within Joel's transcended mind, he couldn't help himself, he got lost quickly whenever he'd feel your touch.

You leaned yourself forward, pulling your hand away from his mouth to wrap it around the back of his neck. Tugging him forward you embrace him, finding his hips as a comfortable spot to rest your free hand. No surprise, Joel indulged, pulling you into his arms too.

The two of you stood for some time, merely appreciating and savoring the moment of intimacy. You didn't think any words could pinpoint how much you loved Joel. Not even the word ‘loved’ felt like it was doing him justice. It was beyond that.

“What did I do to deserve you," he mutters above your ear.

“Luck," you say.

He hums, knowing it to be true but hating the notion of life without you, fighting for you made it all worth something, made it mean something. He made small circles around your back, just being grateful he had you now, thankful that you made it to this point to be there in his arms.

"I'm making dinner," Joel says, catching you off guard for a moment. "Got the ingredients for your favorite."

You knew what he was talking about, it was meal you'd two shared before and you couldn't keep quiet about your enjoyment of the dish, even while eating the damn thing.

Luck would have you, again, you were about to experience that meal again.

---

You turned the running faucet of the soothing shower off, grabbing the towel just off the shower's hinges to wrap yourself in its warmth. Stepping out the tub, you began to dry yourself, wiping away all the sweat you'd built up after leaving Jackson. Once knowing this new place had running water, you were quick to jump for the shower, never skipping the opportunity to get yourself clean.

Joel was just downstairs prepping dinner for the two of you. You wondered if it was already finished since you spent way too long wandering the upstairs plane; checking the available rooms before finding the shower. You were sure it wasn't even done yet since Joel would've called out for your name by that point.

Wiping away the last remnants of water, you threw on some spare clothing, a shirt and just your underwear, from your backpack before stepping out the restroom. The cooler air hit your body, nothing you wouldn't accept since the season was a lot warmer; spring.

You made your way into the master bedroom. In this case, your shared room with Joel. Not much was in it. Compared to the other bedroom, which hosted nothing at all, this one at least had a bed and a few dressers. You weren't complaining since the room felt less compacted and more freeing.

Walking into the room you toss your towel onto the bed, taking in the open space, a stark contrast to your room back in Jackson. The thought of what you could implement to this room had your mind racing momentarily. Like what you could put within the corners or whether you should put any entertaining devices in the room. Maybe not the last part probably cause Joel would advise keeping those contained to the living room.

It got you pretty thrilled thinking about what you could do in general now that you weren't limited to a communities resources. This of course meant you didn't have as much to work with, but everything you gathered would or could be used to further improve your new home.

You started comparing your home back in Jackson to the one you have here. Down to it's interior, format, and spacing. You thought about the kitchen, dinning area, your shared room, Ellie's room. Ellie. Again you thought about her, a realization hitting you in the process. 'Fuck' you sighed under your breath. So caught up and enthralled by a nice change of environment, you hadn't even thought about her wellbeing.

At the moment, she was at Tommy and Maria's place, likely giving them a hard time as you'd expect. The usual for Ellie. But being so far away from her, not being there for her made you somewhat fazed; a pinch of disgrace too. That girl was tough and she needed to grow up around people to understand what it's like to live. But on the other hand, she'd follow you and Joel to the ends of the earth, she said it herself.

Throughout the wave of thoughts, washing within your head, you were by the window now. Hands perched up on the dresser just below the glass's border. The spot made for a great place to reflect. Perhaps this would be a good position to do it, overlooking the grassy plains, it gave your head a hub place to ponder.

If it weren't for you being lost in your thoughts, you would've been aware of the man standing by the door frame watching you; completely out of eyesight. Joel, leaning up on the frame with his arm, exhales an exaggerated sigh to catch your attention.

You turn, startled by the sudden noise. Realizing it was just Joel you relaxed. "You almost gave me a heart attack," you joked.

His presence definitely lightened you up, giving you something to distract yourself from any thoughts running in your head. You'd talk out how to settle Ellie's situation with Joel, it'll work out; you knew it would with Joel by your side.

"Sorry" he started, his eyes gazing upon your exposed legs. "Dinner's ready."

You nod, "Alright. I'll be down in a bit."

You thought after relaying this to Joel, that he'd leave and wait for you downstairs. But he didn't move, his figure remaining still as his eyes stayed focus on you. He nods too, but it seemed more that he did it subconsciously since his eyes weren't locked with yours.

The look was back and more prominent than ever. The dark look that you avoided earlier, was calling out for you to let him have you. Mixed with the half smile across his face made for a deadly combo.

You tried being clever, looking about the room to see if your bag was in sight. It wasn't, but you were sure it was still in the restroom after changing out your clothes. "I'm gonna grab my pants, really quick-"

"You don't have to" Joel says, his fingers playing with his nails. "I think you look fine already."

Failed, you tried getting to see if the man would hold off, tried keeping him at bay at least until you both were in bed. But no, you only drew more attention to your undergarments. To make matters even worse, Joel's gruff voice had caused a twitch between your legs. A slight growth a hardness, noticeable by both of you.

Joel bit his lips, taking his weight off of the door, "You're not too hungry, right?"

This was the one time where choosing your words carefully would be wise at the moment. However, you felt there was no turning back now. He wanted you, now. And you wanted him more. You sheepishly shook your head, "Not really", finally falling for the man's glare.

While you spoke, Joel already had closed the gap between you too, looking into your eyes for a moment. He hooks the front of your trousers with his finger, pulling you closer to him until his lips were locked with yours. You inhaled deeply, feeling a tingle shake your spine.

He cups the sides of your face, passionately parting his lips to slide his tongue inside. Fast as Joel was to get things going, you accepted. The warmth elevated by the mixing of each others taste made the tightness in your underwear uncomfortable.

Joel's huffs deeply into the kiss, his grip, grew stronger with each passing second. His weight started to shift your stance, causing you to back up until you hit the dresser behind you. You grunted against his mouth, not letting the movement stop you from continuing to brush your tongue against his.

Both moaning and breathing heavily, you grab at his collar shirt, playing with one of the buttons to get it open. You tried getting him to undress, a chance taken from you when he grabs your wrist tightly. The man wanted nothing but to feel your skin against his own. He wanted to savior the moment. He liked the build up, he loved the anticipation.

His hands were free from your face, but they soon started invading your shirt. He rampaged through it, running them around your shirt before sticking them in by your sides. You tremble at his touch. His hand created a warm sensation on your skin, reminding you of the times he’d draw circles on your back whenever you’d lay in bed together.

For you, gripping his jawline pulled you two closer, crotches colliding too. It peaked Joel’s interest, his eyebrows raising between the groans against your lips. Joel’s jeans made it difficult to tell, but it was clear you were hard, just as hard as he was. That got him to smile into the kiss, proud he could get you really erect quickly.

You parted your lips from his, only a few inches apart. You used the moment to catch some air, something you knew you wouldn't be granted later the further you proceed.

You questioned his smile, "What?" "Nothing," he says, his accent rolling off the tip of his tongue. "Just you". He waits a moment before throwing himself back into the fray, wanting your lips to be sealed with his.

Aggressive, he pushes you harder against the dresser, unintentionally crushing you moments before dipping down to grab your legs and halting you onto the wooded surface. The dresser creaked, not adapted to a person being onto but that didn't concern either of you. The man caress your thigh, slow and aimlessly, while his other hand yanked at the front of your underwear once more.

He wanted you to take them off so badly and you didn't waste a moment. You shook yourself, getting enough room under you to slip them off. Joel helped, his steaming breath hitting your slowly exposing skin made you pick the pace up. He help fully get them off, letting the cloth hit the ground. His gaze fixed on your now exposed erection made him forget to breathe.

“Now your turn”, you said.

Rubbing his hands down your legs, he reaches down for his zipper to unbuckled his pants. His belt clicked and his pants loosened, dropping everything done to the floor with a thud. He swiftly took his underwear off too, slipping it fully off and sliding everything off to the side with his feet.

You let out a shaky exhale, your eyes so baffled by how hard his cock was; rock solid and strictly standing upward. Your started pondering if you could even take it. Under these conditions you would have to take him raw. There had to be something to use, you thought something to make it easier for him.

“Hey”, Joel’s voice soft on your ears. He tilts your head up to hold your gaze, “Eyes on me.” He slowly caresses the features on your face, adoring just how amazing your eyes looked and how kissable your lips were. Those lips, looking at them intently he slips his thump across the bottom half. He wanted to nibble on them, gently bite to leave a mark on them; to leave evidence of his pass doings.

He used his other hand to play with your cock, making sure you were staying hard for him. You assisted him with your palm overlapping his; working in unison. It was subtle and worked to keep you both pleasured while focusing on the man.

Joel dipped his finger between your lips, “Open your mouth, baby”. Your lips separated and he slid his finger in. A bitter taste hit the roof of your mouth as he swirled his finger around. “Get it nice and wet for me. Gonna need it for the hole of yours.”

So this was the alternative. Normally you and Joel would talk about using some sort of cream for sex. With seemingly none around to use, your mouth would have to do. You started sucking on his finger for a bit, his thick finger, took up a good portion of your mouth. Not enough to suffocate like his cock, but enough to make you think about how to manage your tongue’s movement. After the first finger he switched it out for another, a small line of saliva leaking out every time he’d pull out.

Three finger were soaked now, three fingers you were sure would break you, more than his cock would. You shiver, trying to estimate the width of his fingers with that of his cock. It served no purpose other than question your capabilities. What good did that do you, especially now?

