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prokopetz · 27 days

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In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #fiction first #violence mention #death mention #swearing

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mjulmjul · 1 year

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Katya / Goncharov

#yeah ik ive posted them before sorry but i REALLY like how these look together #martin scorsese #goncharov #artists on tumblr #illustration #unreality #<— posters for a ‘movie’ that doesn’t actually exist but is a tumblr meme in which everyone pretends it does&makes content for it #fascinating how we’re immediately personable w katya by knowing her first name while only knowing goncharov’s surname keeps us at a distanc #combined with him being the only major character to go by a moniker it emphasizes just how much he's been consumed by the role he plays #who is goncharov? does he know and keep it secret? or has he too lost his sense of identity?#it's reflected in these posters as we SEE katya but goncharov remains elusive - yet clearly time is running out for them both #lakjdklf ok im done now i never post meta on here so im having fun with the fictional movie #btw I updated both of the illustrations compared to the original posts but will leave those as they were #woudl be cool if my post showed up. u can do it tumblr

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sentient-forest · 1 year

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#cecilsweep and Welcome to Night Vale trending #1 in 2023

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #ive said it before but people not knowing wtnv makes me feel old #i remember the days before cecil had a canonical last name #so tumblr just gave him the jonathan sims treatment #aka called him cecil baldwin (the voice actor's name)#wtnv will always have a special place in my heart as my first fiction podcast #cecil palmer #cecilsweep #oh to be young and queer and stumble upon a funky little gay podcast about a horiffic and absurd little town #yes i am just reusing my tags from my last post #added a description #glad yall are enjoying my shitty meme #i made it while half-awake and unable to sleep because my tummy hurt :(#follow me for more shitty podcast memes #im currently going feral for malevolent #important note: girlies is gender neutral #tumblr sexyman poll

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captainkirkk · 4 months

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I love reading kid fics but I can't turn off my speechie brain when I'm reading them and it's obvious the writer isn't familar with developmental norms. What do you MEAN this 4 year old is only babbling or pointing to request but everyone says he's "doing wonderfully"???? I'M STRESSED OUT

#and don't even get me started on when they mark speech sound errors #what do you mean this child is dropping off the first sound in all his words #my posts #please get these fictional children into speech therapy

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writinginthetwilight · 5 months

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You Look Good In Green.

Eddie Munson x Bartender! Fem! Reader.

>>Summery: Between a deli and a laundromat in down town Indianapolis, a bar sits unassuming. Almost derelict looking from the outside, to the untrained eye. But by night shes a different beast.

>>Author note: This is my first ever time posting my writing and I am terrified.

But this story has been floating around my head for at least 18 months and I've finally gotten the courage to get it down.

I'm dyslexic as shit so I'm sorry if their are any mistakes, but sometimes even spell check and Grammerly can't help me. Enjoy.

>>Series warnings: 18+ only, strangers to friends to lovers, jealous!Eddie, jealous!Reader, fluff, pining, angst, drinking, smoking of the devil's lettuce, strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, slow burn.

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1 - Late

As late September arrives, so does a yearly nostalgia. The unforgiving summer sun gives way to cool fall air and it filters into the days with muted colours and spiced smells.

A whisper of a suggestion of what's to come. Promises of long nights and short days, curled up indoors hidden from the elements.

But late September is a trap.

A trap you are currently caught in, a trap of an unnecessary amount of layers as you rush down the street, weaving between people and ripping the olive green knitted hat from your head, sweat beading at your hairline.

Quiet curses come from you as your bag slips down your arm, sending you twisting off kilter and stumbling forward.

This wasn't how this morning was meant to go.

This wasn't the plan, you had wanted a leisurely breakfast, shower and moisturise, maybe fit in a few errands on the way to work.

But now you were late and warm, the deceptive cool air vanquished by a clear day and the midday sun.

Turning the corner you rush towards the bus stop, with just enough time to join the last of the passengers as they board. Letting out a sigh of relief your chest burns with the excursion as you finally settle for the first time today.

Sweet soft hazy waking had been ripped from you with a punch of adrenaline at the sight of your radio alarm clock.

