Zoros Dare | (Roronoa Zoro X Male Reader)

Zoro’s Dare | (Roronoa Zoro x Male Reader)

You and Zoro are walking through the streets of Wano Country, exploring the sights and sounds of the vibrant marketplace. As you walk, you look over at Zoro with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Y/n: "Hey, Zoro. I dare you to not wear underwear under your kimono today."

Zoro raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that you love to push his buttons.

Zoro: "What? No way, y/n. I'm not gonna go around like that in public."

Y/n: "Oh come on, Zoro. Live a little. It'll be fun. Plus, you know you can't resist a challenge."

Zoro grumbles, but deep down he knows you are right. He loves a good challenge, and he's never been one to back down from a dare.

Zoro: "Fine. I'll do it. But if anyone finds out, it's on you."

You grin, knowing that you’ve won this round.

They continue to wander through the marketplace, taking in the sights and sounds. As you’re walking, you’re suddenly attacked by a group of Kaido’s minions.

Zoro immediately springs into action, unsheathing his swords and taking on the attackers. As he's fighting, he suddenly feels a gust of wind hit him in just the right spot, causing his kimono to fly open and exposing his bare backside to the world.

You can't help but burst out laughing as you watch the scene unfold.

Y/n: "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Looks like someone's not wearing any underwear today."

Zoro scowls, embarrassed by the situation.

Zoro: "Shut up, y/n. You're enjoying this too much."

Y/n: "Hey, I can't help it if you have a nice butt. But don't worry, I'll protect your modesty."

You step in front of Zoro, shielding him from view with your water barrier as he continues to fight off the bandits. Zoro can't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude towards you, even as he tries to brush off your teasing.

As you continue through the day, you can't resist the urge to tease Zoro about his lack of underwear, even going so far as to sneak in a few playful caresses on his bare ass.

Zoro tries to banter back, but secretly he's enjoying the attention. He never thought he'd be the type to go without underwear, but there's something freeing about it. And the way you look at him...well, that's a feeling he can't deny.

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE — eren jeager x male reader

w.c: ~4.2k

WARNING: dirty talk (a lot of it), degradation, dumbification, camboy!reader, twitch streamer!eren, nerd!eren, parasocial relationships, crossdressing(? reader wears bikini lingerie), amab reader, use of the words ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ as synonyms for (ass)hole, fingering, phone/cyber sex, praise, butt plugs, dildos, mutual masturbation

“Fuck,” Eren’s voice crackles loud in your headphones, staticky and grainy as you wriggle the wire until his voice is clear again. It pops in your ears, but you don’t mind, because the next thing you hear is the melodical chime of Eren’s maniacal laughter. He’s streaming a playthrough, about three hours in, and stuck on a certain mission. You can’t help it, his voice is smooth and comforting, like a blanket fresh out the dryer… Even as he yells. It’s easy to imagine how he sounds above you, glasses discarded and his silver chain dangling over your face as you blink away tears. “Fuck! Fuck you! I had it!”

His eyes are a striking type of blue-green; set ablaze by his PC screen and sparkling with shades that remain nameless to this day. His glossy, rosy, lips curl into a frustrated sneer.

It’s not your fault, you ration, failing to wipe away the lewd thoughts somersaulting in your brain. It’s not your fault, the tightening of your pants as you wriggle in bed, laptop illuminating in the dark room. It’s not your fault, the twitch of your dick when Eren’s grainy lips let out an unimpressed grunt. It’s not your fault, the way you’re quick to squeeze the base of your cock in an attempt to satiate the need bubbling in your stomach.

There’s just something different about Eren, something that makes your body tingly and needy.

Okay, maybe it’s your fault.

You inhale sharply, fisting the soft material of your blankets until you glance at the time, digital numbers ticking in the right-hand corner of your laptop screen. Fuck was right, you had your own stream to do and you were running late, too busy focused on the pretty boy reading his chat messages. Heat prickles your neck, the realization of your erection standing strong and determined at mention of the man. You quickly rip the headphones free from your ears, ready to close the tab with an exasperated sigh. At least you didn’t have to pretend to be riled up.

Before you leave, though, you donate a generous amount, giggling to yourself when the streamer pauses to read it aloud, thanking you for the money.

Truthfully, being a camboy was hard work. You had to pick out cute outfits, keep up a cheery voice to satisfy whoever was watching, and… think of something to get you going on the spot. There’s only one thing— one man — occupying your state of mind, making your stomach drop and fill with rocks during normal, mundane tasks.

That stupid, stupid streamer. He’s ruining your career!

Him and his brown tufts of hair that swirl around his head like a makeshift halo, messy and unkempt as if he’d just rolled out of bed to interact with his viewers. His hair that melts like chocolate, warm as it cascades down his cheeks and rests just above his shoulders.

You wish you could see him up close, study the curve of his lips as they pull into a mischievous smirk, watch the way his emerald irises turn into bottomless pools of rich, deep sacramento. With gangly limbs and unruly hair, fingers tousled between chestnut bundles as he groans in reaction to your terrible joke, responding with the energy only an animation could portray.

You wonder what he’s like at home, just as Eren. The nerd, the nobody, the offline ‘soulmate’ to many— his chat was living, breathing evidence. Is he just as funny? Does his voice crack when he speaks, or does he make that up too? You stare into your reflection, pulling at the skin of your cheeks in an attempt to free yourself from his digital grasp. The distorted image of Eren stares back at you, castleton eyes wide and prominent, twinkling at you like he wants to reel you in. You try to ignore it, the tugging feeling in your chest that mocks you endlessly. At the end of the day, you’re just a fan.