Joel releases your cock, and trails his hands down to your balls. You knew where he was headed, this wasn’t your first rodeo with Joel. You lifted your leg up, leaning back onto one elbow to keep yourself upright. Joel effortlessly threw your hovering leg over his shoulder, getting a view of what he’d been dying to see. Your hole, albeit at an angle was still visible and accessible which was the only thing that mattered to Joel.

The man, looked to your eyes for conformation, he wanted to make sure you were ready. There wasn't a hint of denial in your face, Joel loved that look.

Coming into close contact, he circles around your entrance. His rough fingers toyed with your hole, allowing the sensations to prepare you for his soon to come entry. God the feeling alone was making you wish he just put himself inside you, knowing it might hurt but still wanting him to push deep in.

No longer waiting, Joel pushes a finger inside, slowly. You narrowed your brows, the walls of your ass being breached caused a slight spark in your stomach. His finger slid relatively easily, getting your breathing to become shakier than before. It was nothing you couldn't take and his finger was satisfying, it might've been enough to make you cum. His second finger though, made itself known too, pushing in with the first.

You winced, wishing Joel had warned you. Two thick fingers inside was about right, it felt about the size of Joel's cock at it's hardest. Staying with this rhythmic push and pull inside your hole made you believe you were ready for him to fuck you. But one other finger remained, one still damp and set to go.

A yelp escaped your lips feeling the third join the other two. It hurt for sure, causing you to throw your head back as a jolt reaction. You bump the glass pane behind you, the light outside barely shining onto the side of your face. You reached up to grab at Joel's collar, the fabric bringing some level of comfort with it's pure softness.

"Relax..." the man groans.

Fuck you wanted to, but how could you when the man was expanding your ass with every thrust. It made you grip his collar tightly as you kept your eyes tight to prevent it a tear from falling. The feeling was both painful and enjoyable, the tingles running up your stomach never ceased and neither did the sting in your hole.

You started to tell, no, insist that he fuck you. It escaped your mouth through a whine, a part of you wanting him to just remove a finger or two to let you relax. You knew it had purpose, you knew why he was pushing your limits. The longer you held, the easier it would be for him to push himself inside of you. Still you begged, "Please...Joel...take me, just fuck me."

Through your closed eyelids you couldn't see the man, shamelessly smirking, "Oh yeah? Tell me how bad you want it, sugar pie."

You gasp, "Bad".

He groans, "Yeah?". He licks his lips, "Want me to go really deep in there, want to me fuck you real good."

"Uh...huh"

He pushes fingers deeper than usual "How badly?"

You gasped, "Really fucking bad. FUCK".

Joel groans, acknowledging your plead. If you wanted it that badly, he wish you told him sooner. He pulls his fingers out, the sounds of your hole getting him excited. It was wet now, just the way he liked it. In one swift motion, Joel flings your other, idle leg over his shoulder and yanks you forward until your backside was against his crotch. His cock, bumping into your balls got another sound out of you.

You relax into the dresser the best you could, letting your elbows rest and leaning your head back until it was laying against the glass again. It wasn't the most comfortable positions for your neck, you didn't pay much mind to this though as Joel began running his hands up your thighs. With your legs so close to his face, he also started leaving kisses and bite marks you knew would be visible the next day. He wasn't about to let you off without at least some marking, whether it'd be visible later or hidden by your clothes didn't concern him.

Breathing hard against your skin, his gaze turns back to his hard-on. He reaches for it, while overlooking your body. He lines it up to your hole pushing, not inside of you yet, but rather around the exterior.

Again with the teasing, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes but refusing to try. Did the man not tire of his own nonsense? You shifted your hip toward his cock, physically telling him to knock it off and shove it in you.

He locks eyes with you then, seeing your desperate and longing expression. You chewed down on your lips, seeing how the man's eyes had darken since last you laid upon them. He just smirked, looking down between your legs before pushing himself in.

It hurt but not as much as his fingers. The aftermath of those three invaders acted as a testament to how well you could still take the man in strides. For what it was worth, they did make it easier for him to slide into you.

He slipped in and out easily, smooth like butter. His thrust started methodically, getting familiar with your hole's interior again. He groaned, his cock pulsating against the edges, trying to find your sweet spot.

He wasn't able too, it wasn't that easy. You had laid there making hush moans that could only be audible for anyone within the room. It was striking and incredibly hot to Joel hearing you try to conceal your voice. It came off is if you were going to burst, like you were going to scream out his name, that was something else entirely.

Thinking about it gave him a surge, a rush that rapidly increases his pace. His hips smacking up against your ass, created a sound that vibrated your body. Each smack, was music to the man's ears, meld together now with your rising grunts. It probably was the best thing he'd ever heard.

You were losing it on the other hand. Your body trembled, your eyes became hazy, your mind completely in shambles; a mess best described it all. So much so that you had no idea what was even happening, questioning what was even real.

Were you becoming stupid with each thrust or did you completely lose your mind to him. His strides were beginning to make you see stars, more pleasing than the ones you'd see in the sky. A sudden overwhelming feeling rushes from your stomach all the way to your head, the strongest sensation you've felt all day. It made you feel light, like you had been consumed by the clouds.

This strange halt in your mind lasted for a minute before coming back from being on autopilot. You were semi-confused as your body was on a softer surface now. Your body lays flat, Joel's entire weight on top of you. Your senses were coming back to you.

The dresser was no longer your resting place but rather it was now the bed. Joel had lifted you up moments ago, still inside you, and crashed you both onto the mattress. Surprisingly that didn't snap you out of it, but what was even more confusing was the wetness near your stomach, just in between your stomach and Joel's. It was quite sticky. Wait, you stopped your mind from racing, ignoring Joel's rough groans in your ears for a second. You already came, you totally did. Your cock didn't feel restrained nor was it in any desire need to let loose any longer.

Shit, you thought, not realizing the man had satisfied you. You got lost in thought due to him hitting your sweet spot, it explained why your mind went into a frenzy. The feeling sent you over the edge again, jolting you back to reality this time; he hit it again.

You cry out as a response.

"Fuck, I'm gonna blow, I'm gonna fucking blow". Joel groaned.

You couldn't speak a word, it was too much, too much to bear. You dug your nails into the back of his shirt and pulled him closer with your legs around his waist. Your strength was dwindling, and you didn't have the voice to tell him to finish. If he kept it up any longer you were surely gonna cum again.

Joel's voice was deafening against your ears, his rhythm completely erratic and harsh against your hole. He went all out, posting himself up onto his elbows and thrusting into you like it was his last. He could feel the sharpness on his back, a deep sting from you nails pushing further into his skin. He watched as tears rolled down your face, wanting nothing but to wipe them away. He was right there, he could feel it rising up.

A few more rough thrusts did the trick. Joel grunted, holding his breath for a second as his cock convulsed before blowing. It came out fast, faster than he expected, squirting strings of cum in succession against your interior. He squinted his eyes, as he came quickly back down to your neck.

Joel's cock had settled, just as the two of you were. Exhausted beyond belief, you felt weak, one of your slipping off the man's back. You both relish in each other's touch, your breaths becoming steady at last.

The man's body shifts, causing you discomfort from still being inside of you. He reaches down to pull out, a quiet groan breaking free from your sealed lips. He used his other hand to cup and rub your cheek, his way of showing his gentleness after the affair. The man's cum oozed out, running down onto the mattress. You could feel how wet and loose it had become. Compared to the last time Joel had fucked you, you weren't as messy as you were now.

He then looked over to the side, seeing the towel you had used from earlier. He grabs it and wipes away the stains on your stomach.

You let out a sigh followed by locking eyes with Joel. They looked a lot more calmer, vibrant even just by his soothing demeanor.

As he finished wiping you clean the corner of his lips rose, "We should go eat."

Just like that, he had nothing left to say, acting as if nothing just happened. You scoffed at how quick the man could go from wanting to devour you to being a sensual man who wanted to give you the world. You weren't ready to rise from your position, not yet. You yank the towel out of his grasp before pulling him back down onto you.

Dinner can wait, just a bit longer.

reader being Steve’s bi awakening-

uh... better late than never?

mlm only | women dni

bi bi bi

reader being Steve’s bi awakening-

Ever since he was young, Steve Harrington knew exactly how his life would turn out. His parents had practically planned it for him, not that he was resisting much. He’d finish high school, take a job his father offered, marry a pretty girl, and have a family. It may have seemed quiet or boring, but it wasn’t a life he disliked. In fact, he thought it sounded nice.

Through high school, he thought about it more than he’d like to admit. He flirted with plenty of girls, though he’d never intended the relationships to be anything more than a fling. But when he started dating Nancy, everything felt different.

Suddenly he wasn’t imagining some random girl as his wife in a few years, he imagined her. The two of them moving into their own house and settling down. Having kids and growing old together. That all made sense to him.

Nancy breaking up with him was the first wrench in the gears. His life was a well-oiled machine before, continuing on without issue. But the second Nancy said it was all bullshit, the cogs jammed.

Still, he didn’t give up on his life plan. Even if Nancy wasn’t the woman he’d eventually marry, that didn’t ruin things for him. He could deal with that. He spent a while chasing after her like an idiot, but he eventually accepted things, and even continued a friendship with her.

By then, he wasn’t really one for dating anymore. Not for lack of trying. Nothing ever worked out though. It never felt the same, or he wasn’t able to flirt his way to getting a number.

With Nancy’s wrench still stuck between the metal, the Upside Down decided to shove in a hammer.

Everything he knew about the world was turned on its head. Monsters, portals, girls with magic powers? It was all different and weird. His life wasn’t running so smoothly anymore, it needed far more maintenance than he remembered.

