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tightjeansjavi · 11 days

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The Rite of Movement | part seven

“you flower, you feast”

A/N: okay, okay so this chapter took WAY longer than planned, but between my birthday traveling and work just being poop, I didn’t have any motivation. Well, the inspo hit, and it hit HARD 🤭 I’m so unbelievably happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you all enjoy it! 💘

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: what happens when Joel and Tommy Miller eat chicken wings in front of you, baby love? You start picturing yourself as that chicken wing, being split open, meat sucked clean from the bone—

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader x pornstar!tommy

Warnings: smut, consent, fluff, relationship security, established relationship, fingering, oral (f! And m! receiving) face riding, bush love! , f!masturbation, sexual tension, cock dumb, pussy drunk vibes, teasing, filth, praise kink, daddy kink go brrrrp, threesome (Joel and Tommy do NOT touch. Please don’t be weird 😭) pussy pronouns, sharing is caring, Joel’s dom side comes out to play, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader, Joel and Tommy are pornstars, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical desertions such as skin tone, height etc. NSFW, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Joel & baby love by @kenobiwanx

“Baby love, Tommy and I are gonna go run out and grab the food, okay? Probably gonna be 30 minutes tops.” Joel said from the kitchen where he was grabbing the keys to his truck.

“Sounds good!” You chirped from the living room, deep in an erotica novel that one of your followers had recommended to you. The main character was just about to get fucked into a new dimension by her boyfriend and his hot brother— “Artemis!” You giggled, scolding her softly when she jumped right onto the page you were reading and swatted playfully at the paper.

You heard Joel’s approaching footsteps alongside the couch when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips and then one to the top of Artemis’s head as you looked up at him, “think we’re gonna stop and get a case of beer as well. I’ll text ya when we’re on the way back, ‘Kay?”

You reached your hand up, curling it around his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Christ. Y’all really need to get a room.” Tommy snickered from the entryway, broad arms crossed over his chest.

Joel grinned against your lips, kissing you one last time before he reluctantly pulled away. “Shut your trap, Tommy.” He said playfully and gave Artemis a quick pet behind her ears.

“Fuck off, you twathead.” Tommy quipped back.

Joel gave him the finger and tossed the keys in his direction, “jus’ for that, your ass is driving!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He caught the keys, twirling the ring between his fingers, “be back in a jiffy, baby love!” Tommy singsonged.

You swore you heard Joel mutter under his breath, “hey, only I can call her baby love.”

You listened to the front door swing shut, and Joel and Tommy’s usual banter before Joel’s truck peeled down the driveway. You set the book down on the coffee table with the page you left off on dog eared and carefully picked up Artemis and placed her on the spot you were just sitting on with the blanket. Now that you had a bit of time to kill…what better way to spend it than getting yourself off.

Before Tommy had come over, you and Joel discussed the prospect of the three of you filming a threeway scene. Joel left everything up to you and how you wanted it to play out. You ultimately decided that you didn’t want to plan for it, and would rather have the moment be completely based on spontaneity. So, while you used one of your favorite vibrators, gifted by Joel of course, you picked one of your favorite MMF videos on the Miller-Co website to get off to. It was one of Joel and Tommy’s first videos that they filmed after leaving Brazzers. You immediately recognized the familiar couch in Joel’s garage while you settled back against the pillows of your shared bed, thighs spread, arousal and slick already pooling between your folds.

When 30 minutes came and went, Joel texted you saying that the food was taking longer than expected and that the restaurant was super busy. Usually you would respond almost immediately, but 10 minutes had gone by and you hadn’t responded to his message.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips as he typed out, you there, baby love?

No response.

“I bet she’s playin’ with her pussy right now an’ that’s why she ain’t responding. Naughty girl.” Tommy tsked under his breath as he peeked over at Joel’s phone from the drivers seat.

“Mmm…that’s exactly what she’s doin’ right now. She was reading’ some erotica book right before we left. Didn’t get a look at the page, but m’sure it was juicy.” Joel responded, sinking further against the passenger seat.

“Fuck. We gonna play with her a bit when we get back?” Tommy tapped his knuckles along the steering wheel, glancing down at time on the dashboard.

“Oh, we will be. S’what my baby love wants. She’s thirstin’ for both of us, Tommy.”

“Goddamn. Is she really? This food better hurry the fuck up then. Gonna start gettin’ impatient jus’ thinkin’ about—hey!” He let out a surprised grunt when Joel had whacked him on the side of the head.

“Patience, you horndog.” Joel scolded him.

“Call her. See if she picks up. Wanna know if my theory was right.”

“What?”

“Y’heard me. Call ‘er up. See if she answers.” Tommy reiteratedeagerly.

“Fine, fine, but she ain’t gonna answer.” Joel knew you better than that and if you were on the brink of an orgasm, you sure as fuck weren’t going to answer your phone. He dialed your number anyway, and it rang three times before going to voicemail. “Told ya. She’s too busy playin’ with herself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy scoffed.

You were on the edge of having a mind numbing, toe curling orgasm when you heard the familiar roll of Joel’s truck tires in the driveway and as soon as your mindset switched, your orgasm was delayed and frustration began to settle deep into your bones as you cursed under your breath, clicking the button on the vibrator off and tossed it to the side of the bed with a huff.

“I was this fucking close.” You grumbled to yourself, taking a moment to catch your breath when you heard the front door open.

“Baby love, food’s here!” Joel’s voice traveled from downstairs and straight up to your pulsing core. “Where ya at, pretty girl?”

Did he know what you were just doing? He couldn’t have—right?

“Coming!” You responded back, your voice wavering when you thought about the possibility of him coming upstairs and catching you like this.

Joel and Tommy exchanged a knowing look as they set the bag of food down on the kitchen table. “Take your time, sweetheart! Ain’t no reason to rush!” Tommy said with a smirk tugging on his lips.

You threw on your flimsy tank top over your head and pulled your cotton shorts over your trembling thighs with your lower lip caught between your teeth. You checked your appearance in the mirror, looking a little disheveled with a noticeable sheen of sweat coating your neck and chest. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, as you grabbed your phone from the bedside.

Joel was waiting for you at the foot of the stairs and once you were at arm's length, his strong biceps wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his warm embrace. He kissed you sweetly, one hand dropping down to grab a handful of your ass in his palm. You nearly moaned into his mouth, managing to hold it back. When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flickered southwards, zoning in on the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin and the edges of his lips curved upwards. “Sorry for the delay, baby love. The wait was longer than we anticipated.” He rasped softly.

Between his calloused palm groping your ass, and his lingering stare, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your pussy was chanting: Yes, Joel! Right here. Take us right here. Right now. Against the staircase! C’mon, big boy.

“Baby, why are you looking at me like…you wanna eat me right now?” You whispered softly to him, letting your hand curve around his bicep.

“Like I wanna eat you right now?” He mused, “Baby love, I always wanna eat you up.” He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Lemme watch f’you guys are gonna fuck against the staircase.” Tommy snickered from the kitchen table where he had already plated out his food and cracked open a beer, taking a swig from the bottle, his eyebrows raising in a mischievous manner.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from Tommy’s crude comment as images of Joel bending you over the railing and fucking you from behind while Tommy watched flooded your mind.

“Cat got your tongue, baby love?” Joel murmured, smirk still playing on his lips.

“No.” You shook your head, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m just starving.”

You were a fool to think that your temptations would dissipate as you and Joel sat down at the kitchen table across from Tommy. If anything, they were heightened when you were forced to watch both brothers demolish their chicken wings, sucking the meat right off the bone effortlessly.

They’re doing this on purpose. They have to be, right?

The longer you watched the two brothers ravenously eating their chicken wings, the damper the fabric of your cotton shorts grew. The blooming wet patch was evident, and your mouth was parched when you watched Joel suck the meat from the chicken wing bone clean off again. He twisted and split the delicate wing bones right down the middle, hollowing his cheeks slightly as he sucked the meat clean from the bone, making an obscene slurping noise in the process. He paid no mind to the figurative daggers you were sending him when he used his thumb to wipe a stray dribble of sauce from the corner of his lips and sucked it right into his mouth. The way he devoured those wings immediately made you think of the way he would mold and press you open at his leisure, mouth and tongue sloppy on your cunt, eating you like you were quite literally his last meal on earth.

“Can you guys…stop eating like that?”

“Pardon?” Tommy looked directly across the table at you, plucking the meat clean from the bone, brow raised in amusement.

“Like…that.” You reiterated and subtly squeezed your thighs together beneath the table.

“Sorry, baby love. You’re gonna have to explain what you mean by that.” Joel chimed in alongside you, taking a swig of his beer.

Your nostrils flared and your knuckles clenched tightly around either side of your chair. They absolutely were toying with you on purpose, and you were just waiting for the chord to be pulled so tight, that it would inevitably snap from the pressure.

“You feelin’ alright over there, sweetheart? Can see the sweat drippin’ off ya from here.” Tommy commented with a sly grin. “Somethin’ wrong with the way Joel and I are eating our wings?”

Yeah, well, there’s more than just sweat dripping off of me,Tommy- is what you really wanted to say.

“Feeling just peachy, Tommy. Nothing wrong with the way you guys are eating your wings.” You lied through your teeth.

“Hmmm.” Joel hummed alongside you and his freehand creeped towards your thigh, fingers flexing and you could feel his phantom touch before he even made contact with your hot skin. “Sure you ain’t…feelin’ a little frustrated, baby love?”

Oh fuck. He knows. He knows

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ for emphasis, but neither Joel or Tommy were convinced at your attempted bluff.

“You sure about that, baby love? S’okay if you are.” He leaned in, hot breath fanning your face when you felt his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs, coaxing them open. “Were you touching yourself while we were gone, baby love? Hmm?”

Busted.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, and your thighs clench from his words. You didn’t want this little game to end so soon, you were determined to build up the anticipation even further. “No, baby.” You shook your head, “I wasn’t touching myself while you and Tommy were gone.”

Tommy’s interest in the conversation was immediately piqued when you were quick to deny Joel’s accusations, and he reminded you of a predator stalking its prey in the tall grass from the way he was looking at you.

“No?” Joel pouts, tsking under his breath as he continues his ministrations. “How wet do you think she is right now, Tommy? On a scale from 1-10.” He briefly looks across the table before you feel his eyes searing into the side of your head once more.

“10, easy. She’s practically squirmin’ in her seat right now, and you haven’t even started to touch her yet.” Tommy rasped with a chuckle, leaning back against the seat of the chair. “Bet she’s so wet that there’s a damp spot right through the fabric.” He mused.

“How do you feel about his answer, baby love? Think you’re that wet right now? Think I should…have a look for myself? What do ya think I’m gonna find beneath these ‘lil cotton shorts of yours, naughty girl?”

Fuuck.

Your eyes lingered on Joel’s face, and then over to Tommy as you harshly took your lower lip between your teeth, spreading your thighs further so he had easier access to feel the heat of your core through the thin, strained fabric. “I—I think that’s accurate, baby.” You let out a huff of air through your nose, heat steadily rising up your cheeks. “You know exactly what you’re gonna find under my shorts, Joel. How about we just…skip the theatrics, and you take them off so Tommy can get a good view of my wet little pussy?”

He chuckled, leaning over the short distance between your chair and his, nudging his nose against your jaw, nipping at your skin, a growl edging up his throat, “Yeah? That’s what you want me to do, sweet girl? You wanna show my brother jus’ how fuckin’ wet you are right now? He’d love that, baby love…” he trailed off, thinking of what he was going to say next, “can’t do that m’fraid.” His lips curved downwards in a plush pout.

“Why the hell not?” You whined, feeling your frustrations begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Gotta clean my hands first, baby love.” He snickered, fully planning on grabbing the nearest napkin to wipe the wings sauce from his fingers. Instead, you took matters into your own hands, er—mouth, and grabbed his hand, swiftly yanking it towards your mouth. He watched with hooded eyes when you wasted no time to suck his thick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around each one, licking them clean, eyes locked in an intense stare with him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Tommy let out a groan from where he was sitting, unable to tear his eyes away from your pretty lips working around Joel’s fingers. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ survive this night.” He said out loud, fully intending to keep that thought to himself.

“Jus’ wait till you feel her mouth around your cock, brother. You’ll never be able to look at head the same way again after she—fuck.” He hissed between his teeth when he felt your teeth lightly drag across the underside of his fingers.

“Oh, I believe it, but m’gonna combust o’here if I don’t get a taste of her sweet fuckin’ pussy, I swear to god—”

“Yeah, and I’m going to kill both of you if someone doesn’t fucking start touching me in the next five seconds.” You mumbled around Joel’s fingers, slowly slipping them from your mouth and guided them between your thighs. “Please.” You added sweetly.

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me that you didn’t fuckin’ eat her out in your truck? Goddammit, Tommy. Who the hell raised ya, huh?” Joel tsked under his breath and with his fingers now freshly soaked in your saliva, he pressed them firmly against your covered clit. “Her pussy is the neediest lil’ thing, and you missed the fuck out.”

You pressed your hips directly against Joel’s fingers, desperate for more stimulation than he was already providing you, and even when his fingers began to slowly circle your clit in a figure eight motion, that still wasn’t enough.

“Well, I got the perfect opportunity to make it up to her, don’t I? Ain’t no time like the present!” Tommy chuckled, wiping his hands off on a napkin before he slowly sank to his knees under the table, crawling on all fours till he found himself right between your thighs, peering up at you through onyx black, thick curls that were momentarily obstructing his view. “Cus’ the way that I see it? There’s never not an ideal time to eat pussy.” He mused, shooting you a playful and suggestive wink while his big hands creeped up the expanse of your thighs and grasped the hem of your shorts.

Joel looked over at you expectantly, admiring your side profile and the way that your tongue darted out to lick your lips, pupils dilating, flickering down to Tommy’s smirking expression between your spread thighs.

“How’s that sound to you, baby love? Hmm? You want Tommy to eat your pretty little pussy out under the table? I think he wants it really, really, bad, baby.” He chuckled warmly against the shell of your ear, pausing the ministrations of his fingers just as a low whine escaped your throat at the loss of contact.

Instead of taking the route of verbally responding, you let your desire and frustration take the wheel front and center. You reached for the back of Tommy’s head, carding your fingers through his lustrous curls and yanked his face directly against your covered, pulsing cunt. Joel’s fingers moved in tandem, sliding up the curve of your body, his big veiny hand came to rest along the base of your throat, thick fingers splayed out around your neck like a necklace.

“Oh,” he cooed, “my baby wants it really, really, bad, huh?”

“Course I fucking do. The two of you have riled me up since the second you got back with the food.” You stated the obvious tension growing between the three of you.

Your eyes met his sultry gaze, narrowing into slits when he leaned in for a chaste kiss, lips brushing, fingers flexing against the thin, delicate skin of your throat. He licks into your mouth, stealing the very breath from your lungs just as Tommy greedily sucked on the damp patch of fabric, drawing the flat side of his tongue through it, groaning, hands pressing you open further, broad nose bumping against your covered clit.

“Yeah, she fuckin’ wants it. Been drippin’ this whole fuckin’ time.” Tommy mumbled between your thighs, his saliva and hot breath causing the wet patch through the fabric to bloom more. “Can I fuckin’ take these off of ya baby, please? Need to get a full look at her. Bet she’s so fuckin’ puffy n’sensitve right now.” He rasped, sucking inwards, nipping playfully at the fabric that obstructed him from seeing all of you.

Between Joel’s head spinning kisses, and his underlying possessive nature of what was his, you broke from the kiss momentarily. “Please fucking take them off, Tommy.” Words breathless, diving back into his eager awaiting mouth. You never got tired of the way that Joel Miller kissed you. It was like that of an art form, an erotic dance that would send even the most stoic faces feeling flustered just from the sight of the two of you.

His eyes peeled open briefly to steal a glance of your now bare pussy, to see your little hole pulse, drooling a trail of pearlescent slick along the wooden chair that sent both men’s cocks twitching, awakening like two feral street mutts that were just given a plated, rare steak on a silver platter; you being the steak.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” The Miller brothers murmured in unison as if they were in a trance from that pulsing spot between your thighs. You never felt more turned on in your life than in this moment under their adoration filled gazes.

Joel stole your attention once more kissing you with more ferocity when your freehand reached across the chair, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his loose shorts. His hips shifted against your palm, rolling in a languid movement in comparison to his lips on yours. He groaned freely into your mouth, wet hot breath gliding across your tastebuds, the girth of his cock growing heavier, and heavier.