Shit, you’re late.

You can’t help but pout, jutting out your bottom lip, shiny and plump as you rearrange your tripod in the direction of your bed. Flopping back onto the pillowy mattress with a quiet ‘humph!’, you shimmy out of your clothes to retrieve new, cuter ones, settling for striped (blue and white) panties that were much too small for practicality and a thinly veiled, matching bikini.

The straps are silky against your skin, hugging your shoulders until the fabric dips between the middle of your chest, divided and exposed, with a cute, white bow barely bigger than the pad of your thumb to hold it together.

You look pretty. Angelic, even.

‘AngelzConnect: bunnyboo is live..! Tap in 2 spread ur wingz!’

Eren squints his eyes, vision darting to the notification on his phone. He’s almost four hours into his own stream, and honestly… He could use some time to himself. His skin ends up flushed, a blotchy shade of pink that clashes with the rest of his face.

“Look, guys,” He starts, tired fingers already maneuvering his mouse to click the “end livestream” button. His tone falls flat, thick with fatigue as chat flies by, understanding the tone almost instantly. “It’s getting late… I gotta go!”

“Hi, guys!”

You wave to the camera, apples of your cheeks fattening as you smile, bright and warm. Enough to supply an entire solar system. Your boyish face relaxes, softening as you lean forward to read the influx of messages sprinting across the screen of your old laptop. The catchlights make your eyes look wobbly, bright and doe-eyed as you respond to a few questions, readjusting your spot in bed out of a nervous habit.

You look so sweet in your revealing outfit, arms flexing as you make hand gestures while you speak. Eren wonders how you keep your hands so soft, clearly flawless and callous-free.

With his PC screen large and high quality, he can take in your every detail. An excited tremor racks Eren’s body, forcing blood flow straight to his groin. The upward angle makes shadows meet to frame you perfectly, a realistic display of standing above someone while they sit at your knees. The curve of your face, the slope of Adam's apple, the dips and bends of your silhouette as you shuffle in bed, shy.

He can see an array of pillows behind you, soft and plush as they’re propped up against your headboard. You also have an arrangement of toys places biggest to smallest, beside you. They’re just as cute as you, decorated and sparkly in the camera. His heart stutters in his chest, loud in his ears as he audibly gulps.

“How was your day?” You speak like it’s natural, as if you’re talking to every viewer personally. Like you genuinely mean it. Like you’re talking to Eren himself. He sighs, heavy and hot as he shuffles to pull his cock out the confines of his black sweatpants.

Your thumbs loop around the white spaghetti straps of the bikini until the fabric stretches and snaps, landing against the soft skin of your chest. Your whine is breathy, barely audible as you push yourself back, sure to get the rest of your body in frame. You can’t exactly imagine how you look right now, spreading your thighs as you sit on your knees, staring into a camera with pleading eyes. But you feel good about it, fluttering your lashes as your computer chimes with donations.

You’ve hit your first goal, which earns an excitable laugh that Eren can’t help but coo at. Your eyes curve and crinkle, a sweet smile that’s all teeth and glossy lips. He watches you reach for the glass dildo beside you, moderately sized and gleaming under the soft ring-light that traces your body off camera.

He watches you trace its edges with your fingertips, pretty eyes scanning the chat as users tell you (in great detail) what they’d like you to do with it. Call him parasocial if you must, but it makes Eren’s blood boil. His fit doesn’t last long, because the next thing he knows, you’re suckling on the glass, pink tongue circling what would be the head of a cock had it not been fake.

Eren doesn’t miss a beat, spitting a thick glob of spit into his palm to start at his head, inching his hand further and further down until he’s palming his balls. He’d like to imagine the dildo is his dick, thick and veiny as he pushes it into the aching insides of your throat, feeling it contract and convulsive around him. Oh, fuck.

“In n’ outta that fuckin’ throat… let me use it…” He groans, just a low whisper to himself as he watches your eyes glaze over with tears. “Fuuuck, let me use it while you sit there n’ take it for me.”

You sputter around it, loud and pathetic as your eyebrows knit together. It’s obvious you’re trying to deepthroat it first try, your tongue rolled out of your mouth as drool slides down your chin and into your lap. Your skin is slick and wet, shining in the camera.

“Damn,” Eren gasps, the sound caught and strangled in his throat as he spits down on his cock again, imagining it as your drool. There’s something charming about it, the way you gag and choke, just to blink harshly and try all over again. “Bet you crave it.”

“Gonna be my good boy..?” Eyes glued to the screen, Eren watches you turn to the side, showing off just how deep you can take the makeshift dick. It bulges in your throat, the pretty area stretched out and swollen with the more cock it takes. Your eyes flutter shut, handsome face relaxing as you concentrate on burying it to the hilt, back arched. “Knew you could do it. Mmh, good b—oy.”

He sighs, shaky and tilting into a desperate whine. His heart is stuck in his ears, beating loud as he pumps his cock with more vigor, pressing his thumb into the underside of the pink head, massaging the beading precum into his shaft.

You’ve moved to expose your lower half, slowly inching the striped underwear until you’ve exposed your winking hole to the camera, pretty cock dangling just below frame. Even after all this streaming, you still never got ahold of the framework. Cute. But you’re not empty, whining as you press a cute, bunny-tailed, glass plug into your hole, whimpering loud enough to have Eren’s cock leaping.