It didn’t make things impossible, just difficult.

Prioritizing the safety of the kids and the rest of his friends had eaten away at the passion he had for finding a relationship. He still wanted one, sure, but he was more worried about surviving.

He managed to reconcile with Nancy, agreeing to stay friends. He was even on decent terms with Johnathan, though he wouldn’t consider them close. He’d met Robin, his once crush turned best friend. And he’d gotten closer with Eddie despite being his ex-bully. That was enough for now.

When the heat finally cooled, that same dream of settling down with a wife and kids was still in the back of his mind.

And then you came along.

If losing Nancy was a wrench in the gears and the Upside Down was a hammer, you were the whole damn toolbox.

Robin had been the one to introduce you to the group. He’d heard your name a few times, and suggested she bring you to one of the movie nights he’d started. Steve, Eddie, Nancy, Robin and sometimes the kids would end up at Steve’s house, binge watching whatever movies Robin snatched off the shelves of Family Video.

The first thing he noticed about you was your smile. More specifically, the smug look on your face after you knew you won an argument. He wasn’t really expecting it to be the first feature he noticed, but it was anyway.

He saw you smile the first time he met you. Apparently you’d been one of her friends for a good while, and Steve could tell she was excited for you all to meet. She also thought you’d get along with Eddie (her thinly veiled attempt to set you up with the metal head).

 Steve hadn’t been paying attention when you and Robin came through the door. He was just beginning to feel the buzz of the blunt Eddie had lit and he found himself distracted. He was much more focused on waiting for Eddie to pass it back as opposed to the sound of Robin’s boots clicking against his floor.

“Sorry we’re late, someone’s a shitty driver,” She said, shrugging as she walked toward the group on the couch. You followed close behind, an offended look on your face. 

“Pretty sure we were late because you couldn’t decide on Horror v.s. Comedy,” you reminded, an eyebrow raised as you stared at your friend.

Eddie passed over the blunt, yet again distracting Steve from looking over to you. Robin only rolled her eyes, waving you off. “Besides, you can’t even drive, be nicer to your ride.”

“What do you think Steve is for?” She questioned, smirking.

Steve finally came back to himself when she mentioned his name. It took him a second to register the insult, but looking over to you only resulted in him choking on air.

He coughed a few times, the smoke burning his throat and earning him a few rough pats on the back from Eddie.

Back then, Steve wasn’t sure if he found you attractive. Sure, he could appreciate when a man looked nice, but that didn’t mean anything. Robin could do the same thing. So he didn’t think much of it. He was a little more nervous, but nothing that time and a few more hits couldn’t fix.

“I’m sure you won’t need me to drive you to the mall this weekend then?” Robin’s eyes immediately narrowed at you, and Steve found himself staring at the smile that crossed your face.

He hadn’t even been introduced to you and you already had his attention. Plus, he’d made a lackluster first impression, coughing his lungs out like it was his first time smoking.

“Excuse her poor behavior,” You said sarcastically. Your smirk never left your face, even when Robin punched you in the arm and took a seat in an armchair. “I’m Y/n, I assume Robin mentioned that, though.”

The group went around introducing themselves, and Steve was just thankful he didn’t make himself look like an idiot again when he said his name.

He’d never really been nervous introducing himself to people. After all, he was the center of attention at Hawkins. But for some reason, you were intimidating.

Maybe ‘intimidating’ wasn’t right. Steve wasn’t really sure what was right, though. He wasn’t scared of you, more scared you’d think he was weird.

That first night went better than they expected.

Robin manipulated their usual seating arrangement, making sure you took a spot next to Eddie. She was clearly playing matchmaker, bringing up topics you both liked throughout the night.

Steve was just happy he got to sit on your other side.

The second thing he noticed about you was your personality. He’d gotten the basics of who you were at your first movie night, but as he started to get to know you better, he learned a lot more.

You’d gotten a job at a record store near Family Video so you’d often stop in on your lunch breaks or after your shift finished. Steve knew it was just to see Robin, you were close friends after all. But he was always happy when you decided to chat with him too.

As it turns out, you were funny. Really funny. You managed to make him laugh easier than anyone else.

You were interesting, too. You noticed things about him that most people ignored. You’d once complimented his eyes. It caught him off guard.

Most people complimented his looks, his hair, his face, clothes, whatever. It was mostly surface level, and probably just offhand comments from high schoolers who wanted to be his friend. But something about the way you stared into his eyes when you said it made him stutter slightly when he responded.

“Your eyes look so… soft. They’re pretty.”

You gave him a smile that froze him on the spot and he choked out a confused ‘thank you’ as fast as he could.

You nodded and carried on the conversation, but even hours later, Steve couldn’t get the interaction out of his head.

You stared like you were analyzing him, looking over each of his features with an expression he hadn’t seen before. If he didn’t know better, he’d described it as admiration.

Steve sat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and rethinking the way you looked him over.

He wanted you to do it again.

The third thing he noticed was how much you respected him. Not that people didn’t respect him. But you brought a different kind of respect.

He was used to freshmen staring at him like a god. The stares of jealousy his classmates gave him and the fake smiles they’d plaster on seconds later. He was used to their false respect, the kind that made them want to be him and hate him at the same time.

He was used to the respect the kids showed him. They treated him like an annoying older sibling, insulting him but trusting him all the same. He was used to how relaxed they were around him. How they looked at him with real smiles and shouted playful insults. He was used to the familial respect he’d earned from them.

He’d even gotten used to the kind respect he earned from his friends. He wasn’t ‘King Steve’ anymore, and despite his expectations, they showed him even more respect because of that. Eddie, Robin, and Nancy were there for him. It wasn’t anything like the false friendships he was used to or the people who pretended to like him just to be popular. They helped him and let him help them. Their shared trauma wasn’t one that many people could relate to, and he’d slowly gotten used to their honest respect.

But with you, it was different.

You remembered the small things. His favorite color, favorite song, even his favorite hair products. You’d notice things that even Robin skipped over.

He only realized it when you’d shown up one day for your lunch break.

Robin was filling out inventory paperwork in the breakroom. Steve managed to trade her some chips and a ride to Nancy’s house so she would do them instead of him.

You came into Family Video, this time holding a small plastic bag along with your usual lunchbox.

“Hey, Stevie!” You smiled, giving him a small wave as you let the door close behind you. The nickname made him smile too.

“Hey,” he gave you a small nod, leaning onto the cashier’s counter.

“Robin forgot her lunch again?” He questioned, looking down at the bag in confusion.

He heard her shout “No I didn’t!” all the way from the back room. He rolled his eyes at his, ignoring the slightly quieter insults that came from the room.

You chuckled at them. “Actually, this is for you.” You placed it in front of him like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

He didn’t get gifts often, especially not outside of holidays. When he was younger, his parents got him things they thought he’d like when Christmas came around. It looked like a typical rich family Christmas, an absurd amount of presents and a young Steve excited by all the new toys. But the novelty wore off and it was obvious his parents knew nothing about him. Now he didn’t expect anything from his friends, though they usually got him something for the holidays anyway.

He didn’t voice his thoughts, instead reaching for the bag slowly.

There was a small white box inside, your first name written on it in black ink. Inside were frosted cookies, sugar with multicolored icing and rainbow sprinkles on top. He recognized them immediately, they were a favorite of his from a bake shop a few towns over.

He looked up at you with wide eyes. It wasn’t that long a drive, but he still wasn't sure why you’d go that far out of your way.

“You got this for me?” It was a dumb question considering that you just said it was his, but you didn't seem to mind,

“Yeah! You mentioned liking their cookies so I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” You shrugged, treating it as if it was a normal Tuesday. There was no way you’d driver to Cloverfield just for some cookies, ones you’d never even had to begin with. And only because he recommended them? What was going on with you?

“Uh, you okay there?” You questioned, noticing how Steve was staring at you blankly. Your question was enough to snap him out of it. He was fine, obviously.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, slowly shutting the box in an attempt to not eat one of them immediately. “Thank you, I didn’t think you remember some random bakery, is all.”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t the nicest gesture anyone had ever shown him. “Couldn’t pass up a chance for good cookies,” You joked, catching him with your smile yet again.

And the last thing he noticed was how you made him feel.

He’d felt the same way with Nancy for a while before their relationship came apart at the seams.

He felt nervous, though it was in a good way. He loved being around you. If it were up to him, the two of you would find some nice house and move in together, just like he’d always seen him and Nancy doing.

And that’s when it started to click. The second he started comparing you to how he felt in his previous relationships. Nancy was the only girl he’d really been in love with, but even then he was a much different person. It was a far different love than… well… it was different.

But he wasn’t sure why he’d replaced her with you in his head. All the daydreams of him and Nancy getting a house with a white picket fence had turned to dreams of you instead.

He’d brushed it off at first, he’d thought something similar about Robin at one point, but it was much closer to friendship. It was easy to brush it off as nothing.

Until Robin noticed how odd he was acting.

You had just left the store, your lunch break over, when Robin turned to him.

“Alright, what’s going on with you two.” Her voice was firm, like she wasn’t going to take any sort of protest or argument from him. “If he’s dating Eddie and you guys aren’t telling me I’m gonna lose it, y’know,” She smirked. Still playing matchmaker.

The mention brought his mood down slightly, but he refocused on the question quickly.

“Nothing? He always comes here for his lunch break?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed. Robin rolled her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

“You were nervous that whole time. Like nervous nervous, I thought you were gonna start shaking or something. Plus you couldn’t stop staring at that bastard like he murdered your 6th grade pet.”