Tommy spread you open further with his pointer and middle finger. He marveled at how wet you truly were, getting an up close look at just how puffy the soft lips of your pussy were getting. He wolf whistled, inhaling the scent of your arousal before he spat a thick glob of saliva right over your clit, rubbing it in with your growing slick. “Fuckin’ Christ. Wettest lil’ pussy i’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

A strained moan escaped past your interlocked lips when Tommy began to lap between your folds, jaw slack, eyes shut in pure bliss at the tangy, yet sweet taste of you on his tongue. He groaned deeply against your mound, licking from the entrance of your weeping hole all the way up to your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue in a figure eight motion, nose buried against the soft patch of curls that Joel would often lightly pet and play with. Joel loved the fact that you made the personal choice to not shave your pubic hair. (He’d love you just the same if you did, of course)

Joel’s breaths came out as soft pants against your locked lips, his kisses became more desperate when the head of his cock drooled a bead of precum through the slit, staining a wet patch through the front of his shorts. He was fully hard beneath your touch, tenting against the fabric.

“Move your chair closer to me, baby.” You mumbled against his lips, teeth lightly nipping at his lower lip eliciting a low rasp from deep within his throat to emerge, sending a warm tingle straight down to your pulsing core.

And while Tommy was off in his own little pussy drunk world, switching from focusing the movements of his tongue against your clit, to dragging it southwards, curling it inside of your weeping little hole, lapping up your sweet nectar as if he was a bee on a freshly bloomed flower. Joel wordlessly scooted his chair closer to yours, lips breaking from the kiss momentarily and when he moved his head to kiss you once more, you leaned over the side of your chair completely, eagerly dropping your face down to his spread thighs. A layer of his natural musk seeped in through your nose as you dragged your nose against the outline of his cock, listening to the sound of his breath hitching in his throat when you pressed open mouthed, hungry, wet kisses against the strained fabric.

You moaned wantonly when two of Tommy’s thick fingers slowly pressed into your tight opening, gradually sinking deeper till your walls had sucked his fingers all the way down to his knuckles.

“Oh, fuck me.” You heard Tommy mutter with a mouthful of pussy, “So fuckin’ tight, it’s unbelievable.” He shallowly began to pump his fingers, curling them against that soft spongy spot deep inside of you that had your eyes rolling back into your skull. Your hips rolled into his face, feeling the scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. Your lips moved in a frantic motion, sucking, kissing Joel’s cock through the fabric. All it took was for your eyes to flicker upwards towards his face, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering for him to give in.

“Jesus, baby.” Joel breathed out, nostrils flaring, the veins in his broad neck protruding through the skin, “ok, ok, I’ll take it out for you, my eager girl.” He hummed appreciatively, lips curving upwards into a boyish grin as he reached his hand down beneath the band of his shorts, grasping the base of his cock in his fist and finally freed himself from the confines. His cock sprang up against his stomach, and you wasted no time to drag your tongue from the base all the way up the soft, velvety skin of his girth till you reached the crown of his cock and enveloped the engorged, mushroom head around your lips, swirling your tongue across his slit to collect the bead of precum, swallowing down the taste of him greedily.

He let out a soft grunt, head tilting back slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth as he relaxed further into the chair. He kept one hand firmly grasped around the base of his cock, holding himself steady just for you. While his other hand rested against the crown of your head, gently petting your hair while a tumble of praises slipped past his lips, “Fuuck, baby love. That feels s’good.” He rasped.

You preened at your man’s praise, focusing all of your attention on the head of his cock, placing your hand on top of his, slowly guiding his fist to pump and twist around the girth of him. And when you felt that coil deep within your tummy being pulled tight, and glowing red hot due to Tommy’s ministrations, you eased your mouth off of Joel, little mewls and pants slipping past your lips as you briefly looked over to see Tommy slowly begin to press a third finger alongside the two that were deliciously working inside of you. “Fuck,” you moaned, focusing your attention back on Joel, and lovingly slapped your tongue with the head of his cock, and then your cheek, gazing up at him with those big eyes of yours, entrancing him further.

Joel loved when you gave him the sloppiest head imaginable, when your drool would run down your chin and neck, mouth and throat stuffed with his cock, pretty tears springing along your waterline because he was so fucking thick. But the sight before him now could have easily sent him to an early grave. He watched you lovingly slap your cheek with the head of his cock, blissed out, smiling from ear to ear, and he wished he had his phone right now just so he could take a picture and show you how pretty you looked like this.

“You gonna come all over his fuckin’ fingers, baby love? Get ‘em all nice and creamy? Your pussy sounds so so pretty. Gettin’ her nice and ready for our cocks, hmm?” He cooed, voice dropping down an octave as his eyes flitted downwards between your thighs, listening to the delicious squelch of Tommy’s fingers fucking you open.

“Fuck yeah she is.” Tommy chimed in, pulling his face back, his chin and beard coated in your slick. He watched the way your pussy continued to hug and drag his fingers in further with each shallow thrust. “Pretty lil’ slutty pussy fuckin’ loves havin’ three fingers shoved inside of her. Ain’t that right, babygirl? God, you should see how fuckin’ pretty n’ puffy she is right now.” He rasped, pussy drunk, cock heavy between his thighs and harder than a slab of concrete. “Let’s see how soaked you can get my fingers sugar, and then you’re gonna watch, mouth stuffed with my brothers cock while I fuckin’ suck them clean.”

“Shit.” You whimpered, rubbing Joel’s heavy cock all over your face, leaving sloppy kisses here and there, “yeah, I fucking love it so much, daddy. Feels so good! I’m so close—I’m gonna come all over your fingers, daddy.”

“Yeah you are, babygirl. You’re gonna cream all over them like the good, slutty lil’ girl that daddy knows you are.” Tommy preened, pumping his fingers faster, the muscles in his forearm flexing from the movement, lips sloppily attaching to your stimulated clit, sucking on the little bud harshly.

Joel himself wasn’t usually turned on by the prospect of being called daddy, but hearing you freely moan and come undone around his brother's fingers, and call him daddy? Well, it did something to your man and he let you know immediately how he was feeling by firmly tapping the wet head of his cock against your cheek to refocus your attention on him. “Eyes up here, pretty girl. Eyes on me. Your daddy.” He sternly rasped, lips curved in a grin, brows furrowed intently.

All time seemed to cease when Joel fucking Miller referred to himself as your daddy. Your pretty, slicked covered, glistening lips parted in shock, pupils blown wide, pussy clenching down like a vice around Tommy’s fingers. You met Joel’s stern gaze, watching the way his brow slowly arched, head mockingly tilted to the side, “Yes, daddy.” You whimpered, “I—I won’t forget.”

“Thas’ right, baby love. Keep lookin’ at your daddy with those pretty eyes. Keep ‘em on me, not him. Me.” There was an underlying possessive tone to his words and the weight they held on you. But god, you had never felt more proud of him testing out these new uncharted waters with you, playing into your kinks. You mouthed, “I love you, daddy.” Before slipping his cock right back down your throat, taking as much of him as you could till you were gagging around him, tears welling from the thick girth of his cock stretching your throat open, and your orgasm crashing through you like a freight train.

“That’s it, babygirl!” Tommy preened excitedly when your sweet pussy squeezed around his fingers, coating them in your pearlescent release. “Good fuckin’ girl. You got anymore f’me? C’mon, gimme a lil’ more of your sugar, babygirl.” His mouth made an obscene slurping sound through your folds, shaking his head back and forth while you leaked out along his fingers and down his palm. He slipped his fingers out slowly, your fucked out little hole pushing out what was left of your orgasm to which he greedily lapped it up, moaning at the taste of you.

Joel softly praised you, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, murmuring how much he loved you, gazing at you lovingly and in tandem his brain was screaming: ring, ring, ring. I need a fucking ring!

“Makin’ your daddy so proud, baby love. Did so good f’him.” He cooed, and his big palm rested around your face, slowly easing his cock from your throat and guiding you up towards his face. He kissed you sweetly, licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, cradling your face so delicately, so tenderly, you couldn’t help but moan through the kiss.

Tommy sat back along his haunches, fingers stuffed down his mouth, licking them clean not wanting any of your sweet cream to be wasted. His own cock was leaking through his shorts, desperate for any kind of touch or stimulation.

Your words fell breathlessly against Joel’s lips, fingers tangling and tugging through his soft curls, “I think your brother might have you beat, daddy.” You said half jokingly, half serious.

Joel and Tommy Miller were competitive men by nature, and whether you had meant to or not, you had just unleashed the feral, competitive beasts within them without even realizing it.

Well, as they all say,

good luck, baby love. You and your pussy are gonna need it!

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dduane · 7 months

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Judging books by their covers

Having spent the morning reading the notes on this post (and reading them, and reading them...), I realized I really needed to get to grips with a piece of work I'd been avoiding.

Some of you may remember me mentioning that the Young Wizards website's longtime ISP went out of business suddenly in July, necessitating the site's hasty relocation to a new home. In the process a lot of its internal URLs ceased to operate correctly, meaning that files weren't displaying. (As I was quickly reminded when looking for the original David Wiesner art for So You Want To Be A Wizard at 01:30 last night.)

Anyway, I just wound up spending the day rescanning book covers for the Young Wizards publication history page, and was reminded of some favorites while getting the work done. (And a note for the interested: if there's any particular cover from an English-language edition of the YW books that interests you, or you think the sight of one might jog your memory somehow, that page is where you'll find the images. Use the tabs under the header image to take you through the history of publishers and artists.)

Meanwhile, being reminded of what happened to the covers for So You Want To... alone is both funny and a bit sobering. Styles change, formats change, art directors change. Sometimes the covers get a lot better, and sometimes they, uh, don't. Look at the difference in styles alone among these, for example.

Most of the time the writer gets to take what they're given, and like it. Sometimes, though, they get to give advice.

Here, for example, is one time that happened.

This is for the UK hardcover of the first of the Feline Wizards books. The artist, Mick Posen, is a cat person... and he insisted on having pictures of the cats who inspired the NY worldgating team before he started painting. Just look at these three, especially Rhiow there in the foreground. Is this a hero, or what? :)

Here's one that caused a little controversy.

The question of the day: Is Nita wearing anything? And if so, what?

The art won Greg Swearingen a silver Spectrum Award for that Deep Wizardry painting. But he and my then-editor on the series, Michael Stearns, apparently got into it a little regarding a conflict between the text and the necessities of painting a YA cover. If I remember correctly, I think Greg was holding out for "She's not wearing anything in the text in this situation, she just turned human again after changing back from being a whale, she shouldn't be wearing anything here!" and Michael was saying "But the parents, what if we freak out the parents...!" ...Eventually it seems like some kind of compromise was achieved. Swirly light = magic, or something. (shrug) Not my problem. It's a lovely cover.

About this one I have, well, mixed feelings. At this end of time, the art looks clunky. Yet this is also my first bestseller. When the SF Book Club published this omnibus, Support Your Local Wizard quickly set records as their single most-requested item of all time for new members just signing up. Its print run ran to more than 250,000 copies, and it remained constantly in print until the Book Club itself ended.

I've always been fond of this one for Deep Wizardry, and also of the one the artist, Neal McPheeters, did for the Dell Yearling and Dell mass market paperback editions of So You Want To... . There's a solid quality to both of them, but the second one in particular, that appeals to me.

(For those in the notes on that other post who reacted immediately to Kit's antenna: This is one of the reasons why it features—along with one of Nita's wands from the rowan tree Liused—on all the covers of the revised/updated Young Wizards New Millennium Editions. I've seen a lot of memories jogged by its appearance.)

...Do I have a favorite favorite one of all these covers? As usual, it's hard to pick. But I have to admit that I smile, at the moment, when looking at this one—Greg Swearingen’s art again—since in a couple of weeks it'll be the fortieth anniversary of So You Want To Be A Wizard's publication.

We'll see what the publisher does for the fiftieth. :)

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards series #covers

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

Text

Welcome to the blog of international bestselling author, Joy Demorra, aka, the Crucifix Nail Nipples Editor.

This is my personal blog where I commit word crimes.

If you're looking for my chronic illness and disability advocacy posts, or you want to block them (fair), the tag I use is #chronic health tag.

You can also peruse my FAQ.

My international bestselling debut romance novel, Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites (Phangs), is out now and available in eBook, Paperback, and Audio.

Set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust. Phangs has been described as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and no amount of marketing buzzwords I say can ever top that.

If any of that sparks your interest, you can:

Buy the (high heat) Flirting With Fangs Edition Here.

Buy the (medium heat) Fluff and Fangs Edition Here.

Why are there two versions and what's the difference between them? Glad you asked! You can also check out individual content tags and heat ratings on my website at www.joydemorra.com

If you've seen my dog, Holly Mop, trending around the place and would like to see more of her, her tag is #holly mop. You can also now follow her blog at @holly-mop; we just use it to upload pictures.

Other places you can find me online include: Ao3, Twitter , BlueSky Pillowfort, and Instagram. If you like what I do and would like to see more of it, you can support me on Patreon, Ko-Fi, Payhip, or through my Throne Wishlist.

You can also find me hanging around Twitch on Sundays, where I co-host @theayesphere podcast with @ayeforscotland and sometimes play games. Feel free to come hang out; we're always happy for new people to natter with.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading and happy scrolling!

Additional image IDs under cut due to length.

First image ID: A picture of TV presenter John Oliver holding his arms wide with a sardonic expression saying, “Welcome to whatever this is…”

The image is surrounded by a gradient rainbow frame.

Second Image ID: A promo image showing the two different book covers for Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites side by side. One is blue, one is red. Both show three characters juxtaposed in a bisexual parody of the "distracted boyfriend" meme.

At the top, white text stands out against a purple/blue gradient. It reads: Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Book one of the Hunger Pangs Series.

Beneath that it lists qualities of the book: queer paranormal romance, vampire x werewolf, gaslamp fantasy, mutual pining (the love is requited, they're just idiots), slow burn and happily ever after, for now….

The bottom line of text reads: both medium and high heat versions available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

The image is surrounded by a rainbow gradient frame.

Third Image ID: A small tan and white Shih Tzu with dark eyes looking directly into the camera with her tongue hanging out. She looks like a teddy bear.

The image is surrounded by a rainbow gradient frame.

#pinned post #hunger pangs: true love bites #chronic health tag #holly mop #links #alt text provided #described

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sebastianstanisahotmf · 3 months

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First 'date'

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Sorry for not being active I've just been spending time with friends and family but I'm back now! Also, this is going to be a series but idk how often I will update it.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary You and Bucky go on a first 'date'

DO NOT REPOST ONTO ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so nervous. You were getting ready for a date with James (or Bucky as he tells you to call him.) You met him on a dating app and were texting for two weeks before you decided to go on this date.

As well as feeling nervous, you also felt excited to meet Bucky. He seemed so sweet over text and judging by his profile picture, he was the hottest guy you had ever seen.

You could only hope he was like this in real life.

“Can I come in now?” your friend, Ella, shouted from the other side of your bedroom door.

“Yeah,” you shouted back.

Your so-called ‘date’ was more of a meeting at a coffee shop so you were wearing a slightly oversized shirt, your favourite jeans, and a pair of black sneakers. You had minimal makeup on and your hair was styled in a way that made you feel confident.

You and Bucky are anxious people and agreed that a coffee shop would be a much more calming environment when meeting each other for the first time.

“Do I look ok?” you asked Ella.

“You look amazing y/n!”

“Really?” you questioned.

“You're going to a coffee shop, not a Michelin-star restaurant,” Ella told you.

“Ok,” you took a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

You grabbed your bag off your bed and made sure you had everything you needed.

“I'll see you later,” you told Ella.

“I'll see you later if you don't end up getting laid.”

You rolled your eyes and left the apartment you shared with Ella.

The coffee shop was a five-minute walk away so you weren't in a hurry to get there.

—------------------------------------------------------

Once you got there you scanned the shop and your eyes landed on the man sitting at the table in the corner. You could only see the back of his head but he was dressed in all black and that's what Bucky told you he wore.

You cautiously approached him so as not to scare him.

“A-are you Bucky?” you asked.

The man turned around and smiled at you, “I am.” he replied.

“Thank God, if you said no I was gonna be so embarrassed,” you walked over to the chair across from him and sat down.

“How are you today?” he asked, cringing at the question.

“I was a little nervous earlier but I feel better since you seem to be in a similar state,” you responded with a chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

“Just a little bit, but you don’t have to feel bad about it,” you assured him.

You looked at the table where his hands were resting. You noticed the black gloves but didn’t say anything, you knew who he was but weren’t sure if he knew that and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You didn’t see him as a bad person or a villain. You did your research on him a while back and you could’ve never blamed him for his actions, he didn’t have control of himself at the time.