Plain bread straight from the packet, mismatched clothes, a gargle of mouthwash, spilt kibble scittered across the linoleum floor and then you were out the door.

The bus hissed and took off. You shed the rest of your layers and placed soft headphones over your ears, closing your eyes you let Iron Maidens Wasted Years calm you. Light dancing behind your eyelids, stuttering between the buildings that pass.

The first stop comes and you feel yourself jostling to a stop, the increase in chatter on the once sparsely populated bus is muted behind your music and you eyes lazily open to glance at the new passengers.

A woman with a tight perm, dressed head to toe in soft pink boards. Her mouth moves quickly talking to the driver as she rifles through bags, gathering her things and turning, her eyes survey the bus. She catches your eye and you look away quickly, but it's too late.

From your peripheral you see movement and before you have a chance to process, pink clothes and plastic grocery bags are encroaching on your 20 minutes of rest. Bewildered, you look up and back away from the woman, pulling you headphones from your head.

"-and it's just so lovely-” she says, shoving a bag into the ever decreasing space around your knees “- I can't resist you know." She slumps heavily into the chair turning to face you expectantly.

"Yeah." you say unsure as to what you're agreeing to, she beams and pats your knee.

You twist awkwardly against the inordinate amount of grocery bags which have been stuffed into the space around your legs. You're not an ass, if the bus is busy and somebody needs the space next to you, you don't mind polite chit chat.

But you weren't prepared for this.

You thought the empty seats surrounding you and headphones would be enough to guarantee 20 minutes of solitude. Enough time to mourn the morning you had wanted and collect yourself. Evidently you were wrong.

June she's called, but her birthdays in 3 weeks, she informs you with a chuckle. She smells of rose soap and jingles when the bus goes over speed bumps. She has three grown sons and her Liam would just love you. 5 grand kids and a pocket full of cloudy white hard candies that click against her teeth when she talks.

You can barely get a word in, so stop trying, and as the heat through the bus window prickles your neck, you get antsy, over-stimulated and finally you stand abruptly.

“This is my stop.” you say stumbling awkwardly trying not to trample over the woman's bags as you escape the seat next to her

She makes no effort to move. “Oh, oh okay honey, well you take care now.” you give her a quick tight smile pulling the cord and quickly making your way off the bus to the street below.

This isn't your stop.

You stare up at the clear sky, jacket and bag fisted in your hands. With a sigh you fish out your tape deck and begin to walk.

...

Gus's bar sits squat and unassuming between a deli and laundromat in downtown Indianapolis, no sign or name other than the red neon open sign which sits askew in the right side window. When you finally arrive after the 15 minute walk, which you really didn't need before a 10 hour shift, the door squeals as you make your way indoors.

The usual low lights of the dark wood interior are off in favour of the bright main ones and you frown in confusion as you make your way over to the bar. Dumping your belongings atop, a toolbox and loose bolts lay haphazardly beside them. That's when you recognise the distinct lack of bar railing.

You're drawn to the light filtering in under the door at the end of the bar and the low murmur of music gets louder as you approach.

“Afternoon.” Gus gruffly greets you without looking up as you push open the door.

The poor excuse of an office, more of a cupboard really, is already overfilled. Stuffed floor to ceiling with stock and files, broken pitchers gathering dust and fading post it notes that were here long before you.

Now the mountain of a man before you has dragged in the brass railing which sits across his lap, almost scratching the ceiling.

He glances up to you when you don't respond, pushing up his glasses to the top of his head.

“What are you doing?" you say from your place leaning against the door frame.

He shrugs. “Decided to give it a polish up.”

“And you're in here because?”

“ Chairs in here.” he says simply as he leans back into the peeling red leather seat with a groan, as if to illustrate his point.

“But why did you remove it? “

“Jazz darling, if I get down out there I ain't getting back up.”

“But you had to get it off so, surely you would have to- You know what it doesn't matter, next time wait for me.”

He hums, your lateness is unmentioned but obviously noticed, he glances you up and down.