Steve scoffed. “Never had a 6th grade pet, and I wasn’t nervous.”

“Did he tell you not to spill about him and Eddie?!” She guessed, her jaw dropping in over-exaggerated shock. “I swear he’s trying to avoid the topic but I know those two would be good together.”

Steve’s mood dampened again, though he tried to ignore it.

“He hasn’t mentioned Eddie, I’m just distracted,” Steve assured, offering her a genuine smile. “He’s just a lot nicer than I expected, is all.”

Robin raised a brow at this. “Nicer?”

Steve nodded, thinking over how close you’d gotten over time. “Yeah, like he remembered a comment I made about a bakery once like a month ago. And he made me a tape with the songs I listen to a lot because I complained about having to switch out the ones I made myself.” Steve would’ve kept rambling if it weren’t for the increasingly intense expression on Robin’s face.

“Okay, hot guy gets you gifts. We’ve all given each other stuff, that doesn’t make you unable to speak a coherent sentence in front of someone.” He gave her a light glare for the comment, which she only shrugged at. She wasn’t wrong.

“It’s more just… I don’t know. It’s really nice, I guess? I like spending time with him a lot more than I thought, I guess it’s making me spacey.” He decided to ignore the first part of her statement, but she clearly had no plans of ignoring the dopey grin on his face when he spoke.

“Holy. Shit,” She whispered, sounding completely in awe.

“What?” Steve looked up, glancing around the room for what made her sound so surprised. He only saw her staring at him, though.

“You like him.”

“Of course I do?” He questioned. “I wouldn’t hang out with him if I didn’t like him, Robin,” he scoffed.

“No dumbass, I’m saying that sounds like a crush.”

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that his brain rebooted the second she said that.

Crush wasn’t a word he’d considered.

But he’d dated women, and he liked them too. Robin’s theory wasn’t really holding up.

“I’m not gay,” He reminded her with a shrug. “I like women.”

“Steve, you don’t just have to be gay or straight, you know.” He was confused at that. He didn't know anything more about being gay than what Robin and Eddie had told him. They were both willing to educate, something Steve really needed. His parents were open about their opinion of same-sex couples and there was a lot to unlearn about what he heard.

“You don’t?”

“It’s called being bisexual.”

Oh…

Oh.

Oh.

Steve didn’t know a single sentence could make so many pieces fall into place. And just like that, you weren’t a toolbox stuck in the gears, you were spinning them faster than ever.

I am here to request a Steven Grant c Male reader! Maybe something along the lines of it's the reader snd Steven's first time having sex. Reader is s bit more experienced than Steven so he goes all slow and gentle until Steven gets annoyed cause reader is treating him like fragile glass? Amd the reader just goes all out?

Can I be ☕ anon?

oooo first Steven smut it is! enjoy this while I work on JATB and blood sucker <3

and yes of course! id love to have a new anon!

Steven was soft and breakable, a lot softer than you. Sure, you had your moments, but Steven nearly cried about a ladybug you crushed (it was an MnM).

So, naturally, you assumed everything was breakable.

He’d told you early on that you were his first boyfriend, so you never expected him to be experienced. Plus it was clear Steven was the more passive of you two, so you never questioned your roles in the relationship.

You always let Steven guide you a bit. While you most certainly wanted to ruin him, you were still his first.

Even with your lips against his, his arms wrapped around your neck, you placed him softly against his bed. He was always more comfortable in his flat anyway.

He let out a soft groan as you pushed him further back, your weight sinking him into the mattress.

“You alright, love?” You questioned, pulling away momentarily before nipping at his neck, letting him answer. He only let out a hum, and you could hear him gasp as you mouthed at his jawline.

God you were tempted to pin his hands above him and make him see stars, but for now you’d go slow. You’d have to work your way up before springing something like that on him.

Your hands slid up from his hips as he tugged on your shirt, trying to slide it off. You chuckled lightly, letting him go and pulling it off yourself. You took his off moments after, your lips sliding down his body slowly. It wasn’t enough to leave marks, but enough for Steven to lightly push your head against him, silently asking for more.

“Please,” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You could practically hear him blushing.

“What, Steven?” You refrained from teasing him, pulling yourself back up and cupping his face lightly.

“I wanna feel you already.”

It was certainly more forward than you were expecting him to be, and damn it if didn’t get you hard(er).

You slid off his pants and your own, offering a soft huff when his hips bucked against yours. You let him, enjoying the small amount of friction it was giving.

You tugged on his boxers lightly, looking up as a silent as for consent. He nodded, bringing a hand down to help you take them off. You almost laughed at how eager he was. It looks like he wanted this as much as you.

Pouring lube on your fingers and warming it a bit, you slid your middle finger into him, savoring the soft moan you got from it. Not even a second later, you heard Steven speak up.

“Another,” he didn’t even give you time to look up before he started begging. “Please, your finger feels so good, please use another one.”

You barely registered it before you slid another in, loving the moan he let out. You stretched him as softly as you could, slowly sneaking in a third finger after a moment.

By then Steven was more disheveled than you had ever seen him, eyes glued on your fingers as he ground back against your hand.

You slid your finger out, loving the keen it earned you.

Sliding in only made him more of a mess, your slow thrusts hitting his prostate every time.

Now, Steven was beyond happy with just that. Really, he was happy with you at all times. But right now, he wouldn’t mind if you decided to absolutely wreck him.

You froze at the sudden grip on your bicep, a grip much tighter than you expected from Steven. You almost thought Marc or Jake had made an appearance, but one look reassured you that it was still Steven.

“I’m not gonna break,” He reassured, managing to read your mind with little more than a thought. “I love you, and I love how much you love me. But right now I’d really love if you made me scream.”

To say you paused was an understatement.

“St-”

“I’m fine. I… I know I’m... new and everything. But I trust you. I do, and I know I can just ask you to stop if anything goes wrong.” He spoke softly, as if his words would break you for once. “Please just fucking rail me.”

To be honest, you’d probably never hear him talk like that again, especially with how red he was right now. But you really wished you’d gotten that on video.

Your hips finally snapped into his, your skin making a loud slapping noise. His head slammed backward into the bed, a moan escaping his throat.

You kept fucking into him, the lewd sticky sounds from the both of you filling your ears along with Steven’s moaning.

“Who knew you’d be such a pretty whore?”

He only gripped onto your shoulders, legs wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Been wanting to see you like this forever,” You commented. He could barely respond with words, your hips slamming into his before he got the chance to speak. He tried moving his own hips, but yours were hitting him too deep for him to think.

“Fuckkk you’re- hc, you’re so deep,” He whined, moans getting higher pitch.

“You gonna cum already, pretty boy? We barely even started,” You commented, chuckling at the way his eyes rolled back at your words. “C’mon, go ahead. I know you can, baby.”

You grabbed onto him, jacking him off with in time with your thrusts.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease” His moans devolved into jumbled begging as you pounded into him, your thighs burning. You lifted one of his legs higher, hitting a different angle that made his eyes roll back.

He came a moment later, coating his stomach with streaks of white. You slowed down, not wanting to overwhelm him even if you hadn’t cum yet.

“You okay?” You asked, watching as your boyfriend took quick, heavy breaths.

“Keep going.” You thought you’d misheard him at first, but his legs tightened around you again. “Please, Y/n. Just keep going, I just want to feel you.”

He didn’t have to beg much longer, since you slammed back in again, you skin slapping against his.

You came a few thrusts later, Steven letting out a high pitched moan when you did so.

You finally let his leg down, slowly pulling out.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” You offered, starting to slide off the bed before he grabbed your wrist.

“Just… just lay here a second, yeah?” He stared at you, eyes begging and still glazed over.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Cracked but Unbroken (Capitol!Reader x Finnick Odair)

does it count as a request if I'm begging for more Finnick and capital reader?

Finnick finds it hard to cope with the fact that almost legally, you own him, but he loves you.

You've sacrificed a lot to protect him, and Finnick can't shake the idea that at some point, you'll want to collect on that debt.

It's the moment that you provide him with a room in your place. A room with a door that can be locked from the inside.

Finnick tests it, and something just rocks him to the core.

You've given him the opportunity to keep you out. To protect himself.

And even if it's largely symbolic, the gesture is not lost on him.

You've had food delivered to your penthouse, and Finnick emerges to join you.

It hurts too much to thank you for thinking of him, for seeing him not as a Victor but as a fragile person without a scrap of comfort and giving him something of his own, so instead he just gathers up several dishes and invites you into his space, locking the door behind you.

You follow him, and he wordlessly pulls you close, and you eat with your hands, sitting on the floor, blankets around you.

Finnick laughs at your obvious lack of experience eating like this and feeds you instead.

Not in a sexy way, he's not even thinking of that- he's literally just helping you so you stop dropping food back on your plate and pouting adorably.

Finnick talks softly to you, not about anything in particular, but you love his voice and how he sounds when he's not worrying.

The conversation lulls when you finish eating. Finnick is just holding you in his lap, your back against his chest.

The trust you've shown him. The care you've given. Finnick is unsure of whether he wants to protect you or accept you as his protector.

For now, it's both. He holds you tight when you try to move.

"Don't go."

You hold his arms. "I won't."

He pulls you onto the bed, and just holds you.

You've slept in the same bed together before, but never so intimately.

He doesn't seem to know what to do besides hold you, so his lips find their way to your neck.

"Finnick... you don't have to-"

"I want to." He interrupts, softly biting your neck. "Now hush. Let me... let me kiss you."

"Anything you want," you breathe.

