#dev writes

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {away from the city}

Pairing: Tired Dad! Joel Miller x Experienced Camper! Reader

Summary: The neighboring campsite hosts a tired dad who seems to be ill-equipped for what he openly admits was a rather impromptu getaway with his teenage daughter. Thankfully, you keep extra supplies in your hatchback and are willing to share.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: canon typical language, cussing, brief mention of bleeding injury, sexual tension, pining, mutual pining, fluffiness, super soft yearning, sexual content, adult content, piv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, depraved descriptions of the male body, just a light little piece for me!

A/N: hoping this isn't as lame as it seems in my head. imposter syndrome is flaring, y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“God dammit.” A deep, gravely voice solemnly murmurs from the next site over. Slightly muffled from inside the tent the broad-shouldered man had dipped into shortly after pulling into the parking spot in a dark blue trunk. He had managed to get it pitched in a miraculously short amount of time despite the giggling and bouncing teen tangling the guy lines and rucking up the corners of the tarp underneath.

“Everything okay, dad?” The teen in question asked as she popped up from the cooler she was digging around in, a can of soda in her grip.

“…yeah, everything’s good, baby girl.” She glanced over at you with a roll of her eyes, not believing him for a second and needing someone to share in the moment. Before she could call him on the obvious lie, a loud hissing sound ruffled the side of the tent, billowing it out in a rather funny way.

Trying to keep your laughter low to avoid attention, you got up from your spot tending to the flames of your fire, foiled single use pan over the grill plate of the pit. A casserole you had parbaked last night in preparation for today. It was a broccoli cheddar one, the noodles and chicken beginning to season the air along with the crackling pine offered for visitors at the general store at the entrance to the park. The trunk of your SUV was silent as you lifted it and scanned the supplies you had stocked up in the space.

The spare air mattress you kept was on the smaller side, but it didn’t hurt to offer it to the little father and daughter duo. You pulled the fabric of your hiking shorts down a little, to cover up the bandage over a cut you had gotten earlier that afternoon on a hike before gripping the box and walked over to the edge of your site.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, give me sec!”

“Sir?” You walked over the invisible line between yours and theirs, aware of the girl now fiddling with a small MP3 player, wired earbuds already popped into her ears beneath a mane of kinky hair pulled back into low buns at the back of her head. “I’ve got an extra mattress if yours has holes in it.”

“Huh?” His head appears in the opening of the tent, dark curls tousled and slightly damp with sweat. His brown eyes were wide, his plush lips parted underneath a thick moustache. He was on his knees, prompting you to look down as you approached the tent. He looked up at you through his hooded eyes and you swore your heart jumped in your chest. He had crows’ feet at the edges of them, those and the deep wrinkle in his brow adding to his appeal.

“This is my spare, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gauging where his daughter was and why he hadn’t heard an interaction from her before you appeared before him with a gift in your hand and kind words on your lips. She knew how to hold her own, but he still worried for her because the world could be cruel. Her music was a low hum even from here, telling him she was gone from his world for the meantime, social battery probably low or even just a bit bored with him out here in the middle of the state park while he set things up.

“Uh, thanks. Who’re-“

“I’m from just over there,” You lean back a little to wave to the left. He had seen the hatchback parked there all day but hadn’t seen the camper until just now. You must’ve snuck back into the grounds from a mid-morning hike that begins off the campgrounds or a nap you were possibly taking in your rather clean tent. He felt self-conscious at the way he was looking up at you with wide eyes, the dirt and dust that coated everything from his cooler to his own truck to the tent he was currently kneeling in. The trip was last minute, but it just reminds him of how much better he needs to be about upkeep in his own home and garage. The truck he could get away with, but he didn’t want to bring his work home with him more than he already did. “We’re campsite neighbors.”

“Mighty nice of ya, think mine has a leak somewhere.” The admittance is easy from his lips, shocking you in its honesty. The last time you had tried to offer similar help, you had been shot down and denied a chance. Told you didn’t know what you were talking about and that the person who had been having trouble knew more than you did, that you should mind your own business. Shaking the bad memory and relationship from your mind, you offer a polite smile and lean over a little to peer into the space around the man eclipsing the entrance.

“Mind if I take a look?” You set down the rather hefty box containing the spare bed and lean down to unhinge the ankle strap on your campsite sandals. It may be a little forward of you, but he seemed willing to discuss the issue, and you wanted to help any way you could. When he doesn’t protest, still gazing up at you with that doe eyed expression, you step into the rather dusty interior. The mattress is in the center of the back wall, the foot end of it facing toward your campsite. You crouch down to inspect the area around the boston valve. Just as you reached out a hand to feel around the base of it, you felt heat at your right side.

“’s over on the other side, I think.” The man’s voice was close, the baritone of it vibrating through you as you turned your own curious expression over to him. He seems to have composed himself, as he shuffles close to you, nearly pressing his broad chest into your side to motion to the left side of bed. The near contact makes you jolt, the way he had almost unconsciously fallen into your personal space. Not having been so close to anyone in recent memory makes the moment into more than it is on the surface, and you try not to let it get to your head. Just a friendly interaction, that’s all.