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks” you say dryly and make your way to the back of the room, squeezing behind his chair, ducking your way under the railing as you go

“So, what's the occasion”you say flipping through an order file, “these guys special or something.”

Gus snorts, “If Angie's last pick is anything to go by. No.”

You grimace at the memory of the letchy men who had arrived last week, faces painted and loud. They had wailed KISS while you and Gus watched on with pained smiles until he finally stopped them, and told them he'd be in touch.

“What time are they coming?”

“Two, got deliveries due soon though”, you nod, taking that as your cue to get on and make your way out.

He catches your arm gently before you can leave, tattooed hand holding you back.

“You good?” he says and his face holds a softness he doesnt dole out to many.

You deflate slightly, releasing the tension you were still holding onto.

“Yeah” you say smiling at him, he looks at you for a beat, nods and lets you go.

You busy yourself with signing for deliveries and putting them away, the weekly tasks that are muscle memory now, working in tandem with Gus in a rhythm made over the past 4 years. Music and banter fills the gaps. Footsteps echoing around the large space, which despite what it may look like from the outside sprawls back and out, well kept and clean.

It's a different beast in the day. Quiet and still, shadows that usually hide at the edges and corners laid bare.

....

Thursdays night have been your baby for around 18 months now. Gifted to you after a particularly nasty fight, where Angie demanded Gus give you more responsibility. A balm for the fact that he spent every night at the bar, and although she loved the place, she wants time alone with him, or at least the option.

When Gus had been satisfied that you could handle the place with the help of a couple of extra bar staff if needed and the door man George, he had agreed, in theory, to let you plan the nights as you wanted. As long as he was kept in the loop.

College kids and people who worked the weekend shift appreciated your deals on drinks and open mic nights. With new regulars and enough turn over to rival the weekend Gus had tentatively agreed to finding you a regular band to play.

It had all been duds so far, heavier bands you sought after out of town or only passing through. Others already had a place in rotation at the weekends and they didn't much like the idea of downgrading to a Thursday. The other, just, hadn't been great.

Around quarter to two you and Gus set up the stage, which was really more of a oversized box step, and waited.

For 45 minutes, they were 45 minutes late. Gus had eventually gone back to his office grumbling to let him know if they showed up, and as 3 o'clock approached you would soon be opening up so you went about getting the bar ready to serve.

You heard them before you saw them, the dishwashers cycle coming to and end in tandem with the last of a raucous argument which petered out the further through the door the voices came. You poked your head out from the back and spotted them looking around the space as they spoke at a more tempered volume.

“Can I help gentlemen?” you walk out behind the bar to observe them. They all turn and one separates, raising his hand to the others as he approaches you. Long dark curls frame his face and he makes immediate eye contact.

“Hi sweetheart” he starts with a tip of his head. There's a familiarity in his eye which confuses you but you only raise your eyebrows in response. He straightens eyes searching yours. “we're here to see Gus.”

He's pretty, and once upon a time the charm which obviously rolls off him would have made your face heat and voice stutter, but now, well, you've met a lot of pretty faces.

“And we are?” You say with a small smile and his face falls for half a second but he recovers quickly. Smoothing his hands over the bar, large rings on his fingers softly scraping the wood.

“Corroded Coffin”

You lean on the bar towards him and he grins back at you, “You're late.”

He falters fully now and the rest of the band comes to his rescue.

“We’re sorry about that, we got turned around and the traffic was terrible” one of them says coming up on the right, he has dark skin and sincere eyes and you watch as the other two members come in on the left one stocky, pale with tight curls and the other looks a little younger, more flustered and they nod their heads quickly in agreement.

You look over them all, your annoyance diminishing slightly at the realisation that they all look flustered. Pot kettle black you think and lean away from them.

“Gus! The talents here!”

They all jump back at the sound of Gus appearing into the room

“ Boys!” his voice booms in a timbre which fills the empty bar.

They all scramble to greet him, spilling apologies and exchanging four of the most awkward handshakes you've ever seen. Introductions are made and you give a small wave as Gus tells them you run Thursday nights so your opinion will be equally as important.