He holds you tight, his arms pinning yours - protection? restraint? lust? And resumes kissing your neck.

"I want you," he growls. "But... not like I've had it. I want... I don't want. I..."

"Go ahead." you soothe. "Whatever you'd like. However you like."

There's no more words that night, but you two become closer than you've ever been...

Jason Todd with Daredevil!Male!Reader?

Maybe where the reader is basically like Daredevil and he meets him out of costume, he realizes the reader is blind and decided to help him out, not realizing who he is and forming a connection? Take this however you please and take care of yourself! 🫶

“Helpless”

——

Pairing: [Red Hood] Jason T. x [Daredevil] reader

Pronouns: he/him

Fandom: DC/Marvel

Quote: “You just looked so eager to help me. I couldn’t say no.”

Disclaimer: Reader is blind.

A/n: I’ve been wanting to write a daredevil reader for so long, you have no idea. This isn’t quite how I wanted it, and it may not be for you either, I’m sorry. Thank you for your request, and have a good day.

Master list

Word count: 1.2k

——

Y/n walked down the street. His cane searches across the ground in front of him. The unneeded guidance shows him down the sidewalk. It was cold, stuffy; it was going to rain. He paid close attention to those around him. Their breathing patterns. Their heartbeat.

His tie swayed ever-so slightly while he walked. His dress shoes made small thuds on the ground as he walked. His red-tinted glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, slowly sliding down by the minute just for him to push it back up. Briefcase in one hand, can in the other.

Soon felt a bumpy surface, indicating he was at a walkway. The can vibrated in his hand at the texture. He heard a guy next to him, turning to “look” at him as he placed the cane under his arm. “Could you press the walk button for me?” He asked.

The man looked up from his phone, y/n could hear the clothes russell around his neck. He nodded, though y/n couldn’t see it, and pressed the walk button. He then chuckled. “It’s pretty cloudy to be wearing sunglasses.” Y/n recognized his voice. It was Red Hood. He had worked with him. They’d have mini conversations every now and again. Red Hood was more warmed up to y/n than y/n was to him. Y/n never agreed with how Red Hood handles situations. How he resulted to a gun, but he never really said anything. He just made small adjustments to his plan when with the man so Red Hood would end up “missing” or getting distracted.

Y/n smiled. “Is it?” He pointed his head up to the sky. Playing along with Red Hood’s assumption he could see.

He heard the “stranger” take a few steps, so he began walking. He put his stick back in front of him, feeling and hearing it scrape against the ground. It clicked in the vigilante’s mind, and guilt ran through him.

“Oh, you’re blind!” He said, holding out his arm and taking a step closer to y/n. “Shit, here. Let me help you.” Y/n didn’t need help even if he wasn’t trained to take in every sound and every smell to guide him through these familiar streets,- Y/n chuckled as he took Jason’s arm. “Thank you.” –but he still accepted it anyway.

“Were you headed?” Red Hood asked.

“Court.” Y/n replied simply. He folded his into itself and attached the string to one of his belt loops.

Jason chuckled. “Ah, jury duty. They always get you with that.” Y/n laughed at his obliviousness, but he didn’t correct him.

“So what’s your name?” Jason asked, trying to make this walk just a little less awkward. Y/n could sense his tenseness, and his brain just registered that cologne Jason wears.

“Y/n l/n.” He replied. “You?”

“Jason Todd.” Y/n nodded, engraving the name into his memory to use against him when he’s in suit.

“Nice to meet you, Jason, and thank you for taking time out of your day to walk a blind man to court.” He joked.

Jason laughed. “Whatever makes me look good.” He joked back, slightly nudging him.

“Using me for girls now, Jason? We just met.” Y/n teased.

Y/n felt the man shrug slightly. “Maybe. We might need to hang out more.”

“Maybe…” Y/n mumbled. “Do you want my number?” He offered.

“Yeah.” Jason said, pulling out his phone. “What is it?”

“092-739-2276.” (Fake number)

“Got it.”

Y/n chuckled. “I think I can walk the rest of the way. I’m familiar with this part of town..” He said, letting go of Jason.

“You have jury duty often?” Jason asked.

“I’m a lawyer.” Y/n replied, unhooking his cane.

—

Y/n smiled at the familiar footsteps. He knew those boots. The sound of the stupid heavy jacket in the wind. He didn’t turn around, sitting on the edge of the building. Listening for anything else.

“Red Hood.” He called out in acknowledgement.

He heard Jason stuff his hands in his pocket. “Twin.” He could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

Y/n chuckled at the nickname. Jason came closer until he was leaning against the ledge Y/n was seated on. “I saw your brother today.” Y/n said.

“Which one?” He asked, walking towards the other man.

“Nightwing.” Jason let out a small “Ah.” “He’s making out with another villain in an alleyway.” Y/n said with a small laugh.

“Right now?” Jason asked.

“In that alleyway.” Y/n said, pointing to an alleyway down the street. “They’re unreasonably loud.”

Jason gasped. “Oh my… that dirty little bird.” He said.

Y/n thought for a moment. “Is his name Dick Grayson?” Y/n asked.

“How do you know that?” Jason countered.

“Because you’re Jason Todd, so that means Batman is Bruce Wayne.” Y/n said, connecting all the dots. He then chuckled.

“How did you figure that out?” Jason asked. He didn’t sound mad.

Y/n chuckled. “I’m just that damn good, I guess.” Y/n stood up on the ledge.

“What’s your name?” Jason asked, standing up straight, looking up at y/n. “It’s only fair I know who you are right?”

Y/n shrugged, slowly walking down the edge. “Ah, I think I’ll keep that to myself.” He said simply.

“Oh, come on!” Red Hood said, following him. “That’s not fair. Can you at least tell me how you figured me out?”

Y/n smiled, turning his head towards him. “I met you out of suit. You just didn’t recognize me.”

Jason thought back to the people he’s met recently. None of them seemed to click into place. “When?” He asked.

Y/n sighed and smiled. “This week.” He said, sitting down. He knew Jason was gonna keep asking questions until he figured it out.

“This week I met an old lady, Bruce’s weird work friend, Dick’s new fling, Damain’s math teacher, some drunkie, and a blind guy.” Jason said. “Was you one of those?”

“I was.” Y/n said.

“Not an old lady. What’s your financial status?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not rich.” Y/n said with a shrug.

“Have you been fucking my brother?”

“If I was, I would be doing something about his current makeout sesh.”

“Huh… You used to be good at math in school, right?” Jason felt happy, he thought he had it.

“We’ve worked together during school hours, bud.”

“Shit.” Jason cursed. “Do you drink?”

“I do, but I only get drunk when I’m at home.” Y/n said.

“Well, I mean, you’re not blind.”

Y/n shrugged with a smirk. He began pulling out his phone.

“You’re blind?” Jason asked in shock.

Y/n just pressed on Jason’s contact as he heard the man’s phone ring. “No fucking way…” Jason mumbled. “You stupid fuck! You didn’t need my help!” He yelled.

“You just looked so eager to help me. I couldn’t say no.”

——

PLAY DATE (CHERRY)— aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: ~6.5k

cw: dilf!aizawa, babysitter!reader, sexual tension, slow burn, spanking/impact play, finger-sucking, d/s undertones, daddy kink, praise, manhandling, age gap (21 yr old reader, 41 yr old aizawa), porn with plot, size difference/kink, spit/drool, degradation, rimming, hand holding, full nelson, creampie, breeding kink, light feminization

a/n: yes i was listenin to lana while writin this! howd u know?!

The click of a mouse. The sound of a scroll wheel grinding against plastic— rubbery and restricted. A family of five, four, three..family oriented individuals with more kids on their hands than time. It was late, even for you. Who scoured the internet until the sky’s inky black atmosphere was painted a pacific blue. From there, you’d tend to sleep into the late hours of the evening, beneath the comfort of a heavy weighted blanket, until your phone went off or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber.

Your dry, tired eyes trace the blurry words of your computer screen, the bright white light beaming through the depths of your continuously darkening bedroom. The room is almost radio silent— save for the occasional crunching of chips between your teeth and the fan of your laptop working overtime. The text is almost hard to read, shying away behind a hazy glare.

‘One kid—6 year old girl. One pet— black bombay cat.’

Sounds promising. The letters are arranged in a blunt manner, straight to the point and even somewhat intimidating, but the clear boundaries and requirements listed are fair enough.. Maybe even tilted in your favor. Your cursor wanders, ready to further inspect the profile presumed to belong to the parent who created the listing.

Shouta Aizawa, a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, long hair to match, and a distinctive scar below his eye— which looks milky and clear. The other, however, is a deep pool of brown, warm like melted chocolate. His irises melt into his long lashes, which remain straight and strict, much like the demeanor he emits in the headshot photo. It must be reminiscent of his ID, as his career is listed just below his picture.

Owner of Eraserhead Industries.

Huh.

Chewing the fleshy insides of your cheeks, your eyes dart across the screen, hesitantly inching the cursor over the bright, bolded ‘message’ button. Sparks ignite in your stomach, blooming in the expanse of your tummy as you type out,

‘When can I start?’

You hear yourself squeal, pushing away your mouse with your fingertips and hiding behind the warmth of your palms before your computer chimes in response. The message stares back at you, perforating into you as you read it over and over, trying to imagine how this—practicably— rich man would sound. You settle for a deep voice, giggling to yourself as you read out the message.

‘The sooner the better.’

The man is much scarier in person, and your imitation of his voice was nowhere near accurate.