“Apologies,” He’s moving away just as suddenly as he had appeared beside you, leaving your heart racing in your chest so loud you hope he can’t hear it within the confines of the nylon enclosure. You can’t tell with the bright afternoon sunlight, if there’s a tinge to the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. But you’re pretty sure if there is one it’s because of his embarrassment of the thoughtless act and nothing more. A simple accident of invading a stranger’s space and nothing more.

He’s just a stranger who needed a bit of help, nothing more. Tamping down the runaway thoughts of the man and how calming his presence is even with just a few moments of interacting with him, you focus on the task at hand.

After a few moments of fiddling with the valve and ensuring its secure, you have him press down the palms of his hands on the top of the mattress as you scoot it out to feel where the air is leaking from.

There’s a slit in the groove that helps to support the weight of whoever lays atop it, barely visible.

“Ah, yeah. It’s here.” You switch places with him and he sees what you’re talking about.

“Shit,” He’s rubbing a hand over the dark scruff on his chin, dragged down the column of his neck as he realizes it’s not even a hole but a tear. A mighty long one that he’s incapable of fixing out here with no duct tape or putty.

“No worries, you can use the spare I brought over.” Standing up, you clap your hands to rid them of the dust that you had gathered on them. Doing the same with your knees, you glance around the space and realize how small it is. “Is this the only tent you brought?”

“No, uh, Sarah – my girl out there,” Joel is hunched over, the inside of the tent not tall enough for him to stand at his full height, he’s following your form as you exit, taking the offered box that contains the solution to his current problem. “This one’s hers. Gotta get mine set up. Was just gonna give her mine if hers was damaged. Saved me the pain of sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ve got a small handheld vacuum, if you want to get the dust cleared up for her.” You offer with a slight smile, the small worry of overstepping making you self-conscious. “Just…if you want to.”

He pauses as he places the box beside the slowly deflating bed he had tried to set up. His eyes catch yours and you see something flash in them.

“’m not normally this unprepared, but she was…well, she was havin’ a bad week so we packed up after school and just hit the road.”

“Hey, no worries at all! I totally get needing to get away sometimes. That’s why I have enough to offer you my spare. Keep a bit in the car, a bit in the garage. Kinda ready to go whenever I feel the need.”

“It’s much appreciated.” His own lips twist up and you feel butterflies between your ribs. He’s effortlessly handsome, his chocolate curls mused and his face showing the years he’s spent raising his daughter and no doubt working hard to do it.

“I’ll just go grab that real quick then, leave you to finish setting up.” You crook your elbow and point back to your own campsite, but your feet stick to the ground when you see Joel crouched back down on the ground in his simple tee and jeans. His biceps flex with the way he begins to roll the remaining air out of the no-good mattress, catching your attention like a cat to a sunbeam.

“You’re an angel, can’t believe we lucked out with such a cool neighbor.” Joel chuckles to himself as he works, unaware of your watching gaze. “Last time we had this older couple that didn’t believe she was mine. Kept asking if she was okay or needed any help.”

“S-Sounds like a nightmare.” The lump that appears in your throat sticks even after you attempt to swallow it down. You couldn’t imagine the stress that caused, even if just fleetingly. They were obviously bonded, their easy temperance with each other speaking volumes for those around.

“Much better this time around, despite the faulty mattress.” He looks up once it’s rolled up and secured with velcro ties. His smile is brighter, reaching his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “Name’s Joel, and the tone-deaf teenager out there is Sarah.”

You look over your shoulder at the dancing, twirling teenager. She’s still got her music playing a touch too loud, her lips mouthing along to most of the words. Some of them she sings aloud, and it’s…it is rather tone-deaf. But it brings a smile to your face all the same, she’s allowed to feel like she can be herself around her father. That’s an impressive feat, that they seem so close with no underlying awkwardness or feelings of insecurity.

Turning back to him, you offer your own introduction.  

The sounds of Joel finishing setting up his campsite fill the air but aren’t bothersome. Just a part of the afternoon that grows into the evening. Others showing up as well, the sound of rubber mallets securing tent spikes in the soft ground, of vinyl and tarp being stretched out and shifted into place, of grills being filled with charcoal and the sizzling of food as it hits the hot grates. Laughter and soft conversations float through the air amid the gentle breeze and you sigh as you sit down at your table with a bowl of the casserole that had finished cooking.

The peaceful reverie is enhanced by the infectious giggling of Sarah, the teenage girl just over the invisible line between the campsites. Joel’s own carefree laughter making your chest feel light. They’ve got their stuff all set up, the propane grill Joel brought working hard as he cooks what looks like too much food for just the two of them. But they both load their plates up and settled at their picnic table with freshly opened drinks from the cooler.

You feel the look before it registers, so caught up in the book gripped between your hands. It’s been on your list for far too long, a few pages read here and there throughout your hectic day, before bed as you try to wind down but end up passing out with it flattened on your chest. But now, the reading seems to be disrupted in the form of Joel. He’s at the edge of your space, calling out your name.