They look small next to Gus for all their leather and chains, but at six and a half feet most do.

“So, we've only got around 20 minutes before we open up so let's get this started” he says with a clap of his hands and they all nod and head over to the stage.

You watch them amused as Gus sits himself on the opposite side of the bar and claps his hands again, “Okay boys when you're ready.”

The opening bars to War Pigs has you holding the urge to roll your eyes, but Gus gives a satisfied nod and you wonder if Angie had possibly given a few pointers for the songs they should play.

“Generals gathered in their masses. Just like witches at black masses”

The opening lines have you and Gus turning to each other with wide eyes.

This guy has pipes. Their nerves are still evident but they start to relax into it as you and Gus nod along with the beat.

About half way in, Gus holds up his hand and cuts the song short. “We maybe don't need the whole 8 minute rendition today.” he says with a chuckle.

You smile at them and Eddie stammers “Yeah. Hah, no, yeah, of course." Shaking his head he turns back to the band. They all communicate silently and the start of Metallicas For Whom The Bell Tolls rings out.

Gus, does not with hold his eye roll when he turns to see you grinning. Angie's definitely had a word. The boys see your face and they all exchange a look as they get into the meat of the song. Gus's head bobs despite himself but when his arm goes up to stop them again you slap it down mouthing don't at him.

They end with a flourish and you give them a small round of applause to which they bow.

“Okay boys we got time for one more.”

This one, you don't recognise, and you assume its an original and has obviously been chosen to show each of them off. Guitars shredding, drums crashing, it's shorter but impressive nonetheless.

When they finish you both give them another small round of applause before Gus slaps his knees and stands, arching his back with a crack.

“Well boys you've definitely got some talent,” he makes his way over and they beam at him “give me some time to think. I'll be in touch.”

It sounds dismissive and from the smiles dying on their faces, you know they hear it too, it makes your chest ache. Gathering up their belongings a silence falls over the bar.

You lean forward on the tips of your toes gripping the opposite side of the bar “Get their number” you say with a quiet hiss.

“What?” Gus says,with a look on his face you can't decipher, either he doesn't know why you're saying what you are or he genuinely didn't hear.

Regardless you say a little louder “You haven't got their number.” they all look over at you this time and Gus’s face says he heard you the first time.

As he walks over to you, you can't help the satisfied smirk, he scowls and plucks the pen you offer from your fingers.

When all is said and done you wave them goodbye with a tight smile on your face the door squeaking closed behind them.

Gus turns, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “That needs oiling.”

...

As the afternoon bleeds into evening so do the low lights and regulars who prop up the bar. The jukebox and clacking of pool balls are background noise to your pleads.

“They play one Metallica song”, Gus says as he heaves a barrel out of the back.

“Well Gus, they played it well.”

He hisses holding his back and turning to you as you stand arms crossed and frowning.

“Dave and the boys-”

“Don't come in on thursdays!” you say throwing your arms up in exasperation.

As if summoned, Dave gingerly moves to the bar. “Can I get another Jazz?” Gus takes this as his escape slipping out from behind the bar and quickly across the room disappearing into a booth.

You grit your teeth “Yeah coming up Dave”. You except defeat.

The evening moves on and Gus stays in place with Dave and Phil appearing from drinks which you serve to him in silence. Sulking you busy yourself with polishing glasses.

“How'd my boy do!?” Angie's voice appears from behind and you turn to see her leaning on the bar. Eyes shining bright and mischievous.

“Your boy?” you say moving to fix her a drink

“Eddie, long hair” she says combing long purple nails through her own dark curls.

“Intense eyes?”

She clicks her tongue at you and winks “How'd they do.”

“Good actually, really good.”

“Yeah?” she claps her palms excitedly “I told him!”, she looks around “where is the big grizzle.”

“Hiding.” you say sliding over her dink and popping a cigarette between your lips.

“Hiding?” she half laughs “Why?” You give her a knowing look and she rolls her eyes in annoyance.

“Where is he?” she says, looking around and spotting him, his head’s ducked back facing her.