He seemed so genuine and kind, nothing like the monster the government made him out to be. You started to speak about how your week had been so far and you thought it was funny how Bucky spoke about his friend Sam who he seemed to love and hate at the same time.

“Do you want to order now?” he asked you.

You just nodded in response.

“If you want I can order for us,” Bucky offered.

You told him your order and thanked him for ordering for you. He got up from his seat and walked over to the counter to order. He told the barista the drinks he wanted and paid. As he was waiting for the drinks he looked over to you and smiled.

You returned his smile and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You tried to calm your nerves by looking at your lap.

A few minutes later, Bucky returned with the drinks and sat back down.

“Thanks,” you told him, “you didn’t have to buy my drink for me.”

“It’s the least I could do doll,” he told you with a smile.

You both continued to get to know eachother even more until the barista came over to tell you that closing time was in 5 minutes.

“So I guess that’s the end of our date,” Bucky chuckled, “ I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Hey, don’t put your self down, I had a good time,” you gave him a small smile.

You said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

-----------------------------

As you walked through the door of your apartment, you were bombarded by Ella.

“So how did it go with Bucky?” he wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“It was really good, I hope we can go on another date, maybe to a restaurant next time,” you told her with a smile on your face.

Ella squealed and pulled you further into your apartment.

You were about to go into the livingroom when you heard the notification sound on your phone go off.

“Who is it?” Ella inquired.

“It’s Bucky,” you replied, clicking on the notification, “He wants to go on another date!” you almost shouted with excitement.

“Fuck yeah, my bestie is finally gonna get that D.”

“Calm down, you’re more excited about me having sex with Bucky then I am,” you laughed.

The rest of the night was spen watching movies whilst eating snacks and telling Ella everything about your ‘date’ with Bucky.

If you want to be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link

If you want to see what I repost, my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:

@nicoline1998enilocin @buckys-wintersoldier @kenzs-world @booscherripop @hisredheadedgoddess28 @kandis-mom @cutedisneygrl

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ribbonstrawberrysurprise · 5 months

Text

TMM Character Bios over All Versions

At long last, my collection of TMM bios, both transcribed and translated.

Sorted by source here. Sorted by person here. Collection of pictures of chara bio stickers, mostly from (expired) auction/sale listings online here.

List of sources:

Manga-related:

Manga character info page: that page that appears at the beginning of each volume of the manga. Very short. Does not change over time (with one exception), so sometimes it doesn't highlight the character's main personality trait…

Manga character info page (a La Mode): Same as above, but for a La Mode. Only appears in volume 2. (Note: Re-Turn does not have one of these)

A La Mode Intro Boxes: the little character bio charts that Berry and Tasuku get in A La Mode chapter 1

PS game manual: manual from the PS game. Contains the most direct ages for all characters and the only info on game-exclusive characters.

2002 Anime-related:

Profile stickers: square stickers with a picture of the girl on the front and a little chart of character info on the back. Comes in 2 distinct styles: One with a headshot of the character inside a heart on the front and the back printed in the character's theme color, and the other with a sparkly full-body shot + closeup of their head on the front and the back printed in red/hot pink.

2002 Anime Fanbook: artbook/fan guide for the original anime. Character pages have 2 taglines, a short bio, and a chart containing information similar to the stickers. Not well edited, so there's some inconsistent formatting/punctuation.

2002 Anime Insert from the TMM New Artbook: small section on the original anime within the New season 1 artbook. Character pages have a tagline, a short bio, and a chart containing information almost identical to the 2002 fanbook. The text for the bios are similar to the 2002 fanbook, but with more kanji and some editing for consistent style.

TMM New-related:

TMM New website character page: page on the official TMM site that has designs, birthdays, and short bios for all major characters. The one source that lists Seiji as a major character.

TMM New season 1 artbook: artbook with background information on season 1 of New. Only contains info on what appears in season 1, but the 2002 insert has spoilers for that whole series. Character pages have a tagline and a short bio which is very similar but not identical to the bio from the website.

If you want to see some of my thoughts on the info here + interesting changes/differences I noticed, that's below the cut!

It's obvious the original anime was aimed at kids and the new one is aimed at adults because sources related to the original manga and anime use lots of kana instead of kanji and have furigana on all kanji they do use. New-related sources use way more kanji and have no furigana.

Possibly related to this, older TMM stuff tends to use ミュウプロジェクト (Mew Project) vs New, which uses 「μ」プロジェクト (μ Project).

The original TMM fanbook has spotty editing which is especially visible in the charts. There's lots of small inconsistencies, like some words being spelled slightly differently (e.g., らっきょ instead of らっきょう for Pudding's least favorite food) and punctuation being inconsistent between the girls (e.g., items in lists being separated by interpuncts ・ except for Pudding's special skills, where it's inexplicably a comma 、). The biggest, most glaring issue is actually with a section I'll be posting slightly later, but I'll go ahead and list it here too: out of all official sources, the TMM Fanbook is the ONLY one who lists the Mew Mews' attacks as begining with リボン (ribon) instead of リボーン (riboon). This would be conclusive evidence in the Ribbon/Reborn debate if I didn't have the suspicion it's just a typo no one double-checked…

The stickers are in a slightly weird place continuity-wise since they have anime art on the front but refer to some manga-only information on the girls (e.g., Pudding having a pet monkey).

Speaking of the monkey, apparently at the time the stickers were coming out, Mia Ikumi had yet to finalize Annin's name, since here the monkey is called Mapo (i.e., mapo tofu)

The sticker bios have some otherwise-unseen info on character backstories: specifically, we find out that Mint's dad is a CEO and her mom runs a school, Zakuro's father is a producer and her mother is a model, and that Keiichirou is an orphan taken in by the Shiroganes at age 14. Also, apparently Ryou lives in the room above the cafe and Keiichirou lives in the secret basement.

Keiichirou seems to get way more impressive intros as time goes on. The manga bio comically undersells him, calling him "a waiter", and the PS game book only calls out his cooking skills, although Masha's bio drops the bomb that Keiichirou's the one who built him for Ryou. The 2002 fanbook mostly makes a point of how considerate he is, in contrast to the 2002 insert in the New artbook, where he's explicitly referred to as a researcher on cryptids/UMA. The New bios on the website and artbook go one step further and call him a "leading" researcher in the field!

Moe and Miwa's personalities seem to have changed or even reversed between the OG anime and New. Originally both Moe and Miwa are mostly defined by how they react to Ichigo. I.e., Ichigo says/does something weird (usually related to Mew Mew stuff or Aoyama), then Moe calls her out and Miwa either plays peacemaker or ends up joining in with Moe. So Moe snarky, Miwa gentler. New attempts to give them goals/personalities outside of this, so Moe becomes a "soothing" person with an interest in psychology and Miwa becomes a practical aspiring writer. I can only assume the writer thing is based on her writing Keiichirou a poem in the one episode where she and Moe get crushes on him and Shirogane, but I have no idea where Moe's career goal came from, much less how she became the "nice" one… I have to assume it's from her cutesy name??? Or maybe they thought that the one with blond curls looked "nicer/gentler" than the brunette with very short hair??? Weird.

The girls + Masaya (and Seiji, who is now in college so that he remains an older brother!) are aged up for New, but Ryou still seems to be the same age, which kind of makes the whole situation much funnier. Ichigo already had zero respect when he was slightly older, but now he's basically just one of her classmates. …of course, there's still room for him to be 16-17 instead of 15…

Sidenote: Ryou is consistently referred to as shonen/boy, which strikes me as funny despite making sense for his age. The narrator also doesn't respect him. Keiichirou gets seinen/young man, which trends a little older.

Ichigo gets referred to as ドジ (doji) in the '02 Fanbook which made me double-take since I'd usually associate it much more with Lettuce… I'd usually translate it to "clumsy", but in this case it's clearly going more for ditsy, flighty, disorganized, etc. so I went with "scatter-brained". The New bios do call Lettuceドジ, and I just used clumsy there.

Buling knowing kenpo/martial arts sure shows up more than I expected considering how little relevance it has to the actual show…

Zakuro, at least in the '02 anime, is supposed to be good with computers apparently! It shows up in her Fanbook bio as well as in one of the stickers (hobby: the internet). The internet being framed as a cool and mysterious thing for a smart character to know feels very 90s to early oughts, so maybe that's why it got dropped from her New characterization once everyone has smart phones… Saying someone's hobby is "the internet" reads more as neet or maybe influencer nowadays, as opposed to Cool Hacker or whatever. But I guess you could argue this is precedent for he inexplicable technological/manufacturing skills when she helps Minto make the prototype windmill thing?

In the stickers, there's a split between the Mew Mews favorite foods vs favorite sweet, but later on the sweets get lumped into favorite foods, which is how it's listed in the Fanbook and '02 Insert. But this does obscure the fact that Lettuce is the only one of them who just straight out has sweets as her favorite foods (shortcake, crepe cake), probably related to the fact that "cooking" and "making sweets" are listed as her special skills. 煮物/nimono (boiled or stewed food) is only added to her list of favorites in the Fanbook.

Weird that we never see Tasuku and Buling interact since he's explicitly compared to a monkey lmao.

#Tokyo Mew Mew #Tokyo Mew Mew a La Mode #Tokyo Mew Mew New #Ichigo Momomiya #Minto Aizawa #Retasu Midorikawa #Buling Huang #Zakuro Fujiwara #Ryou Shirogane #Keiichirou Akasaka #Masaya Aoyama #Translation #Meta #sort of

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chellestrash · 10 months

Text

Private Matters

Chapter IV (18+)

Cam Boy! Frank Castle x Female Reader

Story summary: After stumbling upon a cam website one night you quickly discover your favorite streamer. Unable to get the thoughts and images of him out of your mind you decide to become a supporter and the two of you grow closer to each other over time. Things get complicated when your close friend, neighbor and crush decides to express his feelings for you.

Chapter summary: Its finally the day. Your date with Frank is happening and you couldn't be happier. Everything is perfect...right? Well, everything except for a very small detail you can't get out of your head, and you're not sure how to tell him.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol, slight angst.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thank you for all the support for this series i’m so so sorry it takes me so long to get the chapters out! I work, I’m busy i had a lot to do but it’s finally here! Chapter IV. I hope you’ll enjoy it, comments, reblogs and feedback are always so so appreciated, i love reading what you guys thing about it! Thank you @chelseasdagger for all the work and support!

Date with Frank.

That’s the first thing on your mind the moment you get out of bed that day and the main thing on your mind throughout the morning. It didn't really seem like one of those things you could shove to the back of your head and not think about it for the rest of the day. Whether you liked it or not, you kept coming back to the moment he asked you, and the moment you agreed. Your friend mentioned she couldn't possibly tell which one of you looked happier about it, and that little detail she was kind enough to point out, made your cheeks get warmer every time your brain reminded you about it.

“Stupid.”

You mumble out, catching yourself getting more excited about this than you'd like to admit.

“Morning.”

You send a quick text to Frank and the reply comes in almost instantly.

“Hey! Today still happening?”

You catch yourself smiling at your phone and quickly clear your throat, attempting to shake off the excitement again.

“Yeah, haven't changed my mind since yesterday.”

“Okay, good, can stop worrying now.”

“Frank castle worried? About me?”

You chuckle at his short response.

“Shut up.”

“So you have anything going on today?”

He follows up before you can type out an answer.

“Oh, just this date later on, probably around 8? You don't know the guy, you wouldn't like him. His name is Frank?”

“...”

“Smartass.”

You feel the butterflies in your stomach as you picture his slightly annoyed expression, and then roll your eyes at your own feelings. Sitting here, smiling at the texts on your phone? Really?

“So 8?”

He asks, and you send another message confirming the hour.

“See you at 8 then?”

“See you at 8.”

You smile again before grabbing your cheeks to fight back the smile.

“Stop it!”

You fight with yourself for another moment before setting your phone down on the table and deciding to take care of everything that needs to get done, just so you wouldn’t have to think about other things during the date. A little favor for your future self.

***

The day goes by relatively quickly, and before you know it, it’s time to start getting ready. You pick an outfit—nothing too fancy but not too plain either, a nice pair of flattering pants and a slightly tight-fitting shirt. You’re only grabbing a couple beers, some drinks…with Frank…your Frank. The realization makes you feel gradually more tense as the time approaches 8pm. You feel thankful when your phone goes off and quickly check the text that just came through.

“Leaving my place now.”

You read and chuckle at the thought of Frank, your next door neighbor, texting you the moment he leaves his flat to let you know he's on his way…in the hall, to pick you up.

Seconds later, Frank knocks on your door and you quickly make your way over to let him in.

“You got my text?”

He asks, pointing at his phone, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know so I'd have time to get ready.”

Frank smiles, and something in that smile makes your knees a little weaker. His outfit is similarly casual to yours, jeans and a shirt you haven't seen him in before. Did he buy it?

“Oh, you're so welcome.”

Frank's eyes glance over you as he looks you up and down, unable to stop himself.

"Shit."

He whispers and you frown.

"That bad, huh?"

"What?"

Frank asks, confused, almost worried.

"You said ‘Shit’."

"What? Oh! Shit no! No no, no no just- I-I you-"

He sighs, dropping his head low before glancing up at you.

"Listen, I just - think you look great...it slipped out."

"Mhm."

You nod with a smile, deciding to stop teasing that poor man, at least for now.

"So do you, Frank."

"Naaah, not next to you."

Shaking your head again, you grab your phone and quickly check yourself in the mirror one last time.

“You ready?”

Frank nods and takes a step to the side, getting out of your way to let you out of your apartment.

“Yes ma’am.”

It would be a lie if you told yourself you never wondered what a date with Frank would look like. You never really thought it would actually happen, but you did wonder, you couldn't help it. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you've thought about him in that context. You had ideas, but you'd never think it would feel this…natural? Comfortable?

Frank seemed a bit nervous at first, just like he did a couple of days ago before actually asking you out, but that didn't bother you. You were nervous for a moment at first too, but quickly relaxed as the conversation flowed, the jokes landed and the music at the bar worked for both you and your date.

Frank was, actually, probably one of the best dates you've had in a while. Not sure why you'd expect anything different, you knew how good of a friend he was. The whole evening he looked after you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. His eyes never left you as he listened to your stories, answered your questions and laughed at your jokes.

The laugh reminded you of something, something or someone you couldn't really work out at that moment, but it sounded familiar. Not familiar in a way that you've heard Frank laugh before, of course you did, but…there was something more to that familiarity. Since you couldn't work it out, you decided to ignore it for the time being, focusing back on the man on the opposite side of the small bar table.

“You come here often, then?”

Frank speaks out a bit louder than usual, trying to talk over the live music, after looking around the interior of the place.

“Why? Wanna ask me out?”

You smirk, sucking the straw from your cocktail into your mouth. You watch his head drop with a loud laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that.”

“Ahhh… I don't know if you're my type.”

“Oh really? What's your type, then?”

Frank looks up, waiting for you to keep talking.

“Oh you know, big guys, scary looking, assholes…you know what? That sounds a bit like you?”

He scoffs, looking off to the side, shaking his head before looking back at you.

“Really?”

You nod, a big smile still on your face.

“Yeah, but it's fine. Like I said, that's kinda my type.”

Frank smirks, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?"

Your mouth falls open and he laughs loudly, you follow soon after.

"Well...I’d say pretty damn well, managed to get you out."

"Oh, you got me out?"

"Mhm."

You continue to tease him.

"Oh, that's interesting, yeah, that's good to know."

"Yeah?"

You ask innocently, and Frank laughs quietly, the crinkles by his eyes so prominent when you make him smile. He raises his hand to order another beer for himself and a drink for you.

***

“So, what's your type?”

You ask when Frank gets back from the bar with drinks for both of you.

“My type?”

You nod quickly, curious.

“Don't really have one.”

You give him the look that can only mean a slightly disappointed “really?” and he quickly continues.

“Why'd you wanna know? Wanna ask me out?”

He plays your card, and you feel your whole face lighting up.

“I don't knoooow, maybe? So, will you tell me?”

Frank takes a drink from the beer bottle and for a second you get lost in the way his lips wrap around the rim, his Adam’s apple moving with every sip, and you have to stop your thoughts from taking you somewhere else. He frowns, knowing you well enough to assume you wouldn't just give up on the question.

“Right, tell you what.”

He starts, scrunching up his nose before he bites into his lip. He spins you around, so you face the dart board on a wall on the other side of the bar.

“You win that, you get an answer “

You think about the offer and look back at him over your shoulder.

“Bit of a shitty move since I already told you mine.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a big smile, before giving you another moment to decide.

“What if I lose?”

You ask and he shrugs.