His climax is approaching embarrassingly fast, but Eren feels the urge to hold on gripping the base of his cock so he can direct his attention to the ‘donate’ button. He wants to save his cum for you, keep himself pent up so he’ll have plenty to shoot deep inside you.

Your dick weeps, a thin trail of precum connecting itself to the panties around your thighs, and the bashful look you gift to the camera has Eren re-entering his credit card information ten times over.

“Oh my God!” You shriek, voice shrill and surprised as you stumble over your own limbs, tears and drool still running down your face. “Holy… Thank you! Wait, hold on—”

There’s visible embarrassment on your face, eyes wide and mannerisms frantic as you click around, apologizing under your breath. You can barely read the chat, viewers either complaining about being unable to top the donation or claiming it’s a scam.

“Is this.. Are you real, jeagerbomb?” Your eyes scan the donation over and over, pretty and still hazy from your earlier display. The username ticks in the back of your head like a clock, continuous and gnawing as you try to shake the thought. The thought of Eren— your Eren, watching your streams. “I can’t accept this!”

‘im real.’ Eren types, one handed. It’d be awfully embarrassing if he’d just paid to video chat with you for no reason— your acknowledgment almost has him blowing his load over your pixelated face.

‘and you will.’

Your jaw goes slack, lips forming a wide ‘o’ in response to the question. He’d paid the maximum amount, bought a private session with you. Paid to be your ‘Daddy’ for the night.

You’re much more shy one-on-one. It’s the first thing Eren notices. Your demeanor has completely changed, a little less confident and saccharine, much more shy and hesitant. Still, you look like the perfect pornstar, the cutest display of a boy who’d be plastered under a sketchy hentai site. He supposes your coyness adds to it, your shaky hands nervously playing with the strap of your underwear.

Stained with a wet patch of precum that has yet to dry, and he watches you cuddle a pillow, big and distorted as you hug it to your chest. You’re shifting your weight, sinking into the mattress and looking a lot more vulnerable than he expected. Still, you nervously laugh, a small giggle of a thing that has Eren’s lungs filling with water.

Before you’d started to chat, Eren made sure to fix his hair and straighten out his sorry excuse of facial hair. He’d even kept his contacts in, hair tied back so none of his hair could obstruct his vision. He wants to burn

“Hi, jeagerbomb,” Hearing it come from your lips never gets old, and Eren finds himself once again squeezing the base of his cock. He’s glad you have yet to see below his belt, your eyes squinting into crescents as you take in his familiar background and steady the curve of his lips. His camera cuts just above his top lip, but you can still see the memorabilia in his room. Dedicated to Marvel comics and anime characters, it’s charming, a shelf holding up figurines from some of your fondest videogames. “Is there something else I should… Call you? Or.. Or is Daddy okay?”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach. He reminds you so much of Eren, and the username certainly isn’t helping.

His frame looks comforting, a large t-shirt draping his body as he lifts his hips, careful not to expose himself. As he lifts himself up with his forearms you notice the veins in his arms, snaking up his wrists and disappearing into his large, skinny hands. He has a few tattoos littered across his knuckles, a cursive ‘Carla’ cascading up his ring-finger. Just below the area that disappears beneath the shadow of his dark t-shirt’s sleeve, there’s a bird tattoo, flapping its wings oddly and fitting for the stranger. Funny, your favorite streamer has that, too.

Wait. . .

“Eren,” He breathes, and your world crumbles. “I’m Eren.”

His voice tilts, breathy and hitched. You’ve dreamed of moments like this, of hearing his voice in your ears while he spreads your legs, sinking deep inside your velvety walls with the click of his hips. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“Eren,” You purr, sweet and gentle as you smile at him through the camera. “Thank you for the donation, Eren.”

It’s only a matter of time before lust catches up to you, grabbing you by the throat as you watch Eren’s pretty hands in motion. Every noise he makes is audible, the small pants and sighs when you say his name, the ruffle of fabric when he has to grip his cock to stop himself from cumming early. It was innocent at first, a sweet talk that had the two of you bouncing back witty quips and flirtatious glances.

There’s a bite to your lip, heat flaring in your tummy as you open the chat box.

‘You look pretty.’ Was he too nervous to say it aloud?

“Thank you!” Your grin spreads, body lighting up from the praise.

“My bad, I’ve never…” His mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, as he scrambles to rearrange his words. He is not a pent up virgin. You’re so used to hearing him yell, his natural speaking voice sounds much more relaxed.

“I’ve never done this before. I jerk off to you all the time, just never, you know… With you.”

You nod, clear as day on his large screen as you shyly trace stars on the exposed skin of your thigh. Eren looks like he regrets telling you that, hands curled up into fists before releasing, again and again. But you can feel the tension, thick and palpable even through computer screens. So you swallow down your nervousness, your fear of embarrassing yourself in front of your favorite streamer, and wave away his stubborn outlook.

“We can guide each other! Mhm?”

“Wanna give you sweet kisses… all around your hole… run my tongue down it…my…warm, fuck, wet tongue…” Guide you, he does, and you can’t take it, a moan flowing from your mouth as your fingers melt into your sopping entrance, lube spilling onto your thighs as you work it inside, slippery and wet. “Bet you taste perfect.”