An offer for food if you wanted some, that there was a little bit of everything and plenty of it if you cared to join them. With no thought for the passage you had just been immersed in, you close the book and leave it in the seat of your camp chair. The vinyl hushes with the wight of the paper but you pay it no mind as you ask after what all he’s got and pick up a fresh beer from your cooler.

Easy conversation flowed and soon your laughter rung in the air alongside theirs.

Sarah had gone to bed after a bit of gentle prodding from Joel. Her head had bobbed a few times, trying her hardest to stay up despite her fluttering eyes and deep breaths as she sat in front of the dwindling fire alongside you both.

They hadn’t been able to get one going in their own pit, too much debris left behind from the previous inhabitants. So yours had been stoked and kept alive for hours now as night fell. Their chairs had been effortlessly moved beside yours, surrounding the once roaring warmth, something you hadn’t minded in the slightest. He’s walking back up to now, hands in his pockets and a flannel added over his tee. He looks so cozy, so at home now that he’s gotten settled.

He sighs heavily as he plops back down in the chair beside your own, scooting it closer now that you’re alone. You can smell the lingering scent of his cologne on the new addition of clothing and it has you unconsciously leaning into his space.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“Thanks, darlin’. You smell mighty good yourself.” He’s smirking when your eyes snap up at the realization that you just said that out loud.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t-“

“’s okay. But I’ve been wonderin’ something.” His tone tilts, pitches low as he regards the fire that’s more smoldering ashes than flames in the pit. The shadows cast over his profile take your breath away, make your heart ache for how beautiful he is. He’s a good man, if your evening together was anything to go by.

A devoted father, a caring family man, a capable man who worked himself perhaps too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah?” You feel the air shift, something sparking between you two now that you’re alone. You wonder if he’s about to tell you his wife is back home waiting for their return, if he’s going to ask you why you keep stealing ogling glances his way. If he’s going to reveal to you that he’s onto you and doesn’t like the attention. But his question is exactly what you wanted to hear, because you have the exact same one for him.

“You got anyone waitin’ for you back home?” Joel’s voice is even, despite the way one of his hands is tapping away at the armrest of his chair. The empty beer in his mesh cupholder sweating and the label is peeled off. It’s endearing to see his quirks, the man rather enticing despite only knowing him for a few hours. Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies tickling your insides as you realized he may be as attracted to you as you are to him. Unless he was just making polite conversation now that it was just the two of you…

“Like a boyfriend?” You dare to ask, seeking clarification. Feeling the slight charge in the air is making you a little dizzy, the looks you had caught him giving you when you were busy helping Sarah with her smores only making you feel even more so as you recall the way his eyes had shown in the amber firelight. You lean toward him, finding that he had done the same. There are only a few inches between you now, elbows crooked and bodies curved toward each other. You try to disguise your surprise, but you’re sure he can see in as his lips quick up on one side.

“Like a boyfriend.” His breath is so warm as it puffs against your lips. He’s so, impossibly close and it wouldn’t take but a tilt of your head to close the gap.

“Oh.” Your eyes search between his own, looking for something behind them. Finding no ill intent, no underlying darkness. There’s only hope flickering there, shielding the loneliness you can sense in him, the same that you mask in your own life. You feel your lips pull up into a teasing smile as you glance down at his plush lips. “No.”

“Good.” And he’s closing the gap. Hands coming up to cradle your face and nose brushing against yours as his lips capture yours.

The next morning, you’re packing up the remainder of your stuff as quietly as possible. The sun has yet to rise, the sky barely beginning to lighten on the horizon. Joel is snoring just loudly enough that you can pick up the sound coming from inside his tent. You don’t want to bother him, seeing as he’s resting after a rather long night. You feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way they had dragged down your throat, your collarbone, lower still beneath your shoved off flannel and rucked up tank top.

“Don’t normally do this kinda thing.” He groaned into your skin as his exploring fingers undid the small tie at the front of your shorts. The thickness of them as they hooked in the waistband and pulled made you dizzy, made your body clench around nothing at the heady thought of them delving lower.

“What? Make out with strangers?” You huff a giddy laugh that turns into a choked whimper as his knuckles graze between your legs, feeling the dampness there. He presses close, and you feel the pressure of his hand against your swollen lips, can feel the way he slowly parts them with gentle movements. Fingertips find your sensitive bud and your body glitters, eyes fluttering shut.

“Make out with anyone. Been so focused on other stuff.”

“Focus on me then, just for now.” You whisper as you reach for him, guiding his face back up to yours and kissing him deeply. He swallows the moan that bursts from your chest as his fingers find your fluttering entrance. He’s knuckle deep and crooking them before you can catch your breath. It hitches, leaves you and causes you to break away from him when they nudge a spot just right, lighting up your body in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

“That’s the spot, huh darlin’?” He thrusts his fingers in a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling your soft walls clench around him, the jolt to your body and the arching of your back telling him he’s found exactly the right spot. “C’mon, you feel so damn good. Lemme see how pretty you are.”