“You buy the next beer.”

You pretend to ponder on the offer for another moment before nodding slowly.

“Deal.”

***

At the end of the night, Frank offers you his jacket and you two make your way back to your building. Walking right by your side the entire time, Frank makes sure to keep your arms linked together. By doing this, he keeps you close, safe and warm the entire time. You think back to the many times you've walked this road on your own and feel thankful for having Frank by your side at this moment.

“Want me to walk you home?”

He asks when you stop by the door to his apartment out of habit.

“You mean to the other end of the hall?”

You point over your shoulder, and he tilts his head to the side with that goddamn smile. The smile that can make you so comfortable and so nervous at the same time, you feel insane sometimes.

“Yeah, okay, I could get jumped on my way there or something.”

You turn around and Frank follows, hands in his pockets, his shoulder touching yours as he walks by your side.

“Or trip.”

He points out, and you huff out a quiet laugh.

“I didn't drink THAT much.”

You lean on your door, resting your back against it and look up at the man in front of you.

“So.”

You nod towards your apartment.

“This is me.”

“Oh yeah?”

Franks inspects the door like he's seeing it for the first time.

“Mhm.”

You wait a moment, expecting him to start talking again. But Frank turns back to you, stepping forward, a bit closer now, looking down into your eyes. You feel your heart jump slightly, your pulse getting a little faster as your eyes drop to his lips before glancing back up into his gaze.

“Listen the-"

He starts, his brows furrowing as he tries to pick the right words.

“Was nice…the date, I mean I-you.”

He sighs. Looking off to the side, he shakes his head at his own words, before turning back to face you.

“You had fun?”

A simple question followed by a slight tilt of his head that makes him look probably the least intimidating you've ever seen him look. Almost like a puppy, trying to figure out the words spoken to them by their owner.

You nod, confirming your answer with a sly smirk.

“I meaaaan…could've been worse, you did good, Castle.”

“Yeah?”

Frank asks, and you catch him now glancing down at your lips.

“Mhm.”

You nod, it's gentle this time, and your lips part slightly as you decide to lean closer towards him.

“And you? Hmm?”

There's no real reason to ask now, not when you can clearly see the words fly over his head. A silent nod from him remains your only response as the distance between you two closes slowly.

“Mhm.”

He answers, and you chuckle, squinting your eyes as you lean your head to the side, now taking the lead in the conversation.

“Yeah?”

You nod, questioning him again, and Frank repeats your movements. His eyes are not leaving your lips; yours not living his, as you two move closer and closer together.

“So, do you-”

He starts, and you agree silently, your breathing speeding up as you feel your heart pounding harder in your chest now. Leaning back on the door, you hand the key over to Frank, and he unlocks it before pushing it open the moment you pull him into the kiss.

“Shit.”

Frank mumbles out your name, pulling you closer to him before kicking the door shut, his hand now resting on the side of your waist.

“You sure about this?”

“Frank, please?”

You mumble against him and feel his lips pressing against yours almost immediately. His hand rests on the side of your neck, his fingers brushing over the side of your jaw as he holds you close to him.

“Oh, shit”

He starts.

“Mmm.”

A quiet hum slips past your mouth as you feel his tongue pushing past your lips.

“Mmm, fuck-”

You whine despite your better judgment. Your hand drops between his legs and you rub over the bulge in his pants. Frank's hips push into your hand, and when you push your palm against him harder, his lips slip away from you. A loud grunt against the side of your neck.

“Shit, Sweetheart.”

The pet name almost makes you whine out loud, but you attempt to stop yourself as your thoughts conveniently send you back to one of the livestreams you've watched before.

Your eyes shoot open, and you shake yourself out of it, glancing down at Frank. His lips are still on your neck, making it easier to focus on him again.

You cup his face to tilt him up and Frank stands up, straighter in front of you now. Pulling you closer to him again, his lips find yours, and you two stumble towards the couch in the middle of your living room. Frank hooks one arm around your waist, his forearm and palm pushing against your back, before lifting you up.

You gasp, holding onto him as he sets you down on the couch. You lay on your back, your heart speeding up and your breathing shortening as you watched him unbuckle his belt. Your legs push together while your brain once again reminds you of a similar scene from one of the livestreams. You fight the urge to close your eyes and focus on the thought and, instead, reach out to gesture for Frank to come closer.

“Come here.”

You whisper under your breath, and Frank lets you pull him closer. Leaning over you, he spreads your legs open, pushing his thighs between yours before his hand holds your face again and the kisses resume.

Pushing back the guilt slowly rising inside you, you focus on the buttons of Frank's shirt, pushing your legs together slightly as you feel the weight of him grinding against you.

His hands slip under your shirt and you lift your arms up, allowing him to slip the fabric up and off of your chest. After tossing the shirt onto the floor, Frank quickly gets rid of his as well. His eyes jump around your face, and you fight the urge to avoid eye contact for a while before finally looking away.

“You okay?”

He sounds concerned, and his question makes you feel even worse. You can't explain it, not now, not here. You're not even completely sure if you'd be able to explain this properly if he wasn't kneeling between your legs with his cock hard against his pants, panting loudly as he waits for your answer.

You nod quickly, giving him a not-so-convincing smile, before scolding yourself in your own head.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You buck your hips up slightly, and Frank watches you move underneath him. The smile is gone now, so you assume he suspects something. With his hand brushing up and down the side of your body, fingers drawing on top of your ribs, he leans over you, his lips right on your neck again. You tilt your head off to the side, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he follows. Attempting to help yourself focus on what's happening, you cup his face in your palm and tilt it up, kissing him fast and hard, hoping it'll help.

Why couldn't you just focus on this? Why did he have to somehow remind you of those moments you've seen before? Why couldn't you just stop your brain from making you think about the guy from the website? You weren't sure, but you knew you wanted this now, here, and with Frank. You did it; you've been wanting to for a while now, but somehow something didn't feel right. The guilt you felt about letting your mind slip to another guy while Frank was right here with you didn't allow you to focus on this moment, on what was happening, on what was in front of you, and on him.

You still wanted this; you felt good, you wanted Frank, but with your thoughts racing through your mind faster and faster, you felt your body gradually shutting off.

“Frank?”

You pull away quickly. His lips move down to your neck and he hums against your skin. You tilt your head back and whine quietly at the feeling before the guilt hits you again.

“Frank, stop just-”

You start again, this time pushing on his shoulder slightly to get his attention, and he pulls away immediately. Raising his hands in the air with an apologetic expression and worried glance, he stops everything he was doing.

“You okay?”

The softness of his voice makes the guilt skyrocket, and you feel the need to apologize.

“I'm sorry-”

“Hey, no, no, don't you-”

Frank sits up on the couch, moving away from you in order to give you as much space as you need in case he did something wrong, overstepped a boundary, or hurt you.

“Did I-”

You don't give him a chance to finish the question, not being able to think about him blaming himself for this.

“No! No, no, Frank, oh my god, no it-”

Hiding your face in your hands, you attempt to calm yourself down. The whole situation feels so ridiculous that you don't even know how to begin to explain it to him.

“God no, Frank, it's only my fault.”

“No, sweetheart, don't-hey, listen to me if I-”

That goddamn pet name. He swallows hard, and you watch his eyes flutter across your face.

“I-I-I hurt you.”

“No, Frank.”

“In any way.”

He continues, speaking over you.

“If I did, you just tell me, okay? Just, just tell me, so I know what I did and what-”

"No, it's me! It's me, Frank, I-"

He looks up, letting you talk this time. You speak loudly, thinking through the words you're about to say in an attempt to explain this ridiculous situation and the heavy, guilty feeling now stuck right in the middle of your chest.

“There's a guy.”

You swallow hard, knowing how dumb that sounds considering what the “guy” does.

“I talk to... sometimes I...I don't know why this is so stupid.”

“A guy?”

Frank repeats your words. He doesn't sound angry; he doesn't really sound like anything if you think about it.

"Yeah, I don't even know him like that, I mean, I do, but I…”

“From the bar?”

He attempts to guess, and it catches you slightly off guard.

“What? No, oh MY god, NO?”

You give him a disgusted look, shaking your head, and he scoffs quietly. The atmosphere seems to be loosening slightly.

“You think of me that bad, Castle?”

You joke, and he just shakes his head softly.

“So…”

You proceed with your explanation.

“A guy I talk to sometimes and we…”

You look at Frank, hoping he'd understand whatever broken-up sentences you manage to throw at him, even though it seems nearly impossible.

“Hook up?”

He guesses again, wrong.

“...No!"

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me something."

"It's just like...phone, video stuff, I guess.”

You finally get it off your chest. Feeling fucking terrible about the whole thing, you stare down at your hands, picking at your fingers as you wait for him to say something, anything.

A scoff. A scoff and a loud giggle is what you get. Turning your face in his direction immediately, you find yourself unsure of what to say or how to comment on his reaction.

“Phone stuff? Jesus… Christ, you...had me thinking."

You can't believe him.

Your jaw drops at this man's audacity, and you have to stop yourself from commenting on it.

“What? I had you thinking, what?!”

“Thought it was something serious!”

He laughs, and so do you, still unable to believe him.

“You asshole!”

You push him, and he leans to the side slightly before moving back closer to you.

“Oh my god.”

You cup your face in your hands and take a second to question all your previous life choices that somehow lead you to this very moment.

“You probably think I'm fucking crazy.”

You finally speak up, turning your face slightly to watch him.

“Nah.”

Frank shakes his head before turning to face you.

“I think it's sweet.”

You can't stop the smile. The corners of your lips rise as the overwhelming tension and anxiety leave your body, and you both sit in silence for another moment.

“Sorry I fucked this up.”

You speak quietly after a moment of silence. A deep sigh follows as you rethink what you just said, feeling the guilt take over your mind again.

Frank frowns, his eyebrows pull together as he silently disagrees with your words.

“Fucked what up?”

“The day? The evening? The date?”

“You didn't fuck up more than me. Late, spilled the beer, lost at the goddamn darts.”

You cover your mouth, but the quiet chuckle slips past your fingers at the situation from only a couple of hours ago. Frank quickly turns to face you, his finger pointing right at you in a threatening way.

“Don't.”

He whispers, and you lift your hands above your head, attempting to prove your innocence.

“We won't talk about that.”

He mumbles under his breath, frown still on his face, and you nod with a smile.

“I promise.”

The tone of your voice makes the corner of his lip lift slightly before he turns to face you again. His features are softer now, there's no sarcasm or irony, just Frank. He sighs quietly, and so do you.

“You should rest.”

He speaks quietly. It's not a whisper, but it feels like one, quiet and gentle, comforting, and you watch as he stands up, leaving you alone on your couch. You second guess your choice to tell him all of this one more time, longing for him to stay a little longer before quickly pushing yourself off the couch and following him to the door. Frank zips up his pants, buttons his shirt and steps out into the corridor. You stay hidden behind the door since you chose not to cover yourself with your pants after you two stopped making out. Everything indicated that he's leaving, he's out of your apartment now, the date is over, this didn't work out and yet…the conversation continues.

You stand in the doorway, your quiet words fill the corridor with the floor both you and Frank live on, but they're not loud enough for anyone to understand them clearly. Not loud enough for anyone to interrupt. The conversion quickly turns into short chuckles and gentle laughs and when Frank glances up at you with that one smile, you feel yourself breaking apart.

“You want to…stay over for a bit longer, actually?”

You ask, and he shakes his head with a quiet scoff.

“I don't know, you got beer?”

“Wine.”

He nods.

“What kind?”

“Rosé.”

You answer, fighting back a little smile as he pretends to be impressed.

“Oh, shit! Hardcore stuff.”

You shake your head, visibly offended, and pull the door open some more, inviting him back inside.

“At least if we get hammered, I don't have to walk far.”

He points out, and you roll your eyes jokingly, your body relaxing as you sigh deeply, relieved.

You spend the next couple of hours on your couch with Frank. It's not awkward, it's not upsetting, it's not…disappointing and somehow neither of you mention or even think about what happened in the same spot not even hours ago. With a decent amount of alcohol in your body, the tiredness slowly begins to take over. You lean into Frank, resting your head on his shoulder, and he doesn't protest. He even sits up slightly and wraps his arm around your waist in an attempt to make you more comfortable. With the heat of his body right beside you, you let your eyes fall shut, unable to fight the tiredness any longer.

“You wanna…try the date thing again some other time?”

Exhausted from the anxiety, adrenaline and alcohol, you snuggle up into him and without the energy to accidentally mess this up, you answer with exactly how you honestly feel. You whisper out a quiet- “Mhm. I’d like that.”.

“Yeah?”

Frank slowly rubs your shoulder with his palm.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Frank feels his muscles relax under the weight of your body. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head before whispering -“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

taglist

@chelseasdagger @lorilane33 @dreadfulxives18 @5thelement @desert-fern

@joybabyjune @ohgodthebogisback

@barnesbabee @babeincolor @liadamerondjarin @therashslingingslasher @lostfleur

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle au #marvel #jon bernthal #private matters

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cowpokeomens · 5 months

Text

Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact.

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok.

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink.

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it.

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again.

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen.

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?”

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted.

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea.

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at-

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly.

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.”

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if.

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower.

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him.

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion.

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.”

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain.

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.”

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.”

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands.

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer.

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?”

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.”

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone.

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine.

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark.

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working.

So maybe this would.

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly.

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp.

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?”

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing.

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt.

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident.

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours.

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously.

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately.

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated.

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense.

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.”

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact.

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.”

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper.

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices.

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin.

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic.

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you.

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed.

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets.

You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded.

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said.

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him.

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you.

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly.

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct.

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though.

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in.

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing.

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you.

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible.

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch.

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you.

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.

#nicholas ruffilo rpf #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x reader #bad omens smut #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo smut #nocturnal creatures

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manyworldsofdarkness · 3 months

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What is CURSEBORNE?

This might be of interest to any World of Darkness or Chronicles of Darkness fans or any fans of Onyx Path Publishing and White Wolf in general. We could be getting a new urban fantasy horror game series soon.

On April 10th, 2023 Onyx Path publishing’s blog brought up a hypothetical of making their own urban fantasy game series. Of course this was in response to their lack of any new WoD or CofD products as they do not own the rights to those IPs and must have approval by Paradox before working on anything. Currently Paradox is more focused on supporting their v5 products with their in house studio, Renegade Games and are no longer contracting other studios to right supplements for them for the foreseeable future. Because of this, the 20th Anniversary World of Darkness games and Chronicles of Darkness lines aren’t getting any new releases and what has already been announced and put into production are the only things to release in the near future. The only way for Onyx Path to make more urban fantasy horror games is to make their own and while they only mentioned this as a possibility, the comments section of this blog post exploded into discussions over this new potential game.

The next few blog posts afterwards continued the discussions asking people what they would like to see in a new potential horror game, such as a Masquerade system or signature characters as the comments sections only further spawned more discussion over this new world. Around this time too, Onyx Path announced their new unified version of their in-house system called Storypath Ultra, which should go without saying but will definitely be the system this potential game will be using. Then about a month later, on May 19th, on the official Onyx Path YouTube channel, this video was released https://youtu.be/fL1VPUzoB_Y?si=cR4ZPeb0wf9Kt6mM

youtube

A short seven second long animation of a murder of crows flying against a snowy tree line and the word “CURSEBORNE” forming as they all fly away. A short, mysterious teaser? Well for the next eight months Onyx Path would release a total of 30 videos of similar nature as of writing this post. Strange and short vignettes of classic horror tropes such as fog, spiders and recordings of monsters. Some would even be rereleased with minor differences and even text. I recommend watching some for yourself, there is a really eerie vibe to some. These capture more “modern” horror vibes when compared to WoD or CofD, some even feel inspired by analog horror or urban legends, the “Train” short particular reminds me of Japanese urban legends. Blog posts more or less stopped mentioning this potential game as time went on and mentions were then replaced with a strange picture of a moth, the same one at the top of this post.

On January 31st, 2024, 7:00 EST this website appeared https://www.curseborne.com/

CURSEBORNE, the title in all of those videos. The website has no text, just images of the same moth from the blog just posted all over a black background. Some will slowly fade in. Clicking on them will lead to a new page featuring one of the many teaser videos playing in your browser. Going back to the homepage, you’ll see a moth that appears to be glowing when compared to the others. Clicking it sends you to a Typeform quiz asking “Who are you?”. Answering it gives you a strange title such as “Raptor”, “Gaki”, “Archivist” etc. with a description of how you act. If I’d have to guess, these titles could be the names to new monsters or factions in CURSEBORNE. I’d like everyone who’s interested to please take this quiz and post your results on this post to see how many titles, or “paths” are found.