“Hey Angie.” Phil says brightly and Dave elbows him as Gus winces at the mention of her name.

“What the hell.” she grabs Gus by the shoulder forcing him to look at her and his two friends slip out of the booth quietly.

“Ang.”

“Don't you Ang me. Those boys are good and don't tell me they're not because I know you ain't a liar.”

“They're kids” he defends and she throws her head back.

“My boy is 24 years old and the others ain't far behind.”

“Exactly” he says and she looks at him frowning, making a sweeping motion to you and you look over, confused.

“they weren't wearing face paint!” You yell over making Gus bark out a laugh while Angie sends you a glare that makes you duck away.

She settles in beside him and places her hand over his “Give them a shot.”

“They were almost an hour late Ang” he whines and she bristles beside him.

“Almost an hour?!” She bites her lip and squeezes his hand.

“One night, a trial run, unpaid. Please.”

He sighs scrubbing his hand over his shaved head.

“One night.”

....

The drive home had started fine but turned sombre as the adrenaline faded, arriving home to their shared apartment with little to no conversation the band split off into their respective rooms for the rest of the afternoon.

Eddie lays staring at the water mark on his ceiling. Mind a skipping record.

They had played well, he knows that.

But between Gareth losing his mind over trying to find his lucky drumsticks ten minutes before they needed to leave, and a wrong turn which meant they had to loop round half the city, he'd sworn to the guys he knew the way almost boasted, he'd been there before. But in daylight the roads were congested and if Jeff had said ‘ we’re going to be late’ one more time.

Then you hadn't remembered him, it was stupid, you'd barely spoken before really, but. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He couldn't face Angie tomorrow.

A soft rapping on his door pulls his attention, without a response it creaks open and a solitary hand appears into the room, a joint placed between the fingers.

He huffs a laugh and scrubs away at the sting of frustrated tears.

Opening the door Grant stands mouth twisted to the side and Eddie plucks the joint from his fingers mutely and walks to the living room knocking on his other two housemates on the way.

In slow succession all the boys seat themselves around the small TV, splayed out on beanbags and the threadbare second hand couch they had hauled up the building just last week.

Blue light bathing over them they lazily pass the joint around and finally the silence is slowly broken with ribbing comments and contagious laughter.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone has all the boys stopping stock still, minds catching up with themselves, looking at one another. It rings again and they all scramble up and over to it.

Eddie grabs the phone, knuckles white as he grips it “Hello?”

The bar is a low murmur in the background for a beat “Hi are the uhh-,” Gus’s voice trails away and it has Eddie's heart pounding, he grips his hair at the crown of his head as the rest of the band huddle in. There's muffled voices and he swears he can hear you and Angie's voices faintly “ Is this the corroded coffin boys?” Gus tries again.

“That's us” he almost yells, hand releasing his hair as he winces.

Gus chuckles and it vibrates down the line “You boys free Thursday?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fem!reader #my writing #first fiction #Bartender!Reader #fanfic #fan fiction

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gurugirl · 10 days

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Intuition | bfd!harry

Summary: Harry's got a surprise for you.

A/N: It's been a while! Enjoy!!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, fluff, breeding kink, age gap

Best Friend's Dad!Harry masterlist

Harry was up to something. You knew he was. You’d been around him long enough to know the signs that he was keeping a secret. He was trying to act normal. All lovey with lots of touches. He came home from work that evening with this look on his face like he had a secret he wanted to tell you but had to wait.

“What is it? What are you smirking about? I can tell you want to say something,” you poked his ribs after he got out of the shower and you stood next to him in the bathroom in front of the mirror.

“I’m not smirking,” he smirked.

“Yes, you are!” You laughed and pointed at his reflection in the mirror.

He licked his lips and tried to hide his smile but the dimples remained deep in his cheeks as he turned toward you and wrapped you in his arms. He was still damp after his shower. The towel around his waist tucked in well so it didn’t slide off when he moved his hands up your back and pulled your face to his, pressing his mouth against yours.