Through a heavy-lidded gaze, you see him hovering above you. His outline stark in the glow of the string lights strung up around your campsite. His brown eyes are glittering and blown wide, his lips are parted and panting for breath, chest dusted with the same dark hair atop his head. When had he even taken his shirt off? It doesn’t matter, you lose the thought as your hands begin to explore his chest. Nails raking lightly down his pecs and toward the softness of his belly. Belt unbuckled and pants undone, but still secure around his waist.

Heat encompasses you, your body alight as he beckons you closer and closer to the edge. You fall with a cry of his name when he leans down to nip at your breast, nipple taut between his teeth. He guides you through it, fingers dragging it out before he gently removes them from your fluttering core and twitching clit.

“That’s a pretty sight indeed, darlin’.” He kisses your temple, your cheeks, your forehead. A grunt of surprise falls from him when you surge up and wrap your arms around his neck and use your feet to push his jeans off. His rumbling laughter fills the dark space as he quickly pushes them off all the way and kicks them off the bed. “Gonna let me have you, sweet girl, gonna let me feel you come on my cock?”

“Fuck, Joel, yes, please.” You rut against him as his erection bobs up toward his stomach, needing more, needing to feel him. This safe, beautiful stranger you hadn’t known existed until today. He was intoxicating. The hot, long line of him hard where you grind against the underside of him. He groans a deep, guttural sound at the feeling, the slick of your swollen lips and the beads of precum falling from his tip making for such an easy glide.

His hand snakes down to guide himself a little lower, eliciting a cry from you when his head rubs roughly over your clit.

“Shh, shh, gotta be quiet now, don’t wanna wake the whole campground, do we?” He’s watching your face twist in pleasure, the way your bottom lip plumps between teeth as you try to quiet yourself. He tries to muffle his own loud moan when he finally pushes in. Everything stills for the barest of moments, eyes meeting and breath hitching. Before he’s snapping his hips against yours, bending over you to lift a leg over his shoulder and his teeth grit as he tries to keep his sounds restrained.

You’re lost to the feeling of his body moving against yours, moving inside yours. He’s filling you so deeply, hitting that spot you didn’t believe any guy could find and it’s making your vision sparkle bright white.’

Your face heats as you recall the way he had desperately asked ‘where’ in that gravely twang of his. The feeling of him still filling you, dampening your underwear as he dribbled out a little bit at a time. It had been rather risky a move, but the pills you took everyday would help prevent any…mishaps with the handsome man you hadn’t expected to meet on your own impromptu excursion from the city.

Austin.

He was from there too and something compelled you to write your name and number on a blank page of your small notepad. A little note saying to call you for a coffee sometime because it had been nice to talk to him and his daughter. You left the remainder of the casserole in the tin and secured the crumpled foil over it before cautiously lifting the lid to their large cooler. Thankfully there was space for the extra food, they would need it with their additional night in the park.

But you needed to go, real life responsibilities calling your name back from the slice of reprieve you had sought out.

Picking up the packed tent, the handles rough in your hand like Joel’s calloused palms, you looked the campsite over one last time. Everything was packed now, the city beckoning you back though this camping trip had provided you with something you hadn’t had a taste of in a long time.

Hope.

next part

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[deviantly-inspired]

Ok so I've seen the idea of food 'made with love' being what Dream enjoys most but I really think we, as a collective fandom, need to lean in more to the idea of it, actually.

We KNOW from the comics that Dream eats food; that he was starving after his freedom. But even though he's hungry, even in the waking world, he won't eat because there's been nothing but bad intentions and malice directed to him for over a hundred years. He's wary. Like a spooked horsed.

But Hob Gadling has always been so unashamedly fond of Dream, that it's... tempting. to indulge.

(it's more than tempting. He's already starving: for dreams for nightmares for softness for sharpness. Hob is the only person Dream knows that he would take any of it from. If Hob were to offer him poison then Dream would take it gladly, if only to have something to fill the void within him. How miraculous it is, then, that Hob would only every offer succor)

So maybe Dream stares at some home-made food that's being eaten on some picnic while they're about. And Hob needles him just a bit, trying to get some information. What all goes into being Dream of the Endless? And Dream enjoys their wordplay and games so he dances around answering but his gaze keeps going back to that soft little picnic, not too far. Hob steers the conversation towards intent, and Dream admits that, yes, he can sense the intent things are made with, before directing the conversation to something a little safer then the art of consuming.

(Dream would take and take and take and take anything that Hob would give him. Even poison. And would thank him for the malaise of it. It is safer, then, to not let even the hint of hunger touch his waking form.)

But Hob didn't get to over 600 by being a slouch on his academics. He's smart. perceptive. He knows people, and Dream is certainly a 'people' even if he's not quite a person. So he makes something simple, that night. A stew maybe, and thinks of his mother's care and simple wishes whispered to the cast iron. love and kitchen magic. Spells for healthy children and a meal that will fill for longer than it should. Hob wonders, to this day, if maybe she was some sort of real witch and not just the magic that all good mothers are. But he can't ask her so he whispers wishes into his potatoes and encourages the bone to seep fully- he's going to be all bones like you if you don't fill him up- and thanks the meat for it's part and imagines it sticking to the inside of whatever Dream calls ribs to keep him going for a bit longer than he might have otherwise.