In short, it looks like Onyx Path is gearing up to make a new urban fantasy game using their own system. It’s not going to be World of Darkness with different names, but its own unique take on the concept.

#curseborne #World of Darkness #chronicles of darkness #onyx path publishing #white wolf publishing #TTRPG #Youtube

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

Text

Prey!Series - Part Two: Mentality - OA Zidan x Reader

Tagging: @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @kilikonakapamana @yezzyyae @redpool @stxrryswvrld @district447 @soultrysworld

Prey!Series:

Part One: Trafficking - It's during a human trafficking case that Omar meets you.

There’s a wealth of information that Omar doesn’t know about human trafficking, and he discovers that the longer the case goes on. He doesn’t think of himself as naïve; he has an awareness of it, he’s read the literature, but he isn’t prepared for the extent of the misery, the impact of it.

The two of you are standing in the JOC, in front of the huge array of screens. On the first screen are the images of the girl’s visas from the employment agency. Every single one of them is fresh faced and hopeful. On the second screen are the images from the ‘Just4Johns’ website. They’re sultry boudoir images, lots of flesh on display. The text written across each picture invites the johns to come and play.

It's the eyes that get him, the deadness in them. Every single ounce of their hope has been stolen away, depleted. Omar doesn’t understand how a man can look at any one of these women and not see that they’re being coerced.

He raises it with you when the two of you sit down for lunch together. This case is moving a million miles an hour and there’s barely time to sit down and eat. He’s graciously loaned you the corner of his desk because it’s an all hands on deck situation and there isn’t space anywhere else. The two of you are crowded in close, his knee bumps against yours for the umpteenth time and he apologises yet again. You give him a look and a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“The men that are paying for sex with these women, they have to know that they’re raping them.” He says as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. The case is making him sick to his stomach but logically he knows he needs the fuel, so he persists.

“They don’t see it like that.” You tell him, opening your pack of chips and tilting it towards him. You’re a sharer, he’s learned. Food, stationary, mints. If you’re having something, you offer him one too. It’s the sign of someone who’s used to caring for others. “To them they’re paying for a service, it’s no different from hiring a plumber, they’re taking care of a need. They choose not to see the reality of it. They don’t question where these girls came from, or why they’re there, it’s a transaction to them.”

It makes Omar think back to that night in Germany, a few guys had come back to base late after visiting a brothel. He’d never reported it, they were shipping out to Iraq a few days later. What’s the harm he had thought at the time. It was a couple of months later they’d heard the place had been raided, every single one of those girls had been trafficked.

There’s shame in him when he tells you that story. You can see it in the slump of his shoulders, the way he hangs his head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d reported them or not.” You tell him, leaning forward so that you’re within his proximity. The scent of your perfume floods his senses as he looks into your eyes. It’s something floral with a hint of nectarine, it reminds Omar of walking through the park in spring. “Stuff like that isn’t in the militaries purview.”

Your hands come to rest on his, his own are clasped together as he peers up at you with sorrowful dark eyes.

“It’s not on you.” You reassure him, your thumbs ghosting over the grooves of his knuckles. “I think this case is throwing up a lot of things that you haven’t had to deal with before and that’s ok, it’s a bad one, it’s jarring but you have to learn how to compartmentalise that otherwise it bleeds into your personal life.”

“Yea.” He says, bowing his head. “I have three sisters; I keep thinking about what you said back at the hospital about it being one in five…”

“It might not be any of them.” You remind him and he swallows hard against the ache in his chest before clearing his throat and pulling away.

“Yea.” He says quietly, his palm rubbing over the line of his jaw. “That’s what I’m praying for.”

***

It’s the basement that gives Omar nightmares, he sees it in his dreams for months afterwards. Filthy, stained mattresses all pushed together in order to maximise the space. The bedding is unwashed, tossed carelessly across them. The whole place is damp, he can feel the moisture in the air as he listens to the sound of the droplets impact the concrete.

The reality of what these girls endure is staring him in the face and it’s harrowing, it makes his stomach twist because no one should live like this.

It’s the wall that breaks him, the one out back next to padlocked exit. The cream paint is peeling but it’s the only surface that even closely resembles a canvas. The girls have drawn all over it, there are hundreds of images, depictions of their hopes, their dreams. Some of the drawings are more childlike that others and it’s those that hit him the hardest.

“Is it paint?” He asks you, his voice rough as he studies the wall.

“No. It’s make up.” You say quietly, the back of your hand brushing against his. “They used the only thing they had.”

His fingers capture yours and he finds himself squeezing your hand tightly because this, this is too much. He can feel their anguish seeping through the walls, their horror, their suffering and something inside of him just breaks. He doesn’t realise he’s crying, not until he tastes the salt on his lips.

“I know.” You say softly, your thumb chasing over the hollow of his wrist. “I know.”

Love Omar? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#oa zidan #fbi cbs #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x you #omar zidan x reader

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jlf23tumble · 2 years

Note

https://jlf23tumble.tumblr.com/post/688273787134869504/which-gq-article-jen-ur-tag-on-the-german-boy

Lmaoooooo how the fuck are you sure about he slept with two people? I know completely different things sweetie 🤭:))

Me, too, sweaty, what i said was that in an article written ten years ago, that's what he said (and I quote my own damn self, "make of that what you will")

#i'm deffo not one of those 'they never broke up' weirdos #and i personally believe (have heard!) that harry styles fucks!#websites are a series of text and pictures #god i love it when people who clearly don't follow me try to come in here and tell me what i'm about #and it's all because they're no doubt lurking on someone else's terrible blog

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 8 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 20

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC Smut & Language- Minors DNI New as of 9/11/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: "I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

My entire morning was dragging after finding out about the TMZ article and Instagram post. I could feel the staff's eyes on me and hear the whispers. Everyone knew about it. Once I had a minute to myself, I sent Dieter a text about everything. That was two hours ago, and he still hadn’t answered. I had a feeling he was dealing with a shit storm of epic proportions. The longer I went without hearing from him, the more anxious I felt.

As my final meeting was coming to an end, I saw a notification pop up on my phone. Normally I wouldn’t check my phone during a meeting, but I needed to hear from him.

DIETER: Sorry it took me so long to respond. This morning has been crazy. You want to come over to my house when you leave work? I’m meeting with my manager and publicist.

ME: Yeah, I’ll come straight there.

DIETER: Just a head’s up... TMZ is about to post an update. They have info on you. They are refusing to keep it under wraps. We tried everything. I’m sorry.

I sighed heavily and let out a quiet “fuck” under my breath. Everyone sitting near me looked in my direction. Aubrey had heard it too, but she continued speaking as she gave me a concerned look. I opened the browser on my phone and hit refresh on the article. There were multiple updates posted since earlier this morning. Several ‘sources’ had indicated that Dieter was under the influence of some unknown substance during the confrontation, which they said was related to concerns over his current relationship. They had also added a screen shot of this morning's Instagram post. Another ‘source’ raised concerns about his current mental health status due to his unusual behavior the last few months.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose where a deep throb was forming. This was so ridiculous and blown out of proportion. Who were they even talking with to get this information? I hit refresh again. Sure enough, there was a new update. They had my picture from the company website along with all sorts of details about me, including where I worked. I exhaled slowly as I leaned back in my seat. Aubrey was just wrapping up the meeting. While everyone filed out of the conference room, she and Kerrie walked over noticing that I was upset. When they asked what was going on, I didn’t say anything. I unlocked my phone and handed it to Aubrey.

Aubrey’s eyes grew wide as she handed the phone to Kerrie.

“Wow. That didn’t take long, huh?”

“Where are they getting this information? It’s not even accurate.”

“There is no telling,” Kerrie said as she returned my phone.

“I should probably go before the paparazzi show up here.”

I quickly walked back to my office to gather my things, then headed out the back door toward my car. I noticed there were already a couple of people across the street milling around with cameras. I kept my head down, walking in the opposite direction toward where I parked. I managed to make it out of there without being noticed.

I arrived at Dieter’s a short time later, without incident. When I keyed into the front door, I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. I paused to take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.

“This is fucking ridiculous. Where are they getting their information? Someone that was there with Anna has to be feeding it to them.”

A woman’s voice spoke up, “D., you were yelling. I’m sure anyone seated around you could have figured out what it was about.”

“Yeah, but what about these sources? It’s all total bullshit. I swear, it sounds like Ann...”

I sat my bags down on the couch before walking into the kitchen as Dieter was speaking. He was leaning against the counter, until he caught sight of me. He stopped mid sentence, walking over to hug me tightly and immediately started apologizing.

“Stop apologizing. It’s fine. I’m ok.”

He pulled away as he moved his hand to cup my face. He gave me a questioning look, trying to decide if I was being honest or not. He seemed satisfied with what he saw before leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. He reached down to grab my hand and led me further into the kitchen to where the man and woman were sitting at the kitchen table. He then introduced me to his publicist, Elaine, and his manager, Ty.

Elaine was probably in her late forties. She had blonde hair swept up into a neat bun. She was dressed business casual, but there was something elegant and genial about her. Ty seemed to be around the same age. He had dark hair with a hipster vibe about him. His face was very smug and judgy. Something about him was already rubbing me the wrong way.

As Dieter introduced us, Elaine gave me a warm smile and shook my hand. Ty on the other hand, looked me up and down before saying, “I would love to say I’ve heard a lot about you, but he has told us absolutely nothing before today.” He followed that statement with a tight smile before turning his gaze to Dieter in an admonishing way.

“That’s not accurate. I told you about her a long time ago. I just didn’t share intimate details because my personal life is my business.”

“Yeah, until it’s not,” Ty shot back at him.

Elaine jumped in, “Ok guys, let’s not argue. Let’s just figure out how we’re going to deal with this, please.”

“D., I’ve got to ask… you swear you're not using again? Be honest. We can’t help if we don’t know.”

Ty glanced over at me as he spoke. Almost like he wanted to see my reaction.

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked that in front of your lady,” he added.

My eyes were focused on Ty. I could feel the intense look forming on my face. I knitted my brows together and tilted my head slightly as I tried to read his body language. That was exactly his intention. Was he testing us or just trying to be an ass?

“It’s fine, Ty. She already knows everything,” Dieter said as he grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. He could sense that I was on edge with this guy. He gave me a comforting smile before turning back to Ty.

“I can’t believe you’re really asking me that. I’m completely clean. I didn’t even have any alcohol to drink last night. Neither of us did.”

“You’ve been so secretive lately and haven’t really been in touch with us unless you have to be. I’m just making sure. We don’t know what you’ve been up to,” Ty replied.

“I’ve been on a fucking break. Here. Staying out of trouble like you told me to do.”

I was starting to get annoyed with Ty’s line of questioning. He was being very negative. I felt the need to say something.

“For what it’s worth, I can vouch for him. He’s been working really hard at getting his shit together and he’s been doing great. Truly. We’re together the majority of the time, so I would know if he was doing something like that.”

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Ty asked. I narrowed my eyes at him in response. He waved his hands and shook his head in a way that said ‘never mind’ before continuing, “Look, I don’t know you. No offense, but for all I know you could be feeding him lines of coke off those pert tits of yours all the while telling us everything is hunky-dory.”

I had to bite my tongue. I nodded my head as I gave him a tight smile and exhaled loudly. Dieter braced for my response, but I didn’t give one. I wasn’t really sure how to handle this situation.

Elaine interjected, “Ok, that’s enough Ty. Stop being a dick.” Ty gave her a sarcastic smile before leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms.

“Look D., I can tell by looking at you that you’re clean. Don’t listen to him,” she added.

I turned to go grab my laptop and phone off of the couch, then walked toward the back door. Dieter gave me a questioning look. I couldn’t stay in here with this guy for another minute.

“I’m gonna go sit out here and work until you're done.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re in my life now. I don’t mind if you're involved in these discussions.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” I raised my brows at him. He knew what I was saying. I was going to lose it on this guy if I stayed. He gave me a tight nod in understanding.

I exited to the back yard and walked over to sit under the canopy of the rounded daybed to avoid the afternoon sun. I propped myself up on several outdoor pillows and stretched my legs out before getting back to work on my laptop. It was hard to focus given the day’s events. My thoughts were wandering as were my eyes. I couldn’t help glancing toward the glass doors. I could make out Dieter’s dark figure pacing around the kitchen, gesturing with his arms as he talked. Based on his mannerisms, he seemed frustrated. I felt that too.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the back door opened. Dieter came out carrying a takeout container and two bottles of water. He sat everything on a nearby table before crawling up the daybed toward my right side. I slid my laptop off to the left, giving him space to hover above the right side of my body as he leaned in for a lingering kiss. He pulled back slightly as his eyes roamed over my face.

“Lunch is here. Gotta make sure you don’t get hangry.” I chuckled.

“Thank you. How is it going in there?” He sighed as he sank down to lay his head on my chest. His right arm reached around and hugged me tightly.

“It’s going. I think we’ve settled on releasing a statement. Elaine is drafting it now. I’m not cool with people thinking I was under the influence. That’s the part that bothers me the most, aside from them posting all the details about you, obviously.”

“Can I ask you about that Instagram post?” He groaned.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you before I did that. I was hell-bent on making a point.”

He raised his head to look at me. He had a fierce look in his eyes, “I meant it though. I don’t need anyone but you. You’re kinda it for me and I don’t care who knows. They can all fuck off if they have a problem with it. I hope you’re not mad about it.”

“I’m not mad, but a heads up would’ve been helpful. I had to find all this stuff out from my assistant and boss as soon as I walked into the office this morning. Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve found it to be a turn on, actually. But, the whole public side of everything just adds a weird layer to it, you know what I mean?”

“Shit, mi vida, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think that through. It was impulsive. I shouldn’t have done it.”

He scooted to sit upright, then pulled me into a hug. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck while he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. He began to run his fingers through the back of my hair.

“I’ve never been in an actual relationship, so I’m probably gonna fuck up… a lot. I’m asking for a little grace in advance because I’m not really sure how to navigate all this. But... I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

I pulled away, reaching to cup his cheek as our eyes met.

“We’ll figure it out together. You just need to make sure you’re communicating your thoughts and feelings with me, ok?”

He shook his head in agreement before reaching to grab my hand that was resting on his cheek. He held it as he turned to kiss the palm. Then he leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. His tongue quickly found its way into my mouth for a moment. He pulled away, giving me a deep gaze. His eyes were now hooded with desire.

“I better get back in here before Ty comes looking for me.”

“I don’t think Ty is a fan of me.”

“Ty is a dick. He’s also friends with Anna, so there’s no telling what’s going on in his head.”

“Oh, is that gonna be a problem?”

“Possibly. We’ll see.”

I gave him a concerned look. He responded with a tight small and raised eyebrows before moving to get up and walk back toward the house. As I watched him, my eyes were drawn to the two silhouettes in the kitchen window. Elaine and Ty had been watching us.

I suddenly felt like our private moment had been violated. Then again, I should probably get used to that. The quiet world we had been living in was quickly crumbling around us. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that we were about to be tested. My only hope was that we could handle it.

I moved over to the table with my laptop so that I could eat as I continued to work. However, that was soon interrupted by my cell phone ringing. It was Lauren calling. She must have finally gotten wind of what was going on. As soon as I answered, she was in full interrogation mode.

“What the actual fuck is going on? What is all this stuff on TMZ? And that Instagram post? What the hell happened in Sonoma?”

I quickly filled her in on all the details as I nibbled at my lunch. I could feel my chest tightening as I relayed the events from the previous night.

“Well, I’m happy you both finally stood up to Anna. She is such a bitch. I can’t believe she said that shit. It’s so fucked up. It’s almost like she was trying to get that kind of reaction out of him.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain that was the exact reaction she was shooting for. She knows how to push his buttons, unfortunately.”

“Should we be concerned about his reaction? He’s never been like that before, right?”

“Not that I’ve seen. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t concern me a little. He wasn’t responding to me initially, but I think he was just trying to focus on staying calm.”

“Yeah, hopefully that’s all it was.”

Lauren and I ended our conversation after that with promises for the two of us to get together soon. It felt like we hadn’t spent any quality friend time together in ages, and I hated that. She had seemed less engaged lately, blaming it on being short staffed at the shop. I briefly found myself wondering if she had something going on that she wasn’t sharing. It would be unusual for her to keep something from me though. I wasn’t sure if I had the mental capacity to think about that too much at the moment, so I dismissed the thought.