He was definitely hiding something. Trying to distract you. And the distraction did work eventually when he got your clothes off and tossed you in your bed and shut you up by making love to you.

“You want a baby? Yeah? Want to be a mommy, Y/n?” Harry was driving into you deep and then pulling out to his crown over and over again, long deep, slow strokes that had you at his mercy.

And you did want that. Harry’s divorce was finalized. It felt like it took so long and the stress that you two went through was difficult but it had been worth it. He was done with Mrs. Styles, who was going to be changing her last name back to her maiden name. You didn’t feel elated about it all, but it was nice to have that chapter over with. You’d never fully recover from the guilt of what you two had done but you couldn’t help that you’d fallen in love with him.

“Put a baby in me, Harry. Want to make you a daddy…” you moaned when he smacked his hips against yours with a thud.

And even though he was already a dad you loved saying it like that. Telling him you’d make him a daddy and he’d talk about making you a mommy and it was so hot. And truth be told, being off birth control had boosted your libido and you wanted it all the time. You hadn’t realized the way your hormones would react to going off it.

“Fuck me, sweet girl… Gonna put a ring on this finger,” he groaned as he took your left hand in his, weaving his fingers between yours and gripping your jaw with his other hand, “Gonna be such a good mommy to my babies…”

The bed under your back was creaking as he thrust and your pussy was so wet the sound would have been comical if you weren’t so gone for it. Gone for Harry.

“Mmm… get it in there deep, just like that…”

Harry rocked into you, keeping his hips glued to yours and you inhaled sharply at the pinch in your cervix. Every time he shoved himself all the way in it ached but you only wanted more and more. Loved that he was tucked into you so far that when he’d come there was less distance for his sperm to travel to get where you wanted it to end up.

“Like that, baby?” Harry looked down at you and tightened his hand around yours as you trembled and puffed out a loud moan, “Gonna come on my cock and let me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes!”

Harry’s deep groans were egging you on. It felt so good. It always did. Harry was a good lover. The best lover.

The front of his muscled thighs were pinned against yours and when he dropped his mouth to your lips you couldn’t hold back a moment longer.

Pulsing and clenching around him as he licked into your mouth, your head was blurry and your heart was pounding and then his orgasm rocked his body as he let out a strangled cry and pumped everything he had into your tummy.

And needless to say, you were out like a light once you’d gotten cleaned up and he tucked you into bed, holding you in his arms and the conversation about what he was hiding was once again on hold.

. . .

“You’re still here?” You looked at the clock on your bedside table and over to Harry in bed who was stretching his limbs and yawning.

“Mmhmm… Took off today.”

You grinned and rolled toward him, placing your palm on his chest, “That’s nice. Is there a reason you took off?”

That look again. The one that said he was holding something in appeared and he smiled at you, his hand cupping your face, “There is a reason. Yes.”

“Okay. What is it?” You cocked your head with your eyebrows raised.

“A surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“A surprise? Oh, come on! Tell me what it is!” You sat up and got to your knees with a wide grin, “You gotta tell me what’s going on!”

Harry’s soft eyes dropped down over your tits and your tummy and he grabbed your hips, bringing you down to his chest, “You don’t listen very well do you?” He swatted at your bottom making you puff out a laugh, “Said… you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Harry!” You groaned and tried to pull yourself up but he tightened his arms around you so you couldn’t budge.

“Y/n!” He mocked your voice and you laughed at his attempt at speaking in your tone.

“If I give you a blowie will you tell me?”

Harry sat quietly for a moment and let out a breath, “I’ll tell you regardless. You just gotta be patient. But I’ll take a blowie if you’re offering.”

Of course, that wasn’t the answer you wanted so you wound up wiggling from his arms and pulling his t-shirt on before sauntering out of the room to start the coffee.

You were anxious though. You wondered what the surprise was. Why Harry needed to take a whole day off work. What it was he’d been keeping from you…

But there was something else as well; All his recent comments about putting a ring on your finger. You thought it was possible that maybe he was going to propose too. It was no secret that he intended to keep you around. You’d both talked about ‘forever’. Obviously. What with the talk of having a baby and getting a place together.