His voice is much deeper than you thought, gravelly and not nearly as riddled with giggles like you’d tacked on. In fact, it only seems to deepen as he nurses a mug of black coffee, just one large hand completely shielding the cup in its entirety. He’d ordered it, busying himself with the sheets of paper he had placed upon the polished table as you explained just how much whipped cream you’d wanted in your milkshake to the waitress.

He takes up most of the space on his side of the booth in the homely café, his layers discarded and shed along the plush seating. The man with dark eyes, Shouta Aizawa, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, seemingly stronger than Zeus himself, he seems to have no faults.

But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, umber eyes. They look at you with nothing but impenetrable suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of frosty hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down on Musutafu, framing his locks in a makeshift halo. He looks like a fallen angel, of sorts.

“I don’t trust my kids with other kids,” He says, watching the dark amalgamation of caffeine swirl in his porcelain cup. Does he consider his cat to be his kid, too? “How old are you?”

You perk up, straightening your back as you push your straw in and out of your sickeningly sweet milkshake. Whipped cream clings to the plastic, sticky and bubbly with foam, “Twenty-one, sir.”

Aizawa makes a face at that, steely eyes drooping further with the pinch of his dark eyebrows. They slot perfectly, intricate wrinkles firming between them. Did you… fuck it up? You’d consider yourself an adult— comparable to law, anyway. And you can be mature, especially when it counts, so there shouldn’t really be a problem!

It’s evident he loves his kids, despite the hard exterior that he’s showing off there’s a fatherly glint to his eye. A protective overlay to his words. It’s admirable, if anything. You’d even call it charming, the way his eyes bore into you from the outside-in and pick you apart, if it wasn’t so damn scary being on the receiving end.

“Do you drink?”

“…No?”

“Do you plan to?”

More of an interrogation than anything, you take an awfully long time to reply as you use his suspension as an opportunity to savor your milkshake.

“No.”

You make sure to sound more confident this time.

His questions have been asked before, over text and in a manner not as… blunt as you hear it now. But it’s all down to perception, and you’d managed to wrongfully pin Shouta Aizawa as a care-free, laid back guy. Though, from the looks of it, he seems to live up to the ladder. And, upon closer inspection, it does nothing to tarnish his looks.

“Mm,” Is all he says, humming in acknowledgment as a check is placed his way. “You’re young.”

“Young enough to be your son?” You ask, mouth faster than your brain, and suddenly you can’t stop. Your lips curl upward, a smile gracing your lips as you giggle, “People probably think you’re my sugar daddy or somethin’.”

He doesn’t seem to completely respond to that, letting the comment fly into the air as he shifts. Heat somersaults into your face, heating your body up until you find yourself unable to hold eye contact. Nice going.

You wrap your lips around the plump cherry slowly sinking into your drink, twirling the stem between your teeth. It explodes in your mouth, sharp and sweet along the expanse of your tongue, a nice distraction.

Something alien flickers behind his eyes, “Tech savvy?”

“I— Yeah! I play video games,” You almost forget this is an interview, not a date. The thought makes your brain a little fuzzy, cotton forming in your mouth as you stumble over your answer. “Not— Y'know, never on the clock.”

Shouta looks much more vulnerable with his head turned, his veiny hand reaching into the pocket of his inky pants, pulling out an equally dark credit card. No way. His handwriting is illegible, but the swooning waitress deems it acceptable, thanking him for the tip with a high blush on her cheeks. There isn’t a single ring on his calloused fingers, so it’s almost shocking he doesn’t jump at the opportunity

“Good. Eri likes games.” It’s the most praise you’ve heard all night, and hearing it from the deep rumble of his throat makes it even better. Your gaze must linger, because his dark eyes are staring back into yours, almost looking right through you.

“Eri? Your daughter?”

“I don’t like sharing personal information online.”

You laugh nervously, filling your mouth with the melting drink before he can comment.

“I—Woah, sir… your home is… beautiful.” It’s not just flattery, you genuinely, sincerely mean it. You’ve seen it before, sure, through text and under much more professional scrutiny, but the camera doesn’t do it justice. His house aches with love, wrapped up in kisses and enveloped in a sweet, cinnamon-scented embrace.

There’s a heavy amount of childish memorabilia, like crayon drawings hung up on his stainless steel fridge, miscellaneous toys littering the floor, and a pair of tiny shoes resting next to your own. They look comically small, glittery and pink and utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a six year old girl. Especially in comparison to the sleek, black sneakers Shouta slips off next to them. Utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a forty-one year old man.

Aizawa makes his way through the living room while you marvel in astonishment, taking in the sights of his house. Surprisingly, despite his not-so-settle display of wealth, his home is the opposite. It’s the real thing, with lived-in floors and comfy furniture..lively and bright. Sure, his sofa is a muted gray, but the portraits and polaroids and children’s drawings make up for it.

You follow along, nearly tripping over some misplaced barbies and action figures as you quickly remove your shoes and stumble forward. Like a newborn fawn, unfamiliar to its own legs, you walk forward with a bashful smile.

It was almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some strong-willed work-machine designed to finish tasks and take care of children.

But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way sweat trickles down his forehead after a long day of working in a stuffy office, proves otherwise. It was then, you realize, that he is all flesh and bones. Not pen ink or an indestructible force.

“Eri’s… picky. Try exposing her to different foods every now and then, there’s a list of recipes she likes on the fridge.”

Shouta’s leaning against the marble of his open-island kitchen, socked feet melting into the cold tile. You half-expected his socks to be just as dark as his clothes, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see cartoonish cat faces littering the fabric.

Right—anyway. You nod, though it’s mainly reserved for yourself, as your eyes rake up the words stuck to his fridge. Freshly printed out, not an inch out of place, you wonder how many times he’s done this. The gears turn in your head, clicking and grinding until your lips part, a breathless expression keyed into your facial features. Wait.

“Does that mean—”

“I’ll text you the extra details. Eri’s bedroom is upstairs, but you should wait for her to show it to you when she’s ready.”

Your apartment is a flimsy excuse of a home, nowhere near as intricate and thoroughly loved as Shouta’s. Walking inside, you realize just that, there isn’t even a hint of glitter or gleam as you walk through the front door. Even though you have yet to meet her, Eri’s already brightened up your life. Your walls scream with loneliness, the sound bouncing off each corner until you’re tucking yourself into bed and curling up beneath the sheets.

And though you barely know him, you can’t help but want to follow the childish urge to open up the website you found Aizawa’s listing on to study his headshot.

Eri, you’ve come to learn, is a very smart kid. Perhaps too smart for her own good, too observant, and way too excited to express said observations. You sit taut on the gray sofa, leaning over a sheet of paper as you carefully color between the lines of the thick, inky, coloringbook outline. But Eri’s got her own leaflet, vigorously coloring something she has yet to allow you to look at.

You haven’t known her long enough for the leaves to brown, to fall off and make room for winter. You haven’t known her long enough to see the leaves return, the chilly air slowly descending into something softer, quieter. Warmer with summer’s welcome. But she grew to accept you rather quickly.

It started soon after your first meeting with Aizawa, and to your dismay, you hadn’t really seen much of him after that. Only small traces and fragments, like the religious filling of Present Meow’s food bowl or notes tacked onto the fridge.

Admittedly, you kinda miss him.

You’ve become quite engrossed in Eri’s choice in television, watching the cartoon with just as much excitement as the six your old. It even makes you laugh, hearty and dinkum.

“How do you feel about niku-dofu for dinner tonight, Er-bear?” She barely moves, her tongue held between the corner of her lips as she furrows her brows in concentration. Whatever she’s coloring is much more important than dinner, apparently.

With outstretched limbs, you stand, reaching for the sky as a yawn is pulled from your chest and your eyes grow heavy. Being dragged along by a six year old all day is exhausting. The hairstyling, the nail-painting, the hero-pretending…the dolls.

(Eri quite enjoyed acting out soap-opera levels of dramatic scenes with dolls. And, of course, you could only be the man in these scenarios.)

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve grown attached in the span of a few weeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes then!” You chirp, setting down your finished page with a sense of pride. Might even have to add a signature to it!

With Eri’s toys scattered along the floor, despite your constant advisory to clean them up, walking through the house has become quite the challenge. An obstacle course of sorts that Aizawa must’ve been a master at getting through.

Aizawa… With dark circles that cast shadows down his mature face. With stubble that’s cleanly shaved, not a single hair out of place.

Aizawa…With his long, dark hair that frames his face with thick bundles.

Aizawa… Who almost constantly looks disgruntled, faintly pink lips pulled into a tight line.

Him and his signature crisp, black button up that barely fights against his large chest and his matching pants that cling to his stupidly strong thighs.

It makes your brain a little fuzzy, the thought of his equally large biceps bulging in his shirt as he crosses his arms and stares down at you through the bridge of his nose. And his eyes— piercing and domineering staring straight into yours, lips curled as he berates you like some sort of misbehaving child.

(Which you’d spent a lot of time arguing with him about through sticky-notes…The fridge is powered evidence, covered in neon paper as you remind him you’re ‘not a kid!’ beneath his ‘not bad, kid’ post-it note.)

“Hey? Are you okay?” Eri’s small voice snaps you out of your haze, wide and virtuous red eyes blinking up at you. Clutching her drawing to her chest, she shifts her weight between each leg. Her small smile is gone, so you do your best to conjure up a frolicsome grin.

“Never felt better! Finally ready to show me what you’re working on?”

“Mhm,” She hums, reminiscent of her father.