Soon after hanging up with Lauren, Aubrey called to check in and see how I was doing. She told me to take the following day off to try and relax after the madness of today. She also told me to work from home for the next little bit until things calmed down, noting that guys with cameras were hanging around the building. All I could do was apologize. I felt awful that my place of employment was having to deal with this mess too, but she was having none of it.

“Talia, after what I saw in here with you two yesterday, I can’t bring myself to care. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that happy or content. It is what it is. We’ll handle it.”

I could feel myself getting a little emotional. Tears started to form in the corners of my eyes. She was always more supportive of me than she needed to be. I had to take a moment to steady my voice before responding.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Hopefully it will blow over quickly.”

After hanging up with Aubrey, I sat staring at my laptop, completely disassociating for a time, feeling like my mind needed a break. I was soon brought back to reality by the sound of footsteps. When I glanced up, I was greeted by Elaine’s approaching smile.

“Do you mind if I join you for a few minutes? Dieter and Ty are on a conference call with the studio. I don’t want to be in on that one if I can help it.”

“Uhh, yeah, sure. Have a seat,” I motioned to the seat next to me as I moved the empty food container out of the way.

She sat down beside me, still smiling before she continued, “You work for Aubrey, right?”

My head snapped back toward her, eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah…how did you…”

“We have friends in common, so we’ve spent a lot of time together. I didn’t realize who you were until I read that article. I’ve heard her say a lot of really good things about you.”

“Oh well, small world.” I gave a timid laugh. I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“You know, I was with Dieter during a few meetings in New York. He seemed different, even then. I’m pretty sure he was enamored with you the moment you met.”

I couldn’t help the look of disbelief that came across my face, “I doubt that.”

“I’m serious. I mean, he’d been trying to straighten his life out for some time, but something changed after that trip. He seemed a lot more focused and determined. I think that had a lot to do with you.”

I couldn’t help the half smile that crept across my face. If I was honest, I think I was probably enamored with him before we even said a word to each other that first night at the bar.

“I’ve been working with Dieter since the beginning, and I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. I can see that he’s in love with you. I think you’re good for him. So, ignore anything Ty says. He’s blind and also a dick. If you need to throw some of that sass at him that I’ve heard so much about, do it. He needs to be put in his place every once in a while.”

I chuckled. Of course, Aubrey had mentioned that. It was the thing she loved most about me. I could always say what she couldn’t. As far as Elaine was concerned, she was definitely earning some points in my book. I felt like she was being sincere and meant what she was saying. I was happy to find that Dieter had at least one decent person on his side.

“Thank you. I probably needed to hear that. I’m happy he has you. Everyone else I’ve met so far, aside from his family… I’ve just not been impressed. I can understand why he feels like he doesn't have enough support.”

“It’s not the easiest industry to work in. Especially when you have things going on like he does. I’m happy he found someone from the outside that he can trust.”

We were interrupted by Dieter sticking his head out the back door to announce they were off the call. I decided to give up on work for the day since I couldn’t concentrate and had made zero progress. I gathered up all of my things and followed Elaine inside. Elaine and Ty didn’t stay much longer after that, thankfully.

Dieter made a point to set his phone to ‘do not disturb’ after they left. He was over it all and looked exhausted. He flopped down on the couch. I followed, squeezing in between him and the back of it, cuddling into his side. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. Both of us sat in silence for some time before he spoke up.

“I’ve been asked to go see my therapist tomorrow. I’m a little pissed that Ty has no confidence in me.”

“How involved is he with that stuff?”

“Not really that involved. He just likes to make sure I’m going regularly. He doesn’t know the details of anything.”

“Well, maybe it's not a bad idea. This week has been a lot for you. It couldn’t hurt. I can take you if you want. Aubrey told me to take tomorrow off. I can pop in to visit Lauren at the shop while you’re there.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I’d like that.”

We spent the rest of the evening on the couch together catching up on some of our shows and enjoying each other’s company. It was a nice end to the day given how it had started. It was exactly what we needed to recover from the drama.

When the alarm went off at 7AM the next morning, Dieter was not there. I sighed when my fingers met with the cold sheets on his side of the bed. As I lay wondering how long he had been awake, he came walking into the room wearing nothing but gym shorts and carrying a cup of coffee. He handed it over to me as I sat up.

“Despierta, bella durmiente.”

I squinted at him in confusion, “What?”

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he repeated in English with a smirk.

“I don’t know about beauty. I’m pretty sure I look like a hot mess.”

I could tell my hair was sticking up in every direction after having Dieter’s hands tangled in it for an extended time the previous night. Even though we were both worn out, we still had the need to partake in some stress relieving activities before sleep took us. It was becoming part of our nightly routine at this point.

He rolled his eyes at me, “Whatever you say, mi amor.”

I smiled at his response. I understood that pet name.

“I happen to like the wild sex hair look, it’s a good reminder of our late night activities,” he added with a playful smile and a wink before walking into his closet.

“I probably need to run to my house to grab some clothes.”

“I should just give you space in my closet so you have some things here for days like this.”

He walked out and threw one of his band t-shirts at me to wear. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is that right? Are we those people now?” I huffed out a laugh.

“Just trying to make your life a little easier babe,” he replied with a flirty grin.

“I guess this means I shouldn’t make you live out of a gym bag at my place anymore then.”

I gave him a teasing look as I took another sip of my coffee.

“I mean, it would save me from all the wrinkles and it’s the polite thing to do.”

He shrugged as he sat down on the bed beside me with a toothy smile on his face. I reached up to slide my hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He briefly paused to take the coffee mug out of my other hand and sat it on the nightstand. Then, he lifted the comforter and crawled underneath it, hovering above my naked body to settle in between my thighs.

As he kissed down the crook of my neck, he reached down to my folds, rubbing gently. He groaned when he felt how wet I already was for him. He inserted two fingers painfully slow as his thumb found the bundle of nerves at my center. His touch caused a sudden jolt of heat to radiate through me. I arched up toward his mouth, which had found its way to my breast. My hands twisted in his curls as he kissed and sucked every inch of me that he had access to, causing me to climax quickly. It was amazing how well he could work my body into a frenzy. I didn’t understand it, but I welcomed it without hesitation every time.

He continued to shower me with soft caresses and kisses until I came down from my high. My immediate response was to reach for his shorts and shove them down his hips far enough to release the hardness I could feel pressing against me. As soon as he was free, I lined him up with my entrance. He responded by slowly sinking into me for the first few thrusts. He abruptly switched to hard thrusts in, all the way to the hilt, but pulled out ever so slowly. With each thrust in, I could feel my muscles quiver slightly. Ready to be taken over the edge again. A small whimper escaped my mouth every time he slammed into me. This pace was maddening, and he knew it.

“Fuck, I’m so close. Stop teasing me. Please,” I managed to cry out between moans.

“What do you need, mi amor. Tell me.”

I could feel his warm breath against my ear as he spoke in a low, sensual tone.

“Faster… please.”

He acquiesced by gradually increasing speed, but still thrusting just as hard. It didn’t take long after that. I quickly came undone around him. He followed soon after, burying his face into my neck. Muffling the low grunts that were escaping his lips.

He hovered above me with his head leaning down toward my chest for several minutes, trying to catch his breath. When he raised it to look at me, I reached for his face and ran my thumb down his plump bottom lip as we looked into each other's eyes. Taking in the shared emotions of the moment. Our time together only seemed to be getting more passionate. It was a miracle to me that we could handle it. I took that as a testament to how much we had both evolved emotionally.

“We really should get in the shower, or else I’m gonna be late.”

I nodded in agreement before giving him one last kiss. He pulled himself out of me with a small grunt, moving to get up. He discarded his shorts on the floor before he walked toward the bathroom. I followed behind to join him. Showering together was becoming pretty routine at this point too. Any chance we got for bonding time, we took full advantage of.

We both had to rush to get ready so that he wasn’t late for his appointment. I didn’t have time to stop and get fresh clothes, so I ended up wearing my skinny jeans from the day before with his t-shirt. Luckily, I had a spare pair of comfy sneakers stowed away in my car.

He was quiet on the way to his appointment, seeming somewhat anxious. He had his right arm propped on the passenger side door with his hand fisted under his chin as he looked out the window. His left hand sat on his thigh while his thumb rubbed back and forth against the other four digits non-stop. I reached over to grab his left hand, entwining our fingers together, hoping it would help calm him. I wasn’t sure that it did.

I pulled up to the front door of his therapist office to drop him off. He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss before exiting the vehicle. I really hoped his session went ok. I wasn’t sure how much more he could handle this week.

After dropping him off, I made my way over to Lauren’s shop. I needed to pick up some supplies, but also wanted to visit with her if she wasn’t too busy. However, when I got there, I was informed that she was taking the day off because she wasn’t feeling well. I found that to be odd. I tried calling her as I wandered down the painting supply aisles. She didn’t answer. I sent her a quick text.

ME: Hey, stopped by to see you and they said you’re out sick. You ok? Need anything?

I didn’t get an immediate response back. Maybe she was asleep? Weird.

I continued browsing for another twenty minutes or so. Finally, my phone pinged.

LAUREN: No, I’m good. Just sleeping it off.

That’s it. Nothing else. Typically, she tended to overshare the gory details. Something had to be going on with her. I felt like I needed to talk to her about it.

I gathered up the remaining items that I needed, then headed toward the checkout counter. I still had some time to kill before going to pick Dieter up, so I decided to run by his favorite smoothie place to pick something up for us. When I got there, it was fairly empty. However, I could feel eyes on me as I stood in line. I glanced around and noticed a couple of girls sitting in a booth looking my way like they recognized me. Geez. I felt like I needed to resort to wearing a hat and sunglasses like Dieter often did. I made a point to turn away from them so they couldn’t see my face. Luckily, I got our order fairly quickly after that and hightailed it back to my car.

I made my way back toward Dieter’s therapist office. I managed to find a parking spot nearby to wait. He still had about ten minutes left. To kill some time, I pulled out my phone to scroll through social media. As soon as I opened the app, I checked the one message alert that popped up. It was from Kerrie. She shared a picture of me at the smoothie shop that had just been posted by a fan account. There was a second picture of Dieter wearing the same t-shirt at some point in time. So they take inventory of his clothing too? And I had literally just left the place.

“Fucking hell. This is so ridiculous.”

I shook my head, closing the app without reading any of the comments. I didn’t want to know what they had to say. Just as I threw my phone down on the middle console, I saw Dieter walking out of the building, briefly stopping to pull out his phone. I assumed to check in on where I was. I quickly pulled out of the parking spot to meet him.

He had an irritated scowl on his face as he got into the car and shut the door a little harder than necessary. I stuck his smoothie in front of his face, and he softened some as he took it from me. He turned, giving me a small smile before sticking the straw in his mouth. I took a minute to pull out onto the main road before I spoke, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but did everything go ok?”

He was quiet for a time as he continued to work on his smoothie. I could tell he was thinking about how to respond.

“He wants to make some adjustments to my medication. The med provider agreed, so I’ve gotta go pick up some prescriptions.”

“Why does he want to do that?”

“Because I’m still having trouble sleeping and the anxiety is getting worse. They’re trying a different sleeping pill and different dosage amounts on the other stuff. I know it’s just because I’m leaving to film soon. It’s got me a little amped up. I really don’t wanna be dealing with medication changes on top of that. It tends to mess with me until I adjust.”

I didn’t really know what to say. I reached over to grab his hand in comfort. He spoke up again, directing me to one of the local pharmacies so he could pick up his prescriptions. I parked and started to grab my purse, but he told me I could wait in the car. Before he got out, he grabbed his hat, sunglasses, and earbuds. His ultimate “don’t talk to me” look. He reached in for his drink before shutting the door. I watched him walk toward the main entrance with his head down. He looked defeated and I hated it for him. He still had a long road ahead of him.

It took a while before his prescription was ready since they had just called it in. He finally came shuffling out the doors forty-five minutes after he went in. He was immediately approached by someone shoving a camera in his face. I could tell he was annoyed, but still smiled and chatted with the guy as he walked. I assumed it was paparazzi since they were clearly recording the entire interaction. When Dieter got to the car and opened the door, I could hear the guy yelling my name and asking how I was today. I mustered a small smile and wave as Dieter shut the door.

“I guess our quiet little bubble has burst, huh?”

“Yep. Welcome to my world.”

He gave me an annoyed look as he put his seatbelt on. I backed out as the guy continued to film. We were both beyond ready to go home.

During our remaining two weeks together, we spent as much time at home as we could. Dieter enlisted his assistant, Rylee, to pick things up for us as needed. She was a sweet girl and seemed like a genuinely good person, which I was thankful for. She had a lot of spunk and a fun personality, with brightly colored hair to match. He was going to need that while he was away. He was going to need all the help and positivity he could get.

As his departure date neared, he was clearly getting more anxious. He tried to keep himself busy preparing for the role during the hours that I worked. Our free time was spent wrapped up with each other, locking the rest of the world out. It was the only time he seemed to relax in the slightest.

Since his change in medication, there were some days he felt terrible. He started having intense headaches and nausea almost immediately. The doctor insisted that was normal the first few weeks, which was frustrating for him. He was worried it wouldn’t stop before filming began, adding an extra layer to his anxiety. It did seem to be happening less as the days went on, but that did little to ease his fears. It also didn’t seem to be doing much to remedy the issues for which he was taking them, further frustrating him.

In an effort to keep his spirits up, we started planning our trips to see each other. The first trip would be three weeks after filming started. I would be spending a week with him while he worked. He had a scheduled three-day break four weeks after that. Which meant he would fly back home during that time. By then they would be getting into filming out in the middle of nowhere, so we decided to play it by ear at that point because of my work schedule. I had hoped that having those planned visits would give him something to look forward to. A positive distraction to focus on rather than the negative thoughts he said often plagued him.

The morning that he was set to leave, he was a scattered mess. His thoughts were all over the place. He was jumping from one topic to another as he rushed around to make sure he had everything he needed. I felt like he was doing everything he could to not focus on the fact that he was leaving, which was probably a good thing. Both of us seemed to be avoiding that topic directly.

Rylee was traveling with Dieter, so she showed up around an hour before their car arrived to take them to the airport. They went through several checklists to make sure he was all set. I was thankful for that because I had no idea what all he needed. It also helped to keep him distracted.

Before we knew it, their car was out front waiting as they hauled their luggage out. We kept our goodbye brief with a tight embrace and passionate kiss, all while avoiding direct eye contact and not saying a word. We both knew if we lingered too long, one of us would break down. I didn’t want to stress him further, so I knew we needed to avoid that at all costs.

As soon as his car was out of sight, I lost all composure. I couldn’t help it. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it was making me nauseous. I was worried about how he was going to handle this. As I sat on the couch trying to pull myself together, my phone pinged.

DIETER: Love you, mi estrella. I miss you already.

ME: Love you too. I’ll be with you again soon enough. Call me if you need me, please.

DIETER: I promise I will. I’ll text you when we land.

After I calmed down, I turned off everything and locked his house up. I decided to go back to my place for now. I needed to distract myself. When I got home, I went straight to my craft room and started a new project, a painting for Dieter. He had mentioned multiple times that he wanted me to paint one for his house. I felt like this would be the perfect distraction.

I had an image in my mind that I wanted to recreate for him. A reminder of our most intimate experience, but also a reminder of a happier time from his past. I started by covering the canvas with the brilliant colors of the rising sun, before moving on to the more symbolic images that would serve as the focal point of the piece. The images were slowly beginning to take shape as I blended the dark wood colors with gold, green, and white. I got lost in the project, my emotions finally going numb and thoughts going blank as I had intended.

A/N: Hopefully this chapter wasn’t too much of a mess. My concentration has been all over the place this week for whatever reason and it was a struggle.

Anyway, so there we have it. The fallout from the very public argument with Anna. How we feeling about that? Do you think it will create any problems for our lovely couple? Did your feelings change about the Instagram post after their talk? What are your thoughts on the new characters? Do we think something is going on with Lauren, or is Talia overthinking it?

Dieter has officially left to film, which is what everyone has been dreading. How do we think everything that he is currently dealing with is going to affect him? Any predictions on how this is about to go?

What about Talia’s painting? Any predictions on what it might be?

So many things to ponder in this chapter!

I am issuing a warning now. Things are going to start getting a lot rougher going forward. There is going to be some extreme drama and angst building until it finally hits a breaking point due to a major event that’s going to be pretty heart wrenching for everyone. So, be prepared for the crazy journey ahead.