Eren’s rambling to himself now, legs spread wide and in-frame as he twists his fist around his fat cock and spits down onto it.

“Bet my boy’s hole tastes so fuckin’ good.” He reiterates. Shaking his head, unsteady groans float into the air as he watches you finger yourself, hole opening and closing over the digits like it’s too shy to fully present itself. Your eyes are heavy, legs kicked up into the air as you keep yourself as open as possible, holding onto the back of your knees so Eren can clearly see inside of you.

“Please, mhmm, Rennie...” You whimper, and Eren swears he blacks out. You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging for. It’s the implication because you being his. His boy. His to fuck, his to use, his to hold. So, what is it? His presence? His dick? His hands? His cum? Whatever it is, he wants more. And he wants to give it to you, fast and deep and ruthless.

There’s something about your eyes, the way they stay in contact with Eren’s cock as he gently squeezes his balls and bucks up into the air with increasing desperation.

“Yeah, look up at me while I spit on my cock,” Hes breathless, lowering his face into frame and gathering saliva in his mouth. This spit should be yours.“You like that? Such a good boy for me.. so pretty.”

You nod profusely, though he’s not sure if it’s because you like the nicknames or if you’re answering his question. But it’s good enough for him, watching your head bob eagerly as you fuck yourself on your fingers, lube occasionally squelching and shooting straight into the camera.

“That’s it, pretend like you’re fucking my cock.” His pupils are blown wide, lips parted as he watches you scramble for the dildo beside you, patting your hand against the arrangement of toys until you’ve found the one you like. The glitter is green, this time, and the toy has a slight curve to it. It’s thick, too, and he can’t wait to see it splitting your pretty hole open.

“Re— Rennie, can I.. Want you here.” He watches your fingers slip out, slick and sticky as you spread yourself open. Your gooey hole throbs against your fingertips, achy and needy as you struggle to see past your balls. You press a small tap to your gaping entrance, puffy and empty as you whine and beg for something to fill it back up. “Want you in here.”

“Yeah, pretty boy, you have permission,” He twists your words back to you, punching you right in the gut as your eyes roll back and your brain short circuits. You have his permission. “Get my cock wet for me.”

His cock. You’re quick to nod, squirting more lube onto the toy with something a little more pitiful than grace. A little more desperate. But Eren doesn’t seem to mind, instead lifting the hem of his shirt to pin the fabric down with his chin, dick fully exposed and pulsing on camera. He’s waiting.

“Ohh, ‘Ren,” You mewl, your rim expanding around the glass toy as it slides inside, pushing past the band of your puffy hole and sliding obscenely from the lube. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, wrists working to push it deeper and deeper, aiming for that spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “You’re… inside…”

“Keep takin’ it for me. That’s it, let your brain go empty,” He groans, swiftly reaching to the side to grab a toy for himself. Under different circumstances you’d laugh at the implication of Eren streaming to a huge audience with a fleshlight just beside him and out of frame, but this time it makes you moan. “Don’t have to think, just go dumb on this cock.”

You admit it. It feels better to think with your dick, tears spilling from your eyes as you fuck yourself like a whore, whimpering and moaning around the glass. It should be Eren, warm and wet and real. You should be able to feel him pulsate inside you, burying himself against your prostate until you’re babbling on his dick, holding onto him for dear life while he desperately ruts into you

“Feel how hard I am inside of you? Feels so fuckin’ good, pretty baby. Just hold on.”

You look pathetic, spread open with drool painting your face as you moan on his cock, quickly timing your thrusts with each rapid stroke of your cock, loud and messy and so fucking greedy.

“Pound that hole for me… There you go.. You look so good like this.” Eren can’t wait to shoot his load, watch the thick ropes shoot around his fist and hopefully onto your face, he can’t wait to hear you thank him for his cum. It’s all for you, after all.

You’ve always made the prettiest noises, high in your throat and whiny. Your voice comes out in tiny squeaks, barely comprehensible as you gurgle on your own drool and keep your cheeks spread. Jesus wept, he wished he could hold you open with his own hands.

“Stro— Stroke that cock with that pretty fuckin’ hole.”

Eren can feel himself getting closer, the sight of your eyes rolled back and blank while you fuck yourself into oblivion, helpless and frenzied. You can’t look at him, not when your brain is derailed and hijacked by the thickness of Eren’s dick.

“F—aster? Oh, fuck, go dumb on my cock.” The brunette’s voice cracks, cute and high as he struggles to keep his eyes open, thighs trembling and burning. “Keep moaning for me, keep pounding that pussy, s’all your little whore brain can tell you to do, huh? You got it.”

“Uh huh, uh— Rennie! M’gonna cum, wanna cum on your cock! Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t!”

“Gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel good.” His fist and just as sloppy as your hole, arm tensed up and tight as he cums with a gasp. Thick, milky ropes of cum spurt from his cock, dribbling down the crown and painting itself on his PC screen. “Just keep listening to that cunt, s’telling you to keep pounding, don’t stop.”

“I can’t.” You sniffle, overstimulated and sensitive as the glass cock shifts inside you. Your voice comes out wet and staticky, but despite the shakes of your head, you’re grabbing the toy again, and slowly pushing back in and out.

“I know, baby,” Eren’s voice comes out soft and quiet, barely audible as he tugs his cock tantalizingly slow. You can see him growing softer in his hand, so he must be riding the wave of an afterglow. “Not gonna hurt you, just milk my cock for me.”