Eri’s picture is nothing short of sweet. Advanced for her age, she’s drawn three figures that resemble the three of you— herself, Aizawa, you— sitting happily at the generously furnished dining table. On her lap sits Present Meow, a black ball of crayon-esque fur, who has small, wobbly hearts above his head. You all do, actually, some bigger than others (e.i: you quite literally have heart eyes that take up more than half your crayon face), but big nonetheless.

Is your crush on her father really that obvious?

“Oh, Eri, that’s—”

The front door trembles, the doorknob clicking and jingling as it welcomes silver keys. Before your eyes, Shouta’s welcoming himself in, strong right arm pushing the door open. His shoulders are draped in exhaustion, his gray scarf tangled around his neck as he shuts the door behind him.

Embarrassment wells up in your stomach, overflowing until you’re hiding Eri’s drawing behind your back. He doesn’t typically come home this early. Usually within the late hours of the night, into early morning, he can be seen rummaging through the fridge for a drink until he heads upstairs, straight to bed.

Instead, he’s stalking forward.

Did his steps always shake the house like this, or are you just imagining it? You must be, it must be your heart in your ears, because your face is flooding with warmth as he towers over you and peeks over your shoulder.

“What’s behind your back?” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, faintly smelling of cigarette smoke.

“What? Noth—”

“Look!” Eri snatches the drawing from your clammy hands and pushes it into Shouta’s abdomen. He hunches over, just slightly, before taking in the image.

“Jesus, kid,” He clicks his tongue with a tenderhearted sigh, looping his thumb around the waistband of his black slacks. “You’re somethin’ else...”

You’d have thought it was meant for Eri if his gaze didn’t flicker up to meet yours.

Dinner rolled around fast, and you’d found yourself nicking your finger on one of Shouta’s large, sharpened knives. Cutting up a small portion of potatoes shouldn’t have been so trivial, a pained gasp escaped your lips as you pinched the tiny wound. You wince, instinctively sucking on the skin of your mangled finger.

“I told you to be careful,” He took your hand in his, swallowing it whole with his palms, and went as far as to berate you, grumbling, “Watch yourself. Are you okay?”

Breathless as you watched him open a nearby drawer, he pulled out a kiddie bandaid, decorated with polka dots and even more cats. You held still, letting him wrap the bandage around your finger nice and tight. And then, only then, did he place a small kiss on top.

“There you go, all better.” It’s a passing comment, only pried from his lips because he was so used to saying it to Eri, and he didn’t seem to realize just how flustered it made you. So you coughed into your hand, secretly hoping the warmth permeating off his body would return to your skin.

Now, with dinner finished, Eri has no problem shoveling the food into her mouth. Must've been all the running around, gave her an appetite fit for a grown woman. It’s not like you have room to talk, you’ve almost choked on your side of miso soup a whopping three times. Shouta seems to be the only composed person at the table.

“You got a little,” Shouta points to the corner of his mouth, waving his willowy finger in a quick, circular motion. “Right…there.”

“Hm?” He watches your face contort, timid and self conscious. He can’t help but smile, just a small upward quirk to the corner of his lips, that slowly disappears as he leans in to wipe off a few grains of rice from the side of your mouth.

There he goes again, acting all domestic, as he raises the same finger to his own mouth. Your pupils blow wide, heat forming in your stomach as he sucks off the rice with disregard for how this might look to anyone besides a father.

Your eyes flicker to Eri, who’s too busy fighting off sleep with the handle of her silver spoon, her tiny head jerking and bobbing every so often, to notice the display.

“I guess—- guess it’s time for bed!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly loud as you stand, quick to stop in your tracks when Aizawa follows suit.

“I got it.”

Aizawa, you’ve learned, says that quite a lot. Despite his generous hourly pay and your obligation to take care of his child, he insists it’s best if he cleans after her. Too intimidated to argue, you simply nod, falling back onto his couch as he ventures back for forth— upstairs and back.

Each time he returns, he notices the droop in your eyes, the way they slowly fall with each step he takes. It’s late, he should be escorting you home, but he doesn’t want to disturb your well-earned sleep session.

As he sits to finally take a break, letting his joins snap and pop, you fall face-first into his shoulder, smashing your cheek against the firm skin.

Your lips pucker, pouty and almost fish-like. Your boyish face, soft and not yet worn down by the tiresome nature of time in itself, looks undeniably cute. Perfect for kissing and irrevocably inviting. Your eyes are shut, lashes resting against your cheeks. Time stops, minutes passing within hours, as Shouta takes in your essence and stares down at your innocent face. Stealing a kiss would just be… so…easy…

“Fix your face,” He says instead, clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the dimly lit, yellow-tinted lamp resting on the end table placed by his half of the sofa. “Or it’ll get stuck like that.”

“M’sorry.” You whisper, bashful as ever despite the slippery hands of sleep reaching back for you. Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?

It makes Aizawa want to retract his statement, press his thumb into the unobtrusive crease forming between your pretty eyebrows. But it leaves before it has time to arrive— to settle, as your body relaxes once more. He observes for a moment, the dip of the couch as you finally sink your weight into it, the debt collectors contracted with sleep finally having caught up with you.

Preserving himself through all these years, none being particularly good to him, he wonders if you’ve faced any similar endeavors. He’d hate to leave you alone, cold and barren as another side of his bed remains despicably untouched, only the ghost of what could have been keeping him company during this sleep-centric night. Your breaths are slow and steady, lips briefly parting to mumble something he can’t quite grasp. Shouta tries anyway, tucking his stubbly chin against his collarbone as he leans forward.

His face is dangerously close, a mere inch separating the gap between his lips and soft, supple skin. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder—broad and wide—your words dispel into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Alongside a fine layer of drool, something he's all too used to, that slowly spreads the deeper you fall into undisturbed sleep. A heavy sleeper then, he presumes.

Shouta keeps you close, pressing your body against his as he loops his other arm behind your legs and hoists you up. He’s careful to avoid any furniture, holding you with an iron grip as he steps up the creaky stairs. His hair bounces with each step, curly and dark, flowing down his back and streaked with gray.

“..Zawa…” Nearly dropping you, his mismatched gaze locks onto your face. Blissed out and camouflaged with slumber, you stir in his arms. “Kiss me ‘lready.”

Aizawa clears his throat, neck constricting as it tightens around the air. It’s fine, just a baseless comment, he decides, as he slowly opens his bedroom door, careful of the noise. You don’t seem to move after that, dozing in his arms until he’s setting you down into his bed. He really hopes you don’t mind it— he doesn’t have a guest bedroom, after all.

It’s dark in his room, blackout curtains covering any sliver of radiance from outside streetlights. So he flicks on the lamp on his bedside table, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as he lifts his arms overhead to remove his shirt. Something cold prods at his back, and before he can shed the clothing, Shouta redirects himself to look back at you.

Half asleep, your foot creeps under the comfortable fabric of his shirt. You must’ve discarded your socks in your sleep, because you’re rubbing your eyes with balled up fists as if you’d just woken up. Doesn’t stop you from speaking, vocal cords strained, “S’this the part where we cuddle?”

Aizawa watches you shimmy out of your pants, obviously groggy and irrational from having just opened your eyes, your warm skin slowly being exposed inch by inch. You must overheat in your sleep.

“No, it’s not,” He groans out, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he takes in the mural being painted in front of him. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble, much more awake as your eyes hone in on the skin of his back that he’s partially exposing. “And I’m not a kid.”

“Sound like one.” You hear him grovel under his breath, almost as if you were meant to hear it. Aizawa has quite the ability to be silent when he wants to, he can creep up on you without you ever noticing. So you suck your teeth, sitting up in his bed.

He expects you to respond with something witty, something he has to pretend he doesn’t find funny. But you don’t, instead staying uncharacteristically silent. Had it not been the dip in his mattress, he would have assumed you dissolved into thin air.

God, how you hope he won’t find you childish for this.

“Sir, I,” Shouta stiffens, his hair falling from behind his ear as he turns to fully face you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you..” He trails off, watching your bottom lip jut out. Plump and shiny, Aizawa resists the urge to sink his teeth into it. How soft would they feel? Would you cry into his mouth if he bit too hard? Anything in his hands becomes fragile, and he wants to know how far you can bend before you break. “Can you kiss me?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your ankle with his rough hands to drag you down into him. Your pretty eyes widen, large and unsuspecting as he crashes his lips against yours, feverish and desperate.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip and eagerly awaits yours, tasting faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon. Undeniably Shouta, you can’t help but whimper into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his disheveled hair. His mouth is warm and wet— almost searing hot, and you can’t help but choke on your own breaths. You sink into the kiss, floaty and dumbstruck by his urgency.

Like a starved man, he pushes you down on your back and tangles his big hands in the waistline of your boxers, tugging the elastic apart until it rips with a ‘snap!’. You’re exposed, legs instinctively closing to shield your half naked body.

“Aht-aht. Sit still,” Aizawa hand quickly latches around the base of your dick, sending shocks of electricity up your smaller (in comparison to his) body. You tug on his wrist, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stares down at you, predatory and famished. “When’s the last time you played with this pretty cock? Did you think of me?”

He doesn’t give you time to speak, instead spitting down onto your cock with a thick, shiny glob of spit. You can’t help but moan, watching it slide down and heat up through his fingers. His hand envelops you entirely, big and warm and squelching as he accentuates his words with particularly sharp pumps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice sounds condescending and feignedly sweet, you swear you could cum just from hearing it. “S’been a while, huh? Yeah? S’why you’re leaking all over my hand?”