Mood board for this chapter is included below in case you missed the teaser. 😉

Next Chapter

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @cakipy-blog @pedrostories @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury

Let me know in the comments below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal #dieter x ofc #dieter bravo fic #Destiny & Deliverance Series #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo x ofc #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal Fanfic #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #the bubble #pedrostories

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yourlocalghoulette · 2 months

Text

Chapter 2~ Take On Me

Series Masterlist~ Main Masterlist~Meet the horses~

Warnings- eventual smut so MDNI! pretty much just fluff, reader has trauma, language, slow burn, flirting, relationship building

w/c: 3k

A/N~ part 2 is hereee! im literally so excited to be writing this story. part 3 is already in the works! please reblog, it always helps! Lmk if you want to be on the taglist:))

It was only when you got Joel’s number and scheduled your first work day that it started feeling real. Doing this, being around horses again, the thing that hurt you more than anything.

Well, it wasn’t the horses that hurt you. It was the way you were forced to push your limits with them. The way you were yelled at if you didn’t do something right. The way your stomach sank every time you were forced to use an unneeded pair of spurs on a horse.

Sleep doesn’t come easy Thursday night, the night before the long-awaited first day. You toss and turn in your bed, palms clammy and forehead sweaty. You kick off the matcha-colored bedspread you were wrapped in and sit up in bed, trying to take deep breaths to clear your head. You glance at your phone. 2:00 AM. If you know Sōl well enough, she’s probably at a party. She definitely won’t answer until morning.

So you text the one person who also might not be awake but still understands. Joel.

You click on the chat that only a few formal messages have been exchanged in and wonder if you’re being too impulsive. What is he going to think about you texting him at two in the morning? Your mind clouded with sleepiness and delusion, you text him anyway.

You- sorry for texting so late. having second thoughts about tmrw.

To your surprise, the ‘read’ icon pops up as soon as you send it.

Joel- i understand how you feel. are you wanting to cancel tomorrow? i was looking forward to it.

Did you want to cancel? Your brain is in a frenzy. He’s looking forward to it, you think over and over.

You- idk. i think still want to come tomorrow but I’m gonna take it slow:)

Joel- that makes sense and it’s totally good with me. can’t blame ya for feeling reluctant. you can pace things as slow as you want, ok cowgirl?

The nickname jumped off of your screen at you and butterflies take off inside your stomach.

You- ok cowboy;) thanks. excited to see u and the horses tmr!

Joel- likewise. now get some sleep, cowgirl.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you turn off your phone. The conversation was short but sweet and oddly comforting.

You silently pad over to the kitchen and quickly make a cup of chamomile tea with lots of honey. While you drink it, you shamelessly open the stable’s website and scroll to the picture of Joel and Sarah. You look closely at Joel’s left hand, resting over Sarah’s shoulder.

No ring.

Ok, he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean much. He could still be dating, you tell yourself. Even with that possibility, you catch yourself smiling softly at the photo, staring into Joel’s dark brown eyes. Soft and comforting, like the tea you’re drinking. You sigh and walk slowly back to bed, rubbing your eyes which at this point are bloodshot from tiredness.

With Joel’s messages imprinted in your head, you quickly fall asleep.

“Un-fucking-believable. I gave you one. Job. ONE job! To win the goddamn gold medal. And what did you do? You knocked over FOUR jumps. You are a dissapointment to this team. To the profession of jumping.”

“Please- I-I’m sorry, the horse was acting weird! Probably because you made me whip him when he doesn’t need it!”

“Don’t use those goddamn tears on me. Maybe I should show you how a whip feels.”

You wake up three hours later in a cold sweat, your face streaked with tears. You breathe heavily, your hands shaking with each breath. You run your hands over your face.

“It’s just a memory,” you whisper over and over to yourself. You try to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth, calming yourself down.

Sometimes you wish you don’t have to wake up in an empty bed, no one by your side to comfort you. It stings when you think about the last time someone was in your bed.

You shake the memories away for right now. Taking one last deep breath to attempt to ground you, you climb out of bed. You skip breakfast, not sure if you would be able to keep any food down with the amount of nerves flitting in your stomach.

You brush your teeth and throw on some mascara quickly, your hands still shaky and making it difficult. You put on a black tank top and faded boot cut jeans, along with a loose red flannel because it can get cold in the early Texas mornings.

It’s 6:00 on the dot when you slide on your steel-toed work boots, tucking them under your jeans. You grab your keys and a granola bar just in case and head out the door.

As you struggle to start your old pickup truck, second thoughts and anxieties start to fill your mind once again. You struggle to push them out of your head, filling it instead with the thought that you get to see Joel again. Nevertheless, your hands shake around the wheel as you drive the short drive to Sarah’s Stables.

When you pull into the driveway, Joel is sitting outside the barn on the concrete bench, shaking his leg with a nervous expression on his face. You step out of your truck and stride over to Joel as he stands up, trying to put on a confident smile even though the last thing you feel is confident.

“Morning,” Joel grins, shaking your hand firmly. His hand lingers on yours a little longer than it should before he pulls away.

“G’morning, cowboy,” you tip an invisible hat, and he returns the gesture. He leads you into the barn, gesturing you to follow with his hand.

“Did’ya get any sleep last night?” He asks with a hint of concern in his voice, making your heart melt.

You shrug. “Kind of. And I’m really sorry for texting you so late- or, early? I didn’t really have anyone else to text.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joel waves it off. “I liked it, having someone to talk to even for a bit. I’m always up past 2 doing paperwork and ordering feed and all that shit.”

“Good to know,” you grin, trying to hide the flustered expression on your face. You enter the barn, immediately walking up to the small Shetland pony’s stall. “Hey, buddy,” you coo, gently tracing the long stripe down his face. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel chuckles, leaning next to you on the stall door. “That’s Orion. Rescued him along with the percheron, Amadeus, from an animal hoarder.”

“So you’ve had a rough time with humans, huh, bud?” You nod understandingly. “I get it.”

“Very. I get it too,” Joel says softly. “So. Let’s get to work, huh? I’m gonna show you the different feed mixes for each horse. Not sayin’ you’ll have to feed ‘em every time you’re working here. We’ll feed the horses then I’ll introduce you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. It feels weird, being at a barn after so long of avoiding horses, y’know?” you sigh softly. “Is it too soon to say I have a good feeling about you and this barn? Like…I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels different.”

Joel nods knowingly, toying absentmindedly with Orion’s forelock. “Not at all. I get it,” he says understandingly. His eyes soften as he watches you interact with Orion, a slight faraway look on your face. “You doin’ okay, cowgirl?”

You nod, straightening up. “Yeah. Sorry. Just…zoned out.”

“No need to apologize,” Joel smiles softly. A tall cinnamon colored Tennessee Walker down the aisle kicks his stall door in impatience. “Let’s do this.”

In less than 20 minutes, the horses are fed and happily nickering into their feed buckets. Joel had written down the feed mixes for each individual horses with care and posted it on the wall so you didn’t have to memorize them right away. You can tell how much Joel Miller cares for his horses.

“We can turn the horses out now.” Joel tosses you two halters, a purple nylon one and a teal rope one. “Think you can handle two horses at once?”

“Totally.” You sling the halters over your shoulder.

“The rope halter is for Whiskey, the Tennessee Walker and the nylon is for Dottie, the Appaloosa mare. Stalls 5 and 6.”

In no time, you worked together to get all six horses out to the pasture. It’s picturesque, a large green field with a tall white fence surrounding the perimeter. It feels like a daydream watching the horses frolic aorund with eachother, enjoying their taste of freedom after being caged in a stall for the night.

You and Joel sit on the lower bar of the fence, arms resting along the top piece with your head on top. Observing the horses’ behaviors carefully, you can see with the way the chestnut Quarter Horse gelding pins his ears and threatens any horse that gets close to his pile of hay that he’s top dog. The dominant horse, the leader. A comfortable silence falls between you and Joel, as you both let out a collective sigh of relief as the stress of morning feeding washes off.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Joel sighs, breaking off the silence.

“Gorgeous,” you agree, glancing over at Joel. His soft brown eyes are full of adoration for his horses.

He gestures towards the chestnut Quarter Horse. “That right there is Magnum. Total powerhouse. Used to be a ‘coon hunting horse.”

You giggle, staring over at Magnum’s solid build and shiny coat. “People still hunt for raccoons?”

Joel shrugs incredulously. “I guess. His owner gave him to me because he wasn’t getting enough attention. He was ridden twice a week and left to rot by himself in a field the rest of the time. He’s obviously dom, as you’ve probably noticed.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I noticed. I can tell he has a strong personality, too.” You grin, looking over at Joel.

“Sure does,” Joel smiles back proudly. Your shared gaze lasts a little too long before you turn your head away, looking back at the horses and trying to hide the flustered expression on your face.

Joel introduces you to the rest of the horses; Amadeus, the percheron, Dottie, the petite Appaloosa mare, and Arizona, the gorgeous flaxen-colored mustang/Arabian cross.

“Say, have you eaten anything for breakfast yet?” Joel asks, holding out his hand to help you up from your perches on the fence.

You’re sure this man is going to be the death of you. You shake your head sheepishly, gently grabbing his hand as you stand up. His grip is soft and warm, hands calloused from years of hard work. “Not really,” you say as you let go of his hand. “I was too nervous.”

“What, am I that scary to ya’, cowgirl?” He grins cheekily, nudging your shoulder playfully as you both walk back into the barn.

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes as you nudge him back. “No, not scared. Terrified.” You stick your tongue out at him.

“Ha, ha, darlin’. Why don’t we go get some breakfast? Gotta fuel up before cleanin’ the stalls.”

You shrug. “Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“Home Grounds is a good coffee shop, good bakery stuff too,” Joel offers.

“No fucking way,” your eyes widen in surprise. “I work there! How have I never seen you there?”

“You must not be on the clock when I go. I’m sure I’d remember a face like yours,” Joel says softly, then catches himself, clearing his throat. “Sorry, that was-”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off. “Let’s go. We can take your truck. Mine’s a little…messy right now.”

Joel chuckles. “Sure as hell can’t be as bad as mine.”

Soon, you’re driving with Joel to the coffee shop, Take On Me by A-ha playing quietly through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You smile widely, opening the window and resting your arm outside.

“Me too,” Joel turns up the stereo. “You sing at all, cowgirl?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes wide in mock horror. “Not at all. Do you, cowboy?”

“A bit. I play a smidge of guitar, too,” he smirks.

“Oh, really? I’m gonna have to hear some of these Joel Miller guitar skills sometime,” you grin.

Joel shakes his head, a smile growing on his face as he pulls into the coffee shop driveway. “Believe me, I hype up my skills wayyy too much.” He turns off the truck and quickly runs around to your side of the truck to open your door. Butterflies take off in your stomach as he does this.

Hiding your flustered look, you deadpan him, eyes rolling. “Dude,” you grin, climbing out and he shuts the door behind you.

“What?” He opens the coffee shop door for you too. “Momma always taught me to be a gentleman.”

“And my mom always taught me to never trust men,” you grin cheekily.

“I can change that,” he side eyes you.

Trying to ignore his words, you wave at a coworker. “Hey, Jess!” You call to her, walking up to the counter.

“Hey, girlie. Who’s that?” She asks slyly, eyeing Joel. “New boyfriend?”

“Uh, no,” you say quickly before Joel can hear. “I’m working for him. He owns a horse barn.”

“You’re back to horses?” Jess inquires, cocking a brow.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, okay?” You spin around to face Joel. “What are you getting?”

“Just a black coffee and blueberry muffin, but don’t worry, cowgirl. I gotchu.” He starts taking out his wallet but you playfully swat his arm.

“Don’t. Please. I get employee discount anyway.”

Joel sighs in defeat, holding up his hands in mock offense. “Fine. But I’m paying next time.”

Next time, next time, next time….

After you order, the black coffee for him and a cold brew for you, you go to put your card in the reader to notice Joel’s card is already there. “Joel!” You mutter, giving him a disapproving look.

“Hey, I’m tryna be nice, okay?” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks, really.”

The atmosphere felt charged with an unspoken tension as you both sat at a small table by the window, the warm sunlight filtering in. Joel's eyes seemed to hold a certain depth, a familiarity that stirred something within you.

"So, tell me about yourself, cowgirl," Joel said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

You took a sip of your cold brew, gathering your thoughts. "There’s not a whole lot to tell. Well, there is, but not a lot I want to go into right now. I fell in love with horses after riding a pony at a fair, and it kind of exploded from there. I started off riding Western and doing gymkhanas, then switched over to hunter/jumpers. That was obviously a huge change. I exelled really quickly in that, but as you probably know, being the best doesn’t mean you’re treated the best. A lot of shit happened at those barns, and I quit when when I was 18. People called me selfish and self-absorbed for quitting, which is what i believed for awhile. But my mental health imrpoved a lot after quitting and I came to accept the fact that it was a good thing.”

Joel nodded, his expression understanding. "I get that. Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we need to take a step back to reassess things."

"Yeah, exactly," you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. "But now I'm back, and I'm hoping things will be different this time."

"I'm sure they will be," Joel said with a reassuring smile. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, cowgirl."

You felt heat creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, quickly taking another sip of your cold brew to hide your reaction. "Thanks, Joel. I appreciate that."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, covering everything from your favorite books to your shared love of old John Wayne western movies. With each passing moment, you found yourself becoming more and more drawn to Joel, his easygoing nature and genuine kindness pulling you in.

Before you knew it, your cups were empty, and it was time to head back to the barn. As you walked side by side with Joel, the familiar feeling of nervous excitement bubbled up inside you once again.

As soon as you walk back into the barn, he turns on a 70s playlist and tosses you a mucking fork. “Ready to muck some stalls, cowgirl?”

The music fills the barn with a nostalgic vibe as you take the mucking fork from Joel with a grin. "Born ready," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Together, you fall into a rhythm of cleaning the stalls, the repetitive motion oddly soothing as you work side by side. Joel hums along to the music, occasionally breaking out into a soft whistle that echoes through the barn.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Joel, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt with each movement. There's something comforting about his presence, a sense of safety and warmth that you haven't felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the stalls are clean, and the horses are happily munching on fresh hay. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feeling a sense of satisfaction at a job well done.

"Thanks for your help, cowgirl," Joel says, giving you a grateful smile as he leans against the stall door.

"No problem," you reply, returning his smile. "It was actually kind of fun."

Joel chuckles, pushing himself off the door. "Glad to hear it. You've got a talent for this, you know?"

You feel a swell of pride at his words, a sense of validation that you haven't felt in a long time. "Thanks, Joel. That means a lot coming from you."

He gives you a nod of appreciation before glancing at his watch. "Well, I hate to cut this short, but I've got some paperwork to take care of. Think you can handle things on your own for a bit?"

You nod confidently, eager to prove yourself. "Of course. I'll hold down the fort."

"Great," Joel says, giving you a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit. And hey, if you need anything, just give me a shout."

With that, he disappears into the office, leaving you alone in the barn. You take a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through your veins.

You may have started the day with doubts and anxieties, but now, as you stand in the quiet of the barn surrounded by the gentle sounds of the horses, you feel a sense of purpose wash over you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #mrs ohara writes shit #pedro pascal #the last of us

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threadfall · 7 days

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Pern Resources

This is an ongoing collection of links* that should cover a whole range of bits and pieces relating to Dragonriders of Pern and Anne McCaffrey – from interviews to interesting articles!

* I check these regularly, but I cannot vouch for if the domains still exist and, if not, what is currently on them. A lot of resources relating to Pern are from the 90s/early 2000s and liable to be replaced by random hosting spam. EDIT: walks-the-ages has added some excellent comments about the Wayback Machine! (And many thanks for backing the pages up on it.)

World Building – Canon

Dragon Lover's Guide to Pern, by Jody Lynn Nye – Link

Hosted by peoplepern.narod.ru, this website is in Russian but has a full English digitised DLG complete with pictures.

All the Songs of Pern – Link

Song Lyrics and Poetry – Link

Music From the World of Anne McCaffrey's Pern by Tania Opland and Mike Freeman – Link

It's worth noting that while the songbooks and CDs are available to buy, all the music is also available through Spotify.

Curses, Oaths, and Maledicta – Links

Pernese Sayings/Curses from Pern Etc. – Links

World Building – 'Fanon'

News From Bree – Multiple links below!

Threadfall Patterns – Link Pern Demographics – Link Can Menolly Outrun Thread? – Link Dragon Demographics – Link Bargaining for Bubbly Pies – Link Originally a Tolkien fanzine between 1970-1988, the site is now a resource that covers multiple topics of interest to Hartley Patterson.

On Impression, by Faye Upton – Link

A multi-part essay on Upton's thoughts about how Impression does/should work, and its relation to the canon of the fanwork Dragonchoice.