And there was also the fact that your lease was coming up very soon. So soon it was giving you anxiety because you hadn’t really begun to look for a new apartment, outside of viewing a few houses that were for sale and Harry reassured and told you not to worry about it. You trusted him but there was that little question in the back of your mind that he was perhaps getting things set up for you without you knowing.

Those were just guesses, though. Whatever it was Harry was planning was something you were looking forward to learning.

“What should I wear for this surprise?” You held up a dress against your body as Harry entered your bedroom.

“Whatever you want. Whatever you feel best in.”

“Should I pack a bag? Bring tennis shoes? Will pictures be involved?” You were trying to get it out of him. He wasn’t giving you anything, though.

“No need to pack anything. If you want to wear tennis shoes you can. Just trust me when I say you don’t need to worry. Okay?”

Harry was wearing his typical getup. Jeans and a t-shirt so you just decided to go casual as well. But you did make sure you looked cute. Just in case pictures would be part of the surprise.

He was excited to show you what he’d done. He hoped you didn’t freak out. There were moments when he thought he should have you involved but he wanted to surprise you. Wanted to make it special. He didn’t get lots of chances to do things like this with you. And maybe he’d gone a little overboard on this but he’d committed and couldn’t back out now.

Your mind raced with the possibilities of what he had planned. You felt like it was something big. You braced yourself to be surprised. And boy were you when you pulled into that familiar neighborhood with the cute house you looked at with Harry months before. The one with the yard he couldn’t stop talking about.

“Harry…” you warned in surprise when he pulled into the driveway of the three-bedroom house and turned off the car engine.

“What?” He raised his brows at you in question, as if he couldn’t fathom what you were surprised by.

“What is… what’s going on?”

Harry didn’t answer as he climbed out of the car and you opened the passenger door and stepped out, looking up at the house and then at Harry.

He grinned at you and reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys with a pretty pink and silver key chain that read, “Home Sweet Home.”

You covered your mouth when he placed the keys in your hand and then he nudged you toward the house, “Know you loved this place. So I bought it for us. It’s ours. Finished up all the closing of it a few days ago and took today off so we could celebrate.”

Harry had his own set of keys as he unlocked the door and opened it up for you to enter first. You did love the house when you first viewed it.

And now there was a table with dining chairs and a big beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center.

“I’ve put a bed in the master bedroom already. King size. No more double bed for us, baby,” he grinned as you looked around. You were stunned that he’d gone and gotten a mortgage on a house and went through the whole process without you knowing.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

Harry stepped in front of you and pulled you into his arms, “For us. For our family. For you.”

You walked through the house again to get reacquainted. Harry had done the smallest bit of furnishing but mostly it was bare. Ready to be furnished and decorated. The bedroom he had nearly ready. The bed was huge and it had sheets and fluffy blankets atop, a dresser, and a side table on both sides. The ensuite had towels and he’d bought soap and lotion. But when he brought you down to the kitchen the fridge was mostly empty but there was a container of something (something sweet he said) along with a bottle of champagne.

Of course, Harry popped the bottle and pulled out two champagne flutes from the cupboard and you clinked glasses before sipping the bubbly drink.

“To me and you. To forever. I love you,” he spoke as he took your hand in his and lifted it up to kiss your knuckles.

“I love you too, Harry. I know I’ve been really quiet but I’m just processing all this. It’s a shock. But I’m so happy. I can’t believe it.”

You carried your glass of champagne with you into the backyard, which still looked terrible, but it was spacious and Harry shared with you his vision again. What it could look like…

You watched him wave his arms around as he kept looking at you as he spoke, “And this… we can just have a nice patch of flowers. The shade is perfect here and it’ll really brighten up this corner. The tree will need trimmed back but it’s going to be perfect to hang a swing off of and little string lights for nighttime. We’ll put some outdoor furniture on the patio after I clean it all up. Trim out the weeds and fill in the spaces that got overgrown…”

A soft smile covered your face as you watched how excited he was. You were excited too, though. Everything was perfect for you two in that moment. You had the love of your life with you and he had bought a house to make a home in. A place he wanted to share with you. A man you trusted and found yourself falling more in love with every day.