(there's all sorts of magic in the world. most of it regular folks will never get to touch. but there is a type of magic, the oldest kind, that's alive and well even in the most scientifically inclined people.)

Hob presents this stew casually. There's no fooling Dream though. It's simple appearance does nothing to hide all that was poured into it. The way the vegetables sing of harbors and the meat dreams of comfort. How the broth simmers with comfort and fullness and broken bread over centuries. love thickens the whole of it into something that will last. Something that will stick and keep him full long past when he should be hungry. To fill the most ravenous parts of him. He wants to consume. He cannot.

I shouldn't, Dream says.

It's yours, Hob replies. I made too much anyway. Wouldn't want this to go to waste.

The idea of it wasting, left to rot, a gift returned, is abhorrent. Dream never claimed to abide by the mortal concept of good. He eats the stew, and then the second bowl and then the third. And hob is only too happy to give him more and more and more, until the pot is empty and, still, Dream starves.

I shouldn't, Dream says with his eyes locked on Hob's lips.

I'm yours, Hob replies. I've always been yours. There's enough of me to pour into you, however much you want for however long you want.

I will want you endlessly, Dream warns with what little strength he has. There is nothing in me that does not hunger. I was born of Night most of all and this means that I know what it is to be a black hole, i know what it is to consume everything, even light, and still never be full.

Hob smiles and leans forward and pours himself into Dream's mouth, all of himself, all that he can spare and then more and more and more. He tastes like lightening and warm broth and bread broken under starry skies. It tastes like every daydream Hob has had for 600 years. It tastes like the knowledge that this will last, sticking to the inside of his ribs warming from within bolstering against that which would sap the meat from your bones. It tastes like something that will last.

(the oldest magic across every universe is love, of course. but you knew that already.

All stories return to their original form, after all.)

[devils-dares]

Top of the Class

summary: you and matt could not be further from each other, he's unlike you in every way and you hate him for it, but something always draws the two of you back to each other.

pairing: college!matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW 18+ minors DNI, this is basically hate sex with a little softness at the end, semi-established relationship?? (they're enemies)

wordcount: 858

a/n: first smut whaaaat?

feedback is always appreciated!

-----

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The noise of his headboard hitting the wall did absolutely nothing to deter you from making even more noise, the pistoning of his hips stealing away any semblance of thought from you. His large forearms bracket your head, his lips mere inches from yours.

"How's it feel, huh? How's it feel being fucked 'by the likes of me'?" He uses your earlier words against you, having overheard a conversation between you and your friends.

You moan pathetically in response, nails dragging down his back to leave raised red tracks in their wake, he curses and drops his head, sucking marks into your skin.

"Did you finally realize you're nothing but a whore? Fucking around with all those prep boys yet you're sneaking into my room at night just to get a good fuckin’? Such a naughty girl." One of his hands leaves the support he has on the bed to hold your neck, squeezing just enough to limit your air intake and have that delicious emptiness in your brain become evermore delirious.

"Can't even fucking talk, hm? You gonna cum?" You nod, and he laughs at you, "Poor you, too bad. Hold it." You whine at his words but do as he says. You have no reason to, but his domineering position has you in literally and figuratively a chokehold, so you comply anyways.

He sits up, grabbing your thighs to push your legs over his shoulders. He gives you no warning but a little smirk and a dark chuckle before he resumes fucking you. He hits that spot, which annoyingly, only he can hit and you squeal.

"Don't hold back," he whispers, "I want everyone in this goddamned house to hear you scream.'' He starts thrusting harder, resulting in you and the bed being the loudest you possibly can.

"Matty, Matty, please," you say and he laughs at you again.

"What are you begging for, brat? Use your big girl words for a change, thought you were top of your class." You're afraid to request, however, feeling as though he'd make fun of you for what you wanted.

"Say what you want, whatever you wish I'll grant it." He says, and you're left wondering how he can exert so much energy yet have so much breath left to talk to you.

"Closer, pl-please." His hips stutter for half a second, and then he picks up the pace.

"Awh, you want me closer? Alright babybug." You hated when he called you petnames, but so long as he granted your wish, which he did, you didn't care.

"Gonna cum!" You squeal into his shoulder. He brings you impossibly closer to his body, and you can feel his abs flex with every thrust.

"Matty please," you beg, "can I cum?" He tuts at you.

"You're so far gone, aren't you, pretty girl? Yes, you can cum for me." He feels you tighten around him, grunting as you arch your back into him and practically scream his name. He fucks you through it, and only slows when he feels you squeezing his shoulder.

"Too much?" He asks softly, and you nod.

"I can stop, princess." You shake your head quickly.

"I want-" You have to take a breath to finish your statement, the aftershocks of your orgasm still washing over you, "want you to finish in me." He squeezes your hips and drops his head to your shoulder.