Kadanzar Weyr Handbook – Link

While no longer active (since 2013 as of 2024), Kadanzar has multiple articles talking in depth about the 'canon' of their site, which are interesting reads for how Pern may have functioned. The link is specifically to a text page sharing all of the files uploaded to Kadanzar, and may take some time to load. Not all of the files are world building information (some are just site lists), however many are.

Living On Pern – Link

Shoulder Knots by Wicked Zoeygirl on Deviantart – Link

Oath Roleplay Resources – Link

Notable for its page on dragons and its 'non-canon' charter, which collects or infers mentioned rights from the books.

Fandom Topics

A Dragonlover's Guide to Pern Fandom from Kadanzer Weyr – Link

Anne McCaffrey – Interviews

Luna Monthly #56, November 1974 – Link

Hosted by FanAc.org, a fan history archive, and conducted by Paul Walker. This heavily discusses gender in the Sci-Fi genre.

Princessions #14, Summer 1983 – Link

Hosted on Google Drive, by this blog runner. Princessions was a Wonder Woman newszine, but switched to being about uplifting women's voices in the Scifantasy space. The interviews take place during the White Dragon book tour.

The Power of Science Fiction and Fantasy with Anne McCaffrey & Elizabeth Ann Scarborough – Link

Hosted on Youtube by A DISCUSSION WITH National Authors on Tour, conducted by Kay Drache of Hennepin County Library.

Collaborating with Anne McCaffrey: An interview with Elizabeth Moon – Link

Hosted on katemacdonald.net, conducted by Kate Macdonald. This talks at length about Moon writing the Planet Pirate series.

Anne McCaffrey - Women Writers, Channel 4 1988 – Link

Hosted on Youtube by Nearrrggghh.

#resources #DRoP #Dragonriders of Pern #Anne McCaffrey

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qwuilty · 1 year

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How Postal 1 is a playable Tragedy and how Postal 2 followed with a Comedy after it. - A semi formal essay about the narrative and story beats of the beginning of Postal

That's right! This was not an april fool's joke! The only april fool here is me! It's an idea ive been brewing on for a while and it's probably very rambly, but such is life, i hope you enjoy it regardless <3

Before I begin this essay, I would like to clarify a few things.

One, I want to address right away that while I do try to be critical and non-biased on these sorts of discussions, due to my own personal attachments to specifically Postal 1 Dude, I don't think I will ever be able to make a fully unbiased view of him. Again, I will try my best to, but I hope pointing it out here will make it so you can decide if that’s something you’re okay with.

Secondly, while i will try to reign myself back a little and not just spew words at you here, i do tend to ramble a little and have trouble connecting points to other points, so if i do please forgive me there. This is meant to be a semi-formal essay, but still I am not a professional writer. Additionally, while i do this analysis of this series, i do not think it is what the creators intended, please do not take this as full canon and all. This is simply for fun and to recollect on the first two games of the series.

I hope you will understand, and with those disclaimers out of the way, we can begin with the essay.

We begin this essay with Postal (Which I will be calling Postal 1 for the sake of clarity, by the way), a PC-Rom game released in 1997 by the company Running With Scissors, originally published by Take Two Interactive before publishing moved over to Ripcord Interactive. The game was marketed to be intentionally provoking and intense. One example is through fictional interview quotes talking about how he seemed to be fine before the events of the game with a simple question below.

What went wrong?

With little more than that, a picture of an M-16, an invitation to find out at their website below, and a short talk about how to get the demo, it leaves a striking impression on the viewer and a burning curiosity to find out what did go wrong. Other advertisements for the game are similar in nature, being very eye-catching and intense to draw in the reader to want to see more.

Described by the studio as “The game every gamer wanted and no one else dared to make”, it’s very clear their intention was to bring you in with its more intense subject matter as this game that dared to go where no game had before, to either acclaim or great critical disgust. It is described by the promotional material as a psychological thriller, preparing the incoming viewer for the expectation this game would be intense.

From the advertisements though you can already get the idea there may be something else to this game, introducing Paradise as a town where everyone is out to get you (or are they?), and that whether it is Conspiracy or Insanity, you have no time to question, only to act. This narrative carries over to the game itself, as there is no formal introduction to a story given to the player unless they actively decide to read the manual included in the game’s case (or chose a higher difficulty in the remake, Postal Redux), you are more an outsider to what happens after you press play guiding the Dude through this hell.

However, I think to truly enjoy Postal 1, it is important to consider the journals themselves to get the inner perspective of your player character. Those who do not choose to may take the game at a more surface level with the “dark” cutscene texts and gorey gameplay then simply leave it behind, but the hidden story adds a whole extra level of depth and truly establishes Postal 1 as a tragedy.

To explain where I am coming from at that point, I would like to establish what makes a tragedy, specifically with Postal 1 being a Domestic Tragedy. (A tragedy in which the characters are middle-class or working-class people instead of nobility or rich people)

Aristotle’s tragic plot structure starts at the beginning, goes through action, leads to the realization of error, then goes through the falling action and emotional impact of it, eventually releasing the emotions of pity and fear through to the catharsis as the story ends and fear is removed.

While the game does not give much of an actual explanation of what happened in the Dude’s life before the events on October 17th, 1997 even in the diary entries that show his viewpoint, it’s easy to infer there was a rise even before then that he was not doing well mentally. He describes a rising paranoia, belief that the people there are sick, how “I hear gunshots, screams after dark. Now the phone calls, sayin’ i’m being thrown outta this house. My house.”, constantly arming himself with a sidearm and kevlar vest preparing for the incoming perceived impact that he ultimately makes reality.

From there we have our beginning, the game’s levels acting as the actions through the story that lead him on this journey through Arizona. Though initially he tries to find help and contact a sheriff, because he is seemingly so far gone, those efforts are in vain and his belief that everyone else is infected is reinforced. It separates him further from the people around him, believing that he is the only one who can save them from this sickness and that though the journey is bloody, it is for the good of mankind.

It’s likely at the beginning he intends to save them, but after a while, comes to the conclusion that the area is simply beyond saving, and that he needs to leave a scorched earth behind so he can warn those outside. His condition worsens the further the player goes, covered in blood, bullet wounds, body aching but unable to stop until he sees this desired resolution. As quoted from The Industrial Complex journal, “Too far to quit now. Whatever waits at the Base, I’m going to see it with my own eyes.” and from the Air Force Base as he tries to resolve himself to finish what he set out on, “Me or them. Can’t delay, can’t risk infection.”

Notably in the game’s manual there was no journal given for the ending cutscene in the original game, though I think the one for Redux is also fitting. “I’ve been here before. I know it. But… Something’s changed. Will they understand me? Forgive me? Is this where I find salvation?” One of the main things you’ll probably hear about relating to the differences of Postal 1 and Redux is the ending being changed.

In Postal 1, the game ends with the Dude making his way to an elementary school in a haze, the player no longer in control as he desperately tries to take aim at them, but nothing he does seems to affect them. Considering unfortunate tragedies in real life, this ending was changed for Redux, where instead the Dude walks up to the end of a church, watching as a coffin is lowered into the ground either alone on Easy to Medium or with two mourners on Hard to Nightmare, and the hostile count goes down from one to none as soon as it’s in the ground.

Either way, it ends with the Dude collapsing down to the floor, and the game finally ends with pictures of Dude in a hellish confinement and a voice speaking over top. The final speech talks about the stress of modern life before further mentioning how he had perceived himself as a hero against impossible odds, but in reality will now only ever be seen as a mad man who hurt hundreds, if not thousands of lives.

Some may say this ending is an anti-climax or a bad reward for the game, but i think through the lens of a tragedy, it is a perfect ending. Our ‘hero” through the entire game has kept himself standing because he thought he was doing the right thing, that his actions were horrible, but it would be justified by the good he was doing. He does not want them to writhe and suffer, the journey is a horrific nightmare, and there is no sense of pride or that he’s finally getting some kind of vengeance on those who wronged him. But he persists, he moves onwards because he so desperately wants to end this and stop the madness, one that only he sees as reality.

That is where we get the action, right after the Air Base is the Recognition, the point of realization that it was all for naught. In Postal 1, it’s likely this comes at the moment he realizes that he’s not doing anything to them, and unable to simply destroy this ‘threat’, he is forced to stop and think if he’s even been going against any threats at all. How far has he gone to the point he was going to harm innocent children? How many more innocents has he harmed? With Redux that realization is more up to interpretation, whether the casket is where he’s in after he dies and realizes that there’s no recognition of him after his death, or if it’s the last hostile he has to kill, only to realize even with them dead, the world around him has not gotten any better, only worse because of his actions.

The pity and fear comes from the moment inside the cutscenes, and from there the "catharsis", when he is ultimately institutionalized with no seen trial, no fanfare, and is given an analytical view from an off-screen doctor before the game ultimately ends. And again, I think for the game that Postal 1 is, it’s the perfect ending. Because truthfully, was there ever going to be any good ending for him after his collapse? The player either knows or discovers along with him that his journey was for nothing, he killed countless people including potentially civilians who had just happened to get caught in the crossfire, and the grand threat he fought against did not even exist. There are no heroes, there is no triumph, it was all for nothing, and now he is confined to a cell as several hundreds of families have to cope with the loss.

With all of this, I think Postal 1 Dude (and subsequently Postal Redux Dude) is a great tragic “hero” figure, as deep down he wants to do good for the world. If you take the advertisement interviews and hints from others as a sort of semi-canon, it’s implied he was doing good, he was kind to others and liked well enough, but likely due to an untreated and ignored illness began to fall in on himself into a paranoia so deep he could never crawl out. I hear a lot of the notion that he “snaps out of nowhere”, and that he’s just “crazy”, but I think that’s a gross oversimplification of his character.

Even in the moment of it all, he initially tried to go to a higher authority for help but found himself all alone to try and stop this ‘sickness’. His journey is his own personal burden, taken to try and stop anyone from being hurt, at the cost of his health and potentially his own life. But it’s also important to not just consider his intent, but the action caused afterwards.

Because while he did mean to save others, he still hurt hundreds of people. There are hundreds of families who will never see their partners, their siblings, their children, their friends, all because of one overzealous man who decided he was going to be humanity’s savior. Perhaps it is not just conspiracy or insanity, but instead the poor judgement of a man who truly believes he is doing right being guided along by an outside force who makes him see it through to the end.

In Postal 1, you are the audience to a grand scale tragedy, bringing a man on a journey through hell to a shallow grave where no one is saved, no one is cured, leaving you back on the title screen to think about what you’ve done to him and the people of Paradise.

In Postal 2 you can smoke crack and piss on people.

Okay, sorry for the whiplash, but I had to transition somehow.

After the release of Postal 1 and subsequent expansions, there was obviously a backlash as well as critical acclaim. The game was banned in several countries, Running With Scissors was personally given a letter by the USPS about the name, and it was pulled off the shelves of several stores. Many books about video game violence and newspapers talked about the game and admittedly got quite a lot about it wrong, like believing the Dude was an ex-postal service worker despite the game never saying so, that there was some sort of score based system for “killing as many innocent victims as possible while they begged for mercy” (Stop Teaching Our Kids To Kill, Lt. Col. Dave Grossman and Gloria DeGaetano, Chapter Two, 1990s: Video Game Violence Increases.), not to mention how many were quick to try and pull a connection between it and horrific tragedies in real life.

(Quick unprofessional note, the amount of times i saw this one damn quote about a specific killer killing himself “JUST LIKE HOW YOU END LEVELS IN POSTAL!1!” despite that NOT being how you end levels in postal or even the game makes my head physically hurt.)

With this reception of Postal 1, it does make sense for Running With Scissors to decide to take a change of focus when they began work on Postal 2 after the cancellation of their next game, Flesh and Wire. While Postal 1 was more intense in tone and serious, Postal 2 was set to be much more parody focused and had a drastic shift in the appearance of the main character.

While Postal 1 Dude in the concept art and promotional image notably looked disheveled and scared, Postal 2 Dude felt more laid back, engaged in the chaos around him and able to dish it back just as hard. There’s a very noticeable shift even before the game came out, from a man huddled in the corner with a rifle or seemingly startled holding an M-16 (note, i'm pretty sure it is? I am not a gun person, sorry </3) to a man standing with his body facing the player, brandishing his rifle as chaos ensues behind him.

The town of Paradise goes through a similarly drastic change, from a somewhat toned down and realistic feeling environment made of cool and dark colors to a much more exaggerated parody of a small town in Arizona full of bright, warm colors. The game begins with a sweeping view of the town, passing by a road sign warning to “watch for psycho assholes”, a drunk man dancing in the streets as a cat falls asleep, a man is beat by a police officer, and the player can already see several satirical billboards on their way to Dude’s trailer.

The introduction to him is also drastically different, now speaking directly as he wakes up in his obviously run down trailer and gets into an argument with his wife about moving to Arizona to pay for his crack habit, the AC being broken (which he obviously doesn't make better by shooting at it), about chores until he makes his way out of the trailer and kicks away Champ, his car not working, and the Bitch reminding him to get her rocky road. This immediately sets up Dude in this game being much more cynical and snarky, someone who’s been chewed up and spit up by life, and now is dealing with a pretty rough morning.

The game itself follows a pretty similar tone, gone are the unsettling journals, the morality of it all, in this remodel of the series the game has effectively gone from Tragedy to Comedy. More specifically, I think Postal 2 falls under a Farce, which according to the Wordsmyth dictionary, is “a comedy that depends for its humor on quick and surprising turns of events and on exaggerated characters and situations, or the type of humor characteristic of such a play.”, which I feel is very fitting. Running With Scissors put more emphasis on physical comedy, slapstick yet still grotesque violence, bodily function humor, and of course, a lot of satire and parody of life at the time.

The game itself plays as if it were a comedy, each day functioning as a new act as the chores act as the separate jokes, returning jokes such as the Dude’s relationship with his wife and introducing new ones such as the incredibly zealous anti-book protestors burning down a library on Tuesday or the cannibalistic butchers of Thursday. The main sources of these jokes in the game come from two factors, that being the world around Postal Dude is insane and absurd but he still has to make it through each day somehow, and an extreme form of Murphy’s Law, in which anything that could go wrong will, and at the worst possible time.

The ability to make it through these insane events in one piece is what mainly separates Postal 2 Dude from Postal 1 Dude, as while Postal 1 Dude holds onto his sense of justice and morality in the horror he saw and ultimately ended up hurting himself and those around him, Postal 2 Dude is adaptable, able to keep his head above water and make it home despite it all. The game’s increase in the story’s conflict as each hate group begins to target Dude is still joking in nature, just another group of people who hate him and try to kill him on sight, but you’ve got errands to do so you just gotta deal with it.

The ultimate climax of this increasing rise of stakes leads to the final event of Friday, quite literally a full blown apocalypse (complete with a nod to Postal 1 on the newspaper about mind altering gasses and the military being involved) where cats and dogs rain from the sky and everyone and anyone is trying to kill each other, especially you.

It’s the final big obstacle as you book it back home, this massive hysteria that serves as the big crazy finale until you finally make it home and things shift back to a mundane that now becomes comedic in its own right. Dude returns home, having made it through figurative hell only to be reminded of a joke that comes full circle from the start, the fact he forgot the Rocky Road. The final joke ends with a loud gunshot, implying that while he could make it through all he’s been through that week, having to be there even a moment more made him decide he’d rather spend the night in a hospital or a grave.

In conclusion, the drastic difference between Postal 1 and Postal 2 is incredibly fascinating to me, especially through the lens of them as a traditional Tragedy and Comedy in video game format. While the series has leaned much more to comedy after the release of 2 and Redux did not do as well financially, i think it’s still interesting to look back at the beginning of the series and their adaptation of it later on to see how the Dude began.

From a desperate and hopeful but ultimately misguided self imposed martyr of humanity who was going to drag along as many as he needed to “save” those outside to a cynical and sarcastic man living in a trailer home making it through each progressively more crazy day to make it home and start a new day after that, you can fully feel the shift in tone from the soundtrack to the design to the gameplay of the games itself.

I do think it was probably for the best that Postal had turned more comedic as time went on, it seems to be more where Running With Scissors are able to fit their writing, however i still look back at Postal 1 very fondly and hope to see more of those tragedy elements come back for a bit in the jokes. It’s a compelling narrative and even if they say it has no story, i’ll always think the story it DOES have is very underrated.

Here’s to hoping for that Postal 4 weekend expansion?

#postal dude #postal 1 #postal 2 #character analysis #i included some drawings inbetween to break it up a little so its not all just words #i hope p2 looks okay i dont draw him as much as i do p1-#again i hope you all enjoy this ive been thinking about it very much #Postal 1 you may have no story according to others but you have all the story according to me <3

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