You feel yourself nod, quick and enthusiastic as you melt into his palm. Your legs turn into jello, numb against his warm sheets, as your toes curl and your back slowly inches off the mattress. Shouta’s eyes are lidded and heavy, drinking you in and burning you from the inside out. You keen, pulsating in his hand until the warmth is suddenly gone, and you’re blinking away frustrated tears.

“No—!”

“Greedy brat,” Shouta’s quick to shut you up, large hands sinking into the plush skin of your thighs as he spreads your legs open impossibly wide. “Fuck, got a greedy hole on you too.”

Your hole clenches in response, eager to have his attention. You can feel a trail of precum and spit soaking the area, warm and wet, not yet reminiscent of his cum. Soon enough, you hope, he’ll be filling you to the brim and then some. Your hands, somehow forgotten, scramble to unbutton his dress shirt.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you gasp in retaliation to his big hand clutching your jaw with indescribable force and pressure. Trying to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your lips part, tongue pushed free from your squished cheeks as you blink up at him, eyes dancing between one milky-white iris and another, only chocolate brown.

“Go on, say it. Tell Daddy you’re a greedy boy with a greedy little hole,” He’s spitting into your mouth, a thin trail of saliva indirectly connecting his tongue to yours. “You can do it, sugar.”

Oh. Oxygen disconnects from your lungs, dumbly blinking up at him with a garbled moan. You can’t speak if you wanted to, not with his hand around your jaw like this, so you settle for swallowing down his spit with a feeble smile. All you can push out is a mangled ‘Daddy!’ but Aizawa seems to take that for an answer, groaning as he hikes your knees up to your chest, sighing when you squeal in response.

His big, warm body is pressed up against yours, much bigger and stronger, and it’s apparent in every movement he makes. He’s able to push you around, flip you over and push you down with barely a finger, and you’re sure his hand can cover the entirety of your face. You moan, wanton and sweet in his ears as he maneuvers your arms to keep your legs up.

“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shouta— Daddy sighs, hunched over and breathing dangerously close to your entrance. Almost like he’s talking to your hole instead of you, and you’d protest if it weren’t for the hot, wet stripe he’d just licked down from your perineum to your hole. Your body feels warm and tingly, legs twitching as his tongue prods and pokes deeper and deeper, slowly slipping inside. “Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”

He’s sure to make it messy, adding generous amounts of drool and spit along your sensitive hole, eating you out like he gets paid to do it. He makes you lay there and take it, holding your legs open like some cheap whore, settling between your thighs with feverish and hungry kisses. Making out with your hole, you watch with heavy eyes and a gaped mouth.

“Yeah, yeah..” You moan subconsciously, a constant stream leaving your pretty, parted lips. He takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with his fingers, long and scarred as his fingertips run along your pink tongue. His fingers taste vaguely of salt, and you can’t help but suck on them, eyes fluttering in content.

You barely catch it, a small kiss being placed on the curve of your jaw until he’s freeing his fingers from your mouth. He resists the urge to shove them down your throat, watch your eyes get glassy and wet as you gag on his fingers like you would his cock.

“Gotta get this cunt nice n’ ready. Watch me eat you out, boy,” His voice has dropped several octaves—if that’s even possible—thick and heavy and reverberating straight into your hole. It’s like he knows you by heart, even if this is your first time together, because he’s slotting his thick, scarred fingers in along with his tongue. “Such a pretty hole. Matches your face.”

Through the haze you’re still able to mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” timid, small, and broken up between moans.

“Good boy, still remembering your manners,” He sounds just as breathless as you, pressing his fingertips against the special spot inside of you. Your body jolts, a shriek ripping from your throat as he puts pressure on it, bullies it with his fingers, and follows suit with his tongue. Too much. “Shh, I know. Try to stay quiet for me.”

For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold. For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold.

You want to be good, be the best boy you can be, but you just can’t help it. The complete opposite of what he’s told you to do, high off his fingers as your body clenches and your moans grow louder and louder, fingernails digging into the soft surface of the back of your knees. He just presses and presses and—

Stops. Abrupt and fleeting until his hand is back, but instead in the form of a harsh slap right across the back of your thighs. Your sit spots.

“Wh- mm-mm…! Waitwait..Daddy—!” You’re stunned, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you fail to recollect what just happened. You press your face into your knees, bunched up tight as tears spring in your eyes. “That hu—urts.”

The pout in your voice is evident, and Shouta can’t help but coo. Especially when your cock, lodged right between the thickness of your thighs, jumps and leaks more precum. His own throbs in his pants, leaking into his underwear and leaving him sticky. God, he can’t wait to feel your hole twitch around his dick.

“You’re a big boy. I know you can take it, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” And there it is again, the fog that casts over your brain as you can only think of being good. Good for Shouta. Good for your Daddy.

There’s a sharp smack right on top of your little hole, the entrance winking back in retaliation as you sob into your knees. The pain doesn’t last long, simmers down and is easily replaced by heat when his fingers rub soothing circles around your rim.

“Daddy,” Your voice comes out much sweeter and wet, letting out a small sniffle as you peek out to watch him place open-mouthed kisses against your hole. “Want you.”

“You have me, boy,” His heart melts, and a soft smile creeps up on his handsome face. His tie dangles as he shifts his weight, opening his bedside drawer to pull out a condom and cherry flavored lube. Ironic. “Now let me in, wanna make your pretty fuckhole cream around my cock.”

“Wait,” You rasp, watching him tear open the packaging with his teeth. You’re still breathless and shaky, but you’re trying your best. “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you inside me.”

Aizawa’s deep groans are music to your ears, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull when he frees himself of his shirt and sheds his pants. His dickprint is big and thick, throbbing in the fabric and sticky with fresh precum. You want to taste it. His cock springs free as his briefs drop to the floor, slapping against his abdomen and weeping.

You watch him fuck his fist, pouring the slick lube down his cock and warming it up with his palm.

“Yeah? You want it? Gonna listen to Daddy so he can put his thick cock in that sloppy little hole? C’mere before I shoot into my fist.”

You nod so hard it hurts, squeezing your shaft to stop yourself from cumming to his words alone. Your cock twitches in your hand, hard and wet as Shouta walks forward to meet you at the edge of the bed and scoops you up into his arms like you’re weightless. It must be easy for him, seeing as he’s so much bigger than you in every way.

“Won’t fit—”

“Shh,” Like he knows what you’re going to say before you can utter it, Shouta lifts you into the air with ease, and you can feel his cock pressing against your puckered hole. “We’ll make it fit.”

Your back presses against his chest, upright as he loops his arms around the backs of your knees. You’re spread wide, and with Shouta’s strong grip, all you can do is sit there and take it. You can feel him twitch and throb from the inside-out, his cock gushing pre as you sink down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, wanton moans and a chant of ‘DaddyDaddyDaddy’ filling the air as snaps his hips, barely letting you adjust.

His dick is stretching you open, thick and long, and pulsing and veiny as you feel it bulge in your tummy, pushing past your rim and filling you up.

“Thought about this for weeks,” Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you’re too far gone to answer. “I—yeah, should’ve fucked you in that café.”

From the… Start?

Heat pools on your stomach, his cock punching your insides and kissing each sensitive ridge with every movement he makes. Your moans are unintelligible, barely even coherent, as he fucks into you, lifting you off his cock again, and again, and again. Cock-drunk while his dick rearranges your guts, drool slips from your mouth and down your chest.

You look pathetic and ruined.

“So cute like this, pretty baby. You make the dumbest little faces when you’re fucked stupid on Daddy’s cock, but still so damn cute.”

His cock drags in and out of your plushy walls, precum and lube making a creamy concoction along his shaft with each thrust. Your face is stained with tears and drool, mouth open wide as you pant and whine.

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hole beating around his cock as Aizawa moans, and you feel your body go numb as you shudder and convulse. You’re cumming, and your smaller hands squeeze his big ones as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing off his lap with tiny, “Mm, mm, mm’s.” Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel warmth flooding your stomach, your balls tightening by the second.

“Da—addy please, m’cummin’, m’cummin’!”

“There you go, smart little boy,” Shouta groans loud in your ear, twitching in your tummy when you clamp down on his dick. He wants to fuck his cum into you, you deserve it. You deserve his cock, you deserve his load, you deserve to be stuffed full until you’ve milked his dick for all he’s got— all it’s worth. “Just keep bouncin’, so fuckin good at it, gush on my cock. What d’you say, baby? What d’you say to Daddy?”

You wish you could see him, the grit of his teeth as his thrusts turn sloppy and messy. But you know he can see you, staring down at the cum painting your chest as it squirts out your cock in thick, rapid ropes. Mixing with your tears and drool, you know you look like sex on legs, eyes void of everything but the need for cock.

“Thankyouthankyouthank—fu-huck,” His cock is jackhammering so deep you can barely breathe. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“Gonna make you just like Daddy, gonna make you one too,” It must send him over the edge, the sounds of your hole squelching as he scrambles your insides, because he’s quick to shoot a creamy, hot load of cum straight inside you. “Wanna be a big boy so bad? Then—fuuuck— take it like one.”

He gives a few last slow, deep thrusts inside so his cum really takes, carefully freeing your legs as you collapse onto him with a breathy moan.

“‘Zawa…”

“C’mere, brat,” You’re quick to whine, weakly pressing your face into the expanse of his large chest, all tears and snot and cum as he cradles your head between his large hand and his even larger chest. You feel protected in his arms, shrinking even smaller into his lap as your eyes slip closed and his cum leaks down your thighs. “You’re a good boy. My good boy.”

Shouta’s hand is ablaze when he brushes it along your forehead, soon after replacing it with a gentle kiss. He means it.

“Let Daddy take care of you.”