It’s weird. You’re fully capable of pulling yourself free from the searing hot grasp of overstimulation, you could easily pull the toy out and end it there. But you feel the desire to please, the need to listen to Eren’s calm voice as he catches his breath.

So you listen, rocking your hips back and forth with tiny moans that clash perfectly with Eren’s labored breaths, until you’re both soft and melting into your collective seats.

“See? So fuckin’ perfect..” Eren grins with a breathless laugh, the clarity of what he’s just done hitting him like a pickup truck. Heavy shades of pink dust his cheeks, pooling at his ears as he averts his intense gaze.

You look cute even like this, fucked out with a head full of cotton as you aimlessly wipe your face with the backs of your hand. Your underwear is haphazardly pulled back up to your hips, and there’s an obvious cum stain on the matching top. You don’t seem to mind all that much, a sleepy murmur erupting from your throat as you try your best to direct your attention to Eren, who you expected to be gone.

“ ‘Ren?” You ask, reverting back to that sweet shyness from earlier. Your handsome face contorts into something of uncertainty, but he’s not sure what you have to be nervous about.

“Yeah?”

“Could we.. Stay ‘nd videochat ‘til my laptop dies?” There’s a beat of silence, no longer than twenty seconds, but it has backtracking apologies ready to spill over.

“Yeah,” There’s a giddy glint in his eyes, bright and familiar— like he’d just received a successful hype-train. That’s the Eren you recognize, all smirks and knowing eyes. “Y’know, I stream sometimes too. We should collab sometime.”

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.

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.”

——

false god

—sub!dainsleif/dom!amab!reader, priest!reader | reader is called ‘father’, throatfucking, cockstepping, first half is plot and then the other is filth.

—and after posting about writing for dain since january, i actually finally finished one for him!

This isn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to the Bough Keeper.

Such a thing was, accidentally teleporting himself to a place he didn’t mean to, partly due to exhaustion and sleepless nights.

It was often like these that the immortality cast upon him mocked him more than anything. 

Droplets of water started to fall onto his hair, then eventually onto his body. He stares into the dark sky, the coldness of the rain bringing more comfort than it does harm.

Dainsleif sighs, and instead of teleporting away to his right destination, he starts to walk and explore this newfound place.

There isn’t much to say about where he’s landed himself, and frankly, he’s thankful for that. Silence is a gift for him nowadays and even when he’s isolated, it’s rare that he isn’t plagued by awful memories that keep him from just closing his eyes for longer than a few minutes.

His slow steps are halted though, when he sees that he has brought himself in front of a very peculiar building. The rain continues to soak his body as the man stares at the white architecture and the statue that is displayed in front.

He chuckles. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. His luck had never been the one to land on his side, he didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

It’s quite big for a chapel, especially since he doesn’t recognize the figure in front. Still, it’s one of a god’s, nonetheless. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the lengths that devotees had gone to.

His curiosity gets the best of him when he goes nearer the said building, wanting to examine the sculpture. However, before he could even get a closer look, the wooden entrance opens.

The Khaenri'ahn’s first instinct is to transport himself away but finds that to be useless as he meets the eyes of another. What he didn’t expect next, is genuine worry.

“My goodness! Are you alright?” 

He almost gets confused as to why one would react in such horror. He doesn’t have any blood on him, does he?

Dainsleif looks down, not wanting to traumatize a random stranger…and discovers that there’s nothing wrong with him?

He lifts his head back up, only to find you nowhere near the doors of the chapel. He wonders where you are for a quick second until he feels something warm covering his body.

“I hope my robe will make do…Come on, get inside. You must be cold.” His reluctance is evident in his face but before he can even say anything, he’s pushed inside the chapel, much to his distaste.

Him stepping inside such a place was too much for him already that he forgot the fact that he’s wearing a robe, one that he assumed was no ordinary one.

Dainleif wants to take it off and so he tries to, at least.

“Keep it. I apologize I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”

He really does not want to wear a priest’s robe. 

“Did you come here for the mass? I’m afraid it ended an hour ago…Ah, but you can still stay until the rain stops.” You offer generously.

“No. I just happened to be passing by.” He explains.

He watches as your mouth gapes, looking for the words to say after you’ve just brought him in here out of his will.

“That makes sense…I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. Not that it matters, you can still stay. The Chapel of our God is glad to help any troubled souls.”

He takes offense at that. 

“Troubled, you say? That’s quite a big assumption of a man you’ve just met.” His tone is as monotone as ever, yet that doesn’t hide the disdainful look that lingers in his bright eyes.

You muse.

“Ah yes, a non-troubled person that enjoys looking gloomy and letting the rain pour all over them.”

Dainsleif bites his tongue at that.

“I’ll show you around.”

While it does interest him that this chapel worships a god that isn’t of the seven, that doesn’t mean that he wants to learn more about a dead god who was defeated in the archon war just like the others. Although he presumes that the way you tell of their tales makes it somewhat bearable.

Even if it’s not what he expected.

It’s not as overwhelming as he had thought, but perhaps that was due to the lack of nuns he usually sees when it comes to churches.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask fondly, stopping your rambling about your said god just to listen to him.

“Does this place have many attendees?”

“Not quite…but it’s a lot if you consider they’re followers of a God who isn’t one of the seven.”

Frankly, Dainsleif doesn’t get it. It’s not as if all these masses you lead would ever lead to something else. It’s just wasted hard work, if he’s to be brutally honest.