"Can't just say stuff like that, angel." You feel him tenderly resume his thrusts, groaning deeply into your neck as you squeeze around him.

You feel him throb inside of you, and if the tightening of his hands on your hips is anything to go by, he's close. You bring one of your hands up to his hair and give a gentle tug, coaxing him to "give it to me, Matty." He groans, and you feel him fill you up. You convince him to stay, his softening cock still tucked up inside of you while he lays his body weight on you.

"You alright?" He was always kind and gentle to you in the moments after, a stark contrast to your relationship outside the bedroom. You nod, feeling your eyes droop.

"I gotta go. Gonna fall asleep if I stay."

"Stay," he talks softly as if he were trying to lull you to dreamland, "I'll take care of you. Let me clean you up and dress you, I'll grab you a glass of water."

"You don't ha-"

"I'm offering, angel, let me." You nod and he does just as he says.

-----

The two of you lay in his bed, he's dressed in just boxers and you've thrown on panties and his shirt. Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heartbeat willing you to sleep.

"Thank you." You say sleepily.

"For?" He asks softly, hands running up and down your bare thighs.

"Letting me in."

"I'm not quite sure what that means, angel." But he won't get an answer, for you've fallen asleep on his chest. He vows to your sleeping figure that he won't move until you've woken, pressing a secret kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you too, angel."

[i-can-kazoo]

[paperedking]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Batman: Death in the Family (Movie 2020), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Jason Todd, Catherine Todd, Willis Todd, Joker (DCU), Shelia haywood, Bruce Wayne, the audience Additional Tags: Screenplay/Script Format, Blood and Injury, Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Death, Drug Addiction, Non-Linear Narrative, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Character Resurrection, The Audience is a Character, The Audience is Complicit in Jason's Death/s, Stageplay Format Summary:

CATHERINE I keep dying.

YOUNG JASON Almost.

  Catherine hums, like she doesn’t want to tell Jason he’s wrong.

**poem used is practice makes permanent by m.a.w, @dvoyd​ on tumblr

[mariande-drakaina]

Clef, crashing into Kondraki's window: ‘M’ is just an upside down ‘W’ and ‘W’ starts with a ‘D’. Oh, also, ‘Y’ is just ‘V’ atop of a pole, and-

Kondraki, coming out of the shower with only a towel on: Get the, HELL out.

Clef's snarky ass: No.

[recusantalchemist]

i should probably state right now, half the weird sh- stuff i post here is just that- just weird random art i make. this is my place to vomit ideas and other forms of disorderly conduct worldbuilding. the official stuff or whatever you wanna call it- the things that end up canon or whatever will be on @regrowal-the-game. so no i dont plan to add demon girls and ponies to regrowal, i just wanted to make them because i got distracted for the 5000th time. but hey, if you want to mod them in some day, don't let me stop you.

can i interest you in some eye columns before you go?

[shaneshoodie]

Finally got farmers heart re formated and uploaded 3 chapters! I also renamed it.

So now it's

1) First Meeting

2) Flower Dance

3) 2 Heart Event

This fic follows the story of my farmer Dev and Shane!

[mariande-drakaina]

W e l l t h e n Ngl though as a Trans person, it really isn't that bad if you'd say (to me specifically) if I looked like a certain gender cuz like at this point, I really don't care LMAO, but I can correct if needed! However, it would be annoying if you kept using pronouns I don't use when I say what ARE my pronouns to ya

BUT THAT DEADNAMING THO oh man you'd really be dead

[moonscape]

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {masterlist}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. But settling in Jackson with his brother changed him for the better. He's known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. An offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.

Word Count: 57.8k - finished

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, pining, unrequited feelings, joel a little mean in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, arguing, heated interactions, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), jealousy, more to be added as the story develops!

A/N: now finished! this fic means so much to me, it's allowed to bare a bit of my soul with y'all and it's been received so well. thank you, from the bottom of my heart for the continued interaction with this, i love y'all

ao3 link || main masterlist || ko-fi

fic teaser || fic teaser no.2 || olive's song || artwork of olive and joel *NEW

the conversations we have -pre-series one shots:

sweetening the deal || how we pass the time || weather permitting

main series:

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 7

epilogue

[deviantly-inspired]

Dreamling concept

I absolutely love the 600 year slow burn to friendship and then wildfire romance that's in dreamling fics (it's IMMENSELY satisfying) but also, please consider:

after they finally (finally) become friends after 600 years they just... take their time, with romance. They spend years getting to know each other, genuinely, as friends. They don't know eachother, not really, until Dream has held Hob while he sobs over a loved one dying AND when he's seen Hob in his PJs eating ice cream out the pint because his students have stressed him out to the point of needing either ice cream or violence and Hob likes to think he chooses violence less often these days. And Hob doesn't really know Dream until he's heard that awful laugh, some unholy mix between braying donkey and the sound of magma shifting beneath the earth's crust OR until he's watched Dream scowl at the tele because they got to the last episode of "Game of Thrones" and Dream isn't any happier then anyone else is about a lot of those decisions.