He can tell that there’s a lot of admiration and work you have put into this, but for what reason? What reason is there to keep spreading the word of someone you haven’t even personally met?

Would your faith waiver if knowledge of your god performing deemed evil acts is brought upon you?

“Should we continue the tour?” You ask.

He politely shakes his head, thoughts still lingering in his head.

“We must adhere to these values that our God has specified in their writings…that our way of living as a mortal is something that should be celebrated and not frowned upon…”

The non-believer sits at the last row of the chapel, somewhat half-heartedly listening to your words as you read passages from a book in your hands.

He only watches, observing the entire view in front of him. How people reply in unison whenever you say a certain phrase, an exchange that he finds to be quite strange. 

The mass isn’t that long, yet you still manage to lead that hour with grace, making sure that every part of it goes well without any fault.

How you stand to the side, leaning on the podium with a smile as everyone sings along with the choir.

Dainsleif’s eyes meet yours and he sees you mouth a greeting to him.

…He supposed that he can stay for a minute when everyone has gone.

He sees you grin as you start walking towards him, your robe neat and tidy as ever.

Surprisingly, he speaks first.

“I’m surprised you still have a recollection of me.”

“It’s only been a few months.” You reply, your voice soft and soothing, unlike the way you spoke as you preached earlier.

Most people would choose to forget. “You’re different in person than you are earlier.”

“Perhaps.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the chapel, the mosaic windows dim the bright sunlight from the outside but that only results in the colored glass reflecting stunningly on your face.

He takes the initiative and speaks again.

“Is it because I’m not a follower?”

Your breathing catches on his ear. “Maybe.”

He wonders if you know of his lineage and if that’s the reason why you had kept an eye out for him, suspicions rousing through your brain.

“Father.” The change of tone to formality shocks you a little that you were forced to question why he’s suddenly calling you that.

Your awkward chuckle echoes through the building. “What are you calling me that for?”

“Just seeing if your attitude would change. If you’re truly as honest as you present yourself to be.”

You click your tongue. “Is there a reason you came here?”

There it is. A snarky tone. He knew he was right to come back here. 

Why was he sent here before? Was someone playing tricks on him? The Abyss? The gods? He knows there has to be a reason for him being teleported here that day.

“May I ask how someone becomes a member of your church, Father?”

He hears you sigh deeply. Why?

Aren’t more members what you want and need?

“If that’s how you want to do this then…I’ll amuse you. Follow me, troubled one.”

Dainsleif’s fists close at the nickname.

He’s brought to a room that you once showed him the previous time that he was here. You never explained what exactly this room was for as he left just before you got to.

There’s a small fountain, clear and blue flowing through it.

“This is a small tradition we have. It’s based on one of the writings that…you haven’t read, but that’s alright. It’s not that difficult to follow.” You start to explain.

“It’s a symbol of starting anew, to wash yourself of the regrets you have.” 

“And if I do not have any?” He questions.

“You do. Everyone does, even Gods.”

“You think gods regret the things they’ve done.” His patience is thinning inch by inch. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“That I do. According to one of the passages that—”

“How exactly do I know whether what you’re saying is genuine or just out of a damn book?” He interrupts.

You stare at him with a disapproving look. “You’re deflecting.”

“Excuse me?” 

“What is it that troubles you?”

Nothing. He’s fine. He’s done with everything, there’s no use in pondering over what could’ve and should’ve been.

“Don’t act as if you’re superior to me.” He says, visibly upset.

“So much for becoming a believer.” 

That’s when the grin is swayed off your face in just a few seconds as Dainsleif pins you to the wall, your head slightly tilted up as he grips tightly on your collar.

“Who sent you?” His enchanting eyes cross yours, not even a shade of fear in them.

“What exactly have you gone through that you think everything is out to get you?”

He stills at that. You’re not trying to push him off.

Instead, you’re conversing with him like he’s a lost lamb who’s unsure of where to go. An amenable priest who listens and asks.

He lets go. Your robe is now crinkled, and the mark of his fist is clearly evident.

You sit on the bench near the fountain, patting the empty space right next to it. Dainsleif refuses the offer, choosing to continue standing while he searches for the next words he’d like to say.

You smile.

“You don’t have to apologize or continue this. It doesn’t mean anything anyways if you don’t take it to heart.”

It’s such a strange sentence to hear from someone like you. You’re not..forcing him nor are you trying to sell him your ways by threatening him of what he may face if he doesn’t.

The Khaenri'ahn sighs, the words of apology already at the tip of his tongue.

“I’d prefer it if we were to continue.”

“You would?”

“I can still change my mind.” He jests, seeing you beam from ear to ear.

Dainsleif slowly walks towards the fountain, sitting beside you and laying his head down on your shoulder. The gesture is surprising to the priest but it isn’t turned away.

“I hope you’re quite ready, Father. This might take a while.” He says with his eyes closed.

“Confess your regrets, my troubled one.”

Eventually, it becomes a habit of his to visit you whenever he’s plagued with thoughts that make him anxious and question his choices.

And each time, you’re there to give advice. To lend a shoulder, and sometimes a little more than that.

He will never worship a god, but he’ll sure as hell worship you.

Dainsleif always waits patiently in the last row, watching you and listening to how your voice sounded rather than the message you’re conveying.

It’s soothing, in a way.

He doesn’t say a thing and only waits as you walk down the aisle with a smile.