And they spend days and weeks and years of being in one another's pockets. Choosing to come together again and again for a pint or a season binge or a silent supporting friend when the weight of living is a little harder. They earn each other's trust, and because they're both a little dense and maybe a lot more walking-wounded, the moment that each of them realizes that the other trusts them is, well, it's something that makes life worth living, for both of them.

Hob realizes Dream trusts him first, something small, something like Hob going to guide Dream out of the way and Dream just goes without any sort of hesitation. Not mountains or meteors could move Dream if he didn't want to, but he just goes to where Hob guides him out of the way so Hob can take the carrots out of the oven. It's enough to humble a man, and Hob might have a little cry over it later, in private, but for now he grins and tells Dream he has to try the carrots with the lamb, he hasn't lived until he's done so.

And Dream is a little slower to realize, I think. Because Hob is pretty open and friendly, it's a bit harder for Dream who's not so good with interacting with people face-to-face, to tell that Hob doesn't really get close to very many people for all that plenty seem to like him. There's a few exceptions, but even they are kept at a distinct distance. And it's maybe something small, like a small party or gathering of some of Hob's friends and it's late and folks are tipsy and Hob just kinda... dozes off against Dream. And Dream doesn't think anything of it, Hob does this quite often but Hob's other friends are immediately very surprised: Hob doesn't sleep in front of others, they explain. A relic from the war/traumatic past/whatever Hob's used to tell them. No matter how late or how tired or even how drunk he is, Hob would rather drive/bus/walk home then sleep where others can see him. You must be pretty special, one of them says. He even fell asleep on you like that: I've never seen him look so relaxed.

And I think that there's something beautiful about the slow, inescapable draw of it. It's like two meteors from opposite ends of the galaxy that have been on a collision course for eons. They both have moments of realizing that they're falling in love. They know it's going to happen, and the tension is slow and sweet and lovely. And there's no need to rush, because there's trust there too. Sometimes they'll meet gazes and they'll know, both of them, in that moment that they're in love. That, someday, what's growing between them is going to be a bloom unlike anything the universe has ever seen before. And they'll smile together and continue watching bad tv dramas or swapping gossip or sharing their pints and maybe their shoulders brush and their touches linger a bit longer that night but it's okay. There's no need to rush. They have forever after all.

And I think also that Dream is just a dramatic romantic enough of a bastard to confess to Hob on June 7, 2089 and i think Hob is just enough of a dramatic romantic to tell Dream that he certainly took his time.

I'm not late, am I, Dream will ask.

Of course not, Hob will laugh, you're exactly on time. We've plenty of it.

And in the Dreaming there will be a quiet warm breeze and gentle sunshowers as in the deepest heart of the dreaming a flower never before seen blooms awake. And in the waking two friends close the gap between them and talk about how Sally next door really needs to stop over watering her flowers she's going to drown the poor things, really.

And then they'll have the absolute longest courtship and engagement of anyone in the universe. There will be entire religions that will rise and fall before they get married. Pantheons will come into existence and be utterly dumbfounded when they're invited to Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling weddings because weren't they already married? They've been together since the beginning of it all.

It's be great.

[devils-dares]

Idk if u write for this sort of thing but if you do, can I request frank castle in subspace x male reader who takes care of him?- just some fluff with frank being cuddled and spoiled 👉🏻👈🏻

mdni for slight sexual content

okay i feel like he'd have to really trust the person he was with in order to let himself even think about going "brain numb" but...

it'd be after a long, arduous mission. something that really took a toll on him and made him just... need you. usually he comes home and grumbles about, taking a shower and then cracking a beer and slumping on the couch, but this time he seeks you out, and that's how you know it's different. he's softer, slower, shoulders sunken versus sitting at military attention. i feel like he'd be an entirely different beast, and he'd be physical about it, draping his body weight over yours while you're doing whatever. he's quiet, even when he's needy he never expresses what it is he craves.

anyways, i feel like afterwards, when you two are laying there, skin glowing with sweat in the aftermath.

"need anything? some water, a snack?" he blinks up at you, eyes glassy.

"huh?"

"can i get something for you? or can i do something for you?"

"i- water would be nice."

i genuinely he'd be like a little shocked, a little frozen because 99% of the time he's the caregiver in the relationship and now he's thinking why is the person i have a need to take care of taking care of me?

and you'd just quietly bring him water and slide back into bed, holding him against you as he drinks the water, praising him as he drink the whole thing and now he's actually so confused. he's getting into his head about it and you're so quick to snap him out of it that he doesn't even realize it until he's a melted puddle against your chest cause you're scratching his scalp. but the fact that he knows, even subconsciously, that he trusts you means that he's not even mentally there anymore. he's just floating away on some lazy river.

he can vaguely feel a towel of some sorts, a warmth flowing through him as he realizes you're just cleaning him off because there's no physical way you're dragging him to the shower. he feels pressure on his forehead, a gentle kiss, he thinks.

"frank?"

"mm?"

"feelin' okay?"

"high as a kite." you laugh at his words.

"that's nice."

"tha' fuck did'ya do t'me?" you laugh again.

"i'm magic."

"fuck outta here."

[i-can-kazoo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: The first dreamer Series: Part 1 of The Dreaming Summary:

This is a short piece of a larger story that I've been working on for some time. More characters to come.

[paperedking]

excerpts from a stageplay format jason fic that i'll probably never post

[mariande-drakaina]

So, I got another fict (Imaginative thought) that I got for y'all. This one is wholesome for the two, Kondraki and Clef. (PS: SORRY IF IT'S TOO LONG, I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS STORY.)

Kondraki goes to Clef's door, making sure he was alright. He knocks on the door, rather nicely than usual. More of those, gentle knocks. Clef answers, and scratches his eye. Clef looks up at him, having a sad but tired expression.

"I am having my mental break day and-"

Kondraki interrupts.

"Stop."

"Why?"

"Just..go and sit down. Let me in."

"Okay."

He lets Kondraki walk inside, as he puts his camera to the side. The butterflies swarm around him like usual. They then go for Clef, trying to comfort him. Kondraki, on the other hand, closes the door, grabbing his soft blanket, wrapping it around him. He then tried to give him a smile, which failed for him to smile back.

"Clef."

He calls. He's of course, worried about his buddy Clef. He's the main person he'd always check on first in the morning, then his son, Draven, then Meri. But this was serious. Clef needed some support, he needed hugs, but didn't ask. Kondraki decides to look at him.

"Look at me, Clef."

He decides to cup his face gently, looking at him. Clef looks back, but doesn't react. Clef thinks for a bit. (Why is he doing this to me? Is this..affection? Comfort? A form of..love? Whatever it is, it feels..rather nice.) He then focuses on what Kondraki's going to say next.

"Life doesn't always go as expected for one another."

Kondraki lets go of his face, and then places his hand toward his.

"If you leave things the way they are, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I want you to know that..I care about you. If anything, you're always the bastard I enjoy hanging out with."

Clef laughs a little, then, Kondraki thinks. (It's working! Now now, don't get too hyped up. It'll stay neutral that way if I do.)

"You may not know what'll happen in the future, but I know we'll have a great time together, in some sort of timeline. It's a great feeling to have. Anyway, tell me how you really feel. Telling someone how you really feel can change something. It may not be big, but it will be seen as to what the truth might unfold. You can always tell who you trust. If you trust me, tell me absolutely anything or even everything. Whenever you talk to me, it's like some story you're going to tell me. Always tell someone who you trust, not people you don't. It'll just be worse."

Clef expresses his feelings.

"I've been down, ever since the incident. I felt pain, disclosure, and feeling like as if I'm unimportant to people."

"You're important to me, Clef."

"!"

"See, despite me acting all mean and shit, you're really someone I love to..um hang out with. It's like having a brother to a..uh lover I think? Yeah lover."

Clef jolts in surprise. He..blushed! But he tried to wipe it off, like as if he had something on his face.

"Why do you.."

"Well..it's uhm..hm. How do I say this?"

Kondraki thinks for a bit, but remembers his saying.

"Well, you know that uh weird ass phrase about like friends to lovers or somethin'?"

"Yeah."

"It's basically that. When I saw you for the first time, I thought, hey! He looks well despite the intimidation, cool or somewhat like this badass shotgun user."

Clef finally smiles! He looks at him, listening.

"Go on"

"Well, I thought you were this badass, cool sadistic bastard that'll love being around some others who're like, delinquents or somethin', maybe more."

"Well, you're right about that."

"Oh, I am?"

"Yep. Though, it's limited due to the changes and stuff."

"Aha! There it is."

"What?"

"People in life can change. Either good to bad, or bad to good. We may never know who would change."

Kondraki hugs Clef. He ruffles his hair, and then..bam. He kisses him on the forehead, giving the sign of, "I love you no matter what. I don't care how angry we both are. We need each other, and it should never end."

"Clef, I'll always be here, even when I'm dead. In this world, I'm always in your heart. My legacy will always be here, when you support me."

Clef tears up and chokes a bit. He dreamed about him saying that, and it came out to be true. He visions that he'll have a great time with him, especially with going out. Kondraki smiles, rubbing the side of Clef's head.

"I love you Clef."

"I..love you too, Konny."

Well!

Good luck does seem to come around doesn't it? It always will. One day you'll experience a good amount of luck, it just will take time. You'll never know what can happen. Life can have it's ups and downs, and it'll come all around. Sometimes there's predictions, and not all comes out true. It's always best to experience the unexpected, then to experience something that's expected! Not to forget, if you need anything, you can talk to someone you trust, instead of someone who's not trustworthy. It's better that way! It'll help build trust with your friends, family, or lover. Hell, you can talk to people if you're brave enough to handle the connection! As long as they're okay with it and you included, you'll build a great connection with different people. Have a nice day and bless yourselves with your comfort plushies, food, drinks, etc! I'll be here to talk to whoever, whenever or hell, even whenever I'm free! 🖤