It’s a silent exchange.

You place your hand on his shoulder and Dainsleif rubs the side of his chin on your hand, his eyes shut. 

“Dainsleif.”

“Yes, Father?” He teases, a smirk forming on his face before opening his eyes.

Your fingers lift his head slightly before bending down to reach his soft lips. He doesn’t pull away, he presses them further as if it’s his salvation. 

It’s somewhat sick that he’s found comfort in someone like you. He contemplates whether he’s walking the path of failure that the gods have planned, if this whole thing will eventually turn over just to punish him even more.

In the end, it’ll all be his fault. He’s the one who revealed secrets that you’ve never asked for.

“You’re making that face again, Dain.” You speak.

“What face?”

“The kind you make when you’re overthinking things. The one I want to get rid of.”

Dainsleif reaches for your hand, asking even if he knows the answer. “Pray tell, how exactly?”

“It makes me wonder if it’s a turn on of yours to get fucked in a place of worship.”

“Like how it’s a turn on for you when I’m on my knees and calling you Father?”

You laugh, caressing his hair as you look down on him.

“You don’t even worship the God of this place.” He looks so sweet like that, his head between your legs. Such beauty ready to kneel for you and do whatever if you ask him kindly.

“What’s the need when I already worship you?” Dainsleif says and takes you in.

Dainsleif never imagined he’d gladly be spending his time inside of a chapel, right in front of empty seats where anyone can walk in through those wooden doors, acting as if the altar is your hips.

And yet he’s letting you use his mouth eagerly, so used to how you taste that sometimes he himself craves for it when you two are separated.

“That’s right, love. Just think of me.” 

He groans as you push further into his throat, his eyes wandering to you despite his breathing getting obstructed.

He loves the things you do. Whether it be hearing you talk so dearly to him, tugging his hair with the right amount of pull, or the way you fill his mouth nicely like this.

It’s yours.

The sound that escapes his throat when your foot presses directly on his crotch is loud and lewd, echoing through the empty chapel.

His cheeks lightly flush, grumbling something incoherent.

“Speak clearly, my lamb.”

He rolls his eyes at the mischievousness of your voice. You know he can’t, and yet you’re still asking him to do so.

He follows still, of course.

“M-Mo—ah!” 

Dainsleif chokes as he tries to speak.

“Too much for you?”

He shakes his head and tries again.

“Mow—Moah-”

It’s not working. He’s stuffed full to even say it.

“Come on,” Your foot steps on his cock again. “There’s another way to plead. I’m sure a smart devotee of mine can figure that out.”

His chest heaves, trying to calm his breathing from the pressure and whining as it stops.

That’s when Dainsleif moves of his own accord, taking you even deeper than you already were. You can feel the vibrations from when he slowly pants, breathing through his nose more so he won’t pass out.

He bats his eyelashes at you, with a face full of sin.

Tears are starting to form in his eyes.

Please.

Dainsleif gags on your cock again, moaning impurely when your foot begins to knead more aggressively on his pants.

Your shoe adds even more stimulation and his cock aches wanting, no, begging for a release.

“Such a sinful body, no wonder the gods haven’t been blessing you.”

Fuck.

He continues to whimper, sucking your cock needily and knowing you’ll stop if he doesn’t do well.

“You get on your knees to be a slut, I wonder if they’ve bruised already.”

They do. They always do when you fuck his throat like this.

His mind is hazy and he’s close, he’s so—

“Hmgh!—”

“Not yet. Be patient.”

His body wants to buck down when you remove the pressure just seconds before he cums, but your hold on his head keeps him from doing that and he’s left to whine painfully.

The tears in his eyes finally fall and he stares up at you to be merciful, to let him have this one since it’s been a month of waiting to finally have you get him off like this.

“You want it?”

He nods and whines, begging for you to hear him out.

“Alright.”

When he gets permission, he sobs out on your cock, cumming inside in his own pants and soiling the floor. You feel how warm his breath is, his body is tired and trembling, but he keeps trying to make you finish as if it’s the only thing he’s made for. Even if he’s barely doing it well, too drunk with his tongue tired already.

The sight of that is enough to get you off.

Dainsleif tries to swallow but he doesn’t do it fully, cum dripping down his chin and coughing on the amount he can’t.

He finds it a waste that he isn’t able to. He stares, wondering if he should clean it up.

“Dain, it’s fine. You did amazing.”

His heart softens.

“Let me help you out, love.”

His head rests on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. A tradition that you two somehow have ended up doing each time you finish.

He thinks it’s sweet and funny that you act so soft despite the things you say when having sex.

“Tell me.” You say.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s bothering you?” You question.

Dainsleif only snickers at that.

It’s you, Father.

Gone Too Long

Summary: Joel embraces you after you had gone missing for some time.

Joel Miller x Male Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Tags: Angst, Comfort, Soft!Joel

A/N: Here's a short one for you! Took me a couple hours to write, so hope it turns out enjoyable.

Still nothing, still the gates stayed shut just as they were three days ago.

You, and a few other residents in Jackson, had yet to return from your patrols. The objective for your group was quite simple, clear out any infected in your assigned area. The danger levels were not as high, since Jackson would routinely send out their finest members to keep infected from coming into the radius of their walls, mitigating any chances of anyone getting hurt. The odds were stacked in their favor, but it wasn’t certain. 

Tommy and Maria were standing among an ever growing crowd close by the gates of their town. Both arguing with his older brother, Joel, and a few other of the residents who insisted they send a search party for their missing loved ones.

The people shouted, “How long until we do something”, “My daughter is out there!”

Concern was rising, tensions were high but Maria opped to calm the people down. Using her hand to assert some level of control, she tries settling the worried crowd while Joel and Tommy were arguing just behind her. 

“I already told you, we don’t have the guys to be sending out there, right now,” Tommy explained.

Joel shook his head, “It’s been days Tommy, days since we’ve heard from them”.

“What can we do? We already advised our patrols to be on the lookout. Even the ones that were sent out this mornin’.”

Joel scuff, “They ain’ looking for them, they’re just doing their damn job.”

“And that's the best we can do” Tommy says.

Joel opened his mouth but closed it after, turning his head in frustration. He knew by this point that continuing a dispute with Tommy was just a waste of time. He felt every second that wasn’t dedicated to finding you was a waste of time. In fact everything felt that way to him, why bother getting people involved when he could just do it himself.

“I’ll go,” Joel concludes, his back turned to Tommy making his way to the stable. 

Tommy quickly chases after him, “Joel. Hey!” He grabs his brother’s arm, who shooed it away. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You don't know where they are…how you're going to get to them…”

“I’ll find a way, I always do”, Joel states sternly.

“You’ll find a way to get yourself killed.”

Joel stops where he’s at and turns to Tommy, “Yeah? At least someone actually give a damn around here! If-” Joel halts his words gathering up his thoughts, “I can’t lose him. If..if something happened to him I…god,” his breath was unsteady. 

There was a brief change in Joel's expression, one Tommy hadn’t seen in a long time; desperation. It was quick though, so fast that he would’ve missed it if he’d blinked, before Joel changed back to his almost demeaning expression.

Tommy knew how much you meant to Joel, how much he cared for you. The man’s heart seemed to be growing back, to take that away from him…again…Tommy definitely didn’t want to see that. Maria came to mind and how he’d react if she was in your predicament. Maybe he’d do the same too.

Tommy pursed his lips, grasping the weight of the situation from Joel’s perspective. He nods his head, allowing his brother to go through with his plan. However, Joel wasn’t looking Tommy in the eyes anymore. His attention was caught by something just over his brother’s shoulder. He moves forward, with Tommy following him with his eyes, Joel stops after a few steps. 

Now in the same direction of Joel, Tommy could now see it too. The gate was beginning to open. The watchers were waving down to the people below that something was wrong. The two men wasted no time making their way over to the gate.

Maira quickly got the crowd to back into the sidewalks, “This way, this way people.” With everyone clear for those on the other side of the gate, it continued to open until stopping at its limit. Your group, the ones that had gone missing, finally made it back to town. The group trotted into town, looking as if they had all seen a ghost. Only three horses had returned instead of four, with one of the patrol members mounted on your horse completely battered. Things didn’t look too good. 

You dismount your horse, careful not to knock your comrade off with you. “Come” you say, pulling the injured member down. A random lady had called out to her, claiming her as her ‘daughter’. She cries out along with the injured lady as they hug one another. A smile running across your face, happy that you saved a family member from having to deal with the loss of a loved one. Maria came up to you with concern in her face, “You alright?”

You titled your head momentarily, “Could be better.”

“I feel it might be too soon to ask what happened," she replies.

You appreciated her concern, as you didn’t really want to talk about it, at least not right now. You watched as the other members dismounted from their horses while coming up with a response, “It was awful, a couple of raiders got us and-” you didn’t bother to finish your statement since Maria didn’t push you to complete it. You sigh, looking about the subsiding crowd, “Is Tommy here? Joel?”

Maria, “Uh, they were just here not long ago…oh…right over there.”

Your eyes gaze in the direction she points. Your heart jumps, seeing him. Joel, standing still while his brother began toward you and Maria. Tommy’s frame was starting to block your view of Joel, so you paced over to him. You collide with Tommy, shaking his hand as he places his other hand on your shoulder. You exchange greetings without saying a word, he motions to Joel who still was stunned. Tommy’s gaze and small smile telling you to, ‘Go hug your damn man’. Letting go of his hand, you make your way to Joel in strides. He finally started moving, your name escaping his lips as he started jogging toward you. 

Next thing you know, you two are embracing. Like magnets, you latch onto each other dearly. Your vision blurred, watery, swearing that Joel was the one squeezing the tears out of you. You wished that were true, only it wasn’t and you were just ecstasy to see him again.

A tear rolled down your face, as you huffed, “Joel” sounding like you questioned if he was even real.

Joel’s rough hand ran up your back, leading all the way to the back of your neck. “I’m here, baby…I’m right here”. His voice, so close to your ears, it was enough to take all your worries away. 

For Joel, he trembled, more so than you were for different reasons then you. He could tell your time out there was nightmare fuel, hellish to an extent. The man wanted nothing but to tear down everything that brought harm to you out there. If it meant a few people, multiple gangs or the whole damn world, he'd do it. But now, you needed him, and Joel wasn’t planning on going anywhere. 

He turns his head to place a kiss along your cheek, continuing to reassure you of your safety. With his free hand going in circles around your back, he softly states, “Let it out, you’re home now”. 

You did just that, silently tearing up into the man's shoulders. Hearing his words made you relax further into his hold, your head resting against his cheek. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of Joel’s jacket consume you. His heat grounded you, ensuring that you were in fact, home.