You placed your glass down on the brick ledge near the patio and stepped in front of Harry as he was still yammering on about what he would do with the space and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his pecs, “I love it, Harry. It’s perfect.”

And your hormones were raging as you inhaled his scent and he squeezed his strong arms around you. It didn’t help that he kept talking about children running around, what with you ovulating like you were. You had been keeping close track of it and after months of being off birth control, you were finally starting to feel like your body was adjusting to its natural cycle.

Tilting your head back to look up at him you saw him already looking down at you, “Let’s go test out that bed.”

And now it was Harry’s hormones that were raging. He practically dragged you to the master bedroom and you found yourself testing out the bed just as you asked.

“How do you like it?” Harry panted as he sunk into you over and over again.

You were out of breath as you squeaked out a sound of approval.

“That good huh? Gonna make me a daddy? Gonna let me fill you up with babies, Y/n?”

Harry wasn’t gentle as he pumped into you, harsh thuds against you where he’d grind down every time he buried himself into the hilt. He pulled back, nearly completely out before snapping his hips forward into yours. He set the most delicious cadence, thick shaft filling you and rearranging your insides.

When he slowed down he dropped his mouth against yours, rolling into your wet pussy.

“I’m ovulating,” you breathed against his mouth. You were finally able to speak now that he was fucking into you more languidly.

Harry parted from the kiss with a filthy grin on his face, “Is that right little girl? I get to fuck my come into your fertile pussy?”

“Mmm… yes sir… fuck me til it sticks. Want it so bad. Want your babies and your come…”

The new bed was sturdy, unlike the old one at your apartment. No squeaking or creaking or headboard ramming into the walls… just the sound of your creamy pussy wrapped around Harry’s fat cock and the slap of skin.

It was an excellent way to celebrate the purchase of the new house. A little champagne and a good fucking in the new bed… and hopefully it would end with you pregnant.

You’d never had baby fever or whatever this was. But something about Harry just did it for you. You wanted him in every way. Wanted to show everyone how he was yours, that you’d won, that no one could come between you two. Logically you understood the flaw of that thinking, but logic flew out the window every time he was balls deep; that masculine body over yours, his deep voice saying filthy sweet things in your ear, and his big cock that had you hooked since that first day at your apartment all that time ago.

“Oh my god, baby… look a’that…” Harry shifted himself and lifted your hips so you could glimpse the way he was filling you slowly and pulling back, shiny arousal coating his shaft, “Made for each other.” He began to thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rolled into you, eyes on the action happening where you were connected “Feels good doesn’t it?”

You nodded, “You always feel so good, Harry. I need you…”

He moaned, “I know, baby… I need you too.”

You rocked your hips into his hand as he continued fucking into you until he moved again, tilting himself over you and taking the back of your neck in his big palm, and pressing his lips to yours.

Harry’s hips were glued to yours as he pushed into you, ensuring he stayed nice and deep, massaging your inner walls with every thrust in. The pressure of your orgasm built and built as he lapped his tongue against yours and tucked his cock deeper and deeper until he was no longer rearing back, his pelvis rolling over your clit.

Soft whimpers and pants were muffled from your mouth as he kept your lips occupied with his own.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier as he pressed himself to you and you could feel him trembling. When he moaned against your mouth and rutted in smooth and deep he hit something achy, you simply came undone. Harry had to lift his mouth from yours as you moaned and he gasped at the way you were gripping him and pulsing around him until he couldn’t hold back and pumped into you, stuffing you with his come.

It was a favorite. The feel of his throbbing cock releasing inside you. That way you knew your pussy was siphoning every drop from him and how good your cunt felt on him. His soft whimpered moans as he stilled his hips against yours and twitched until he was milked dry, balls properly drained.

Lying in bed together, limbs wrapped up and sweaty bodies breathing and flushed hot post-orgasm you turned to look at him and lifted your knee, draping your thigh over his hip, “I love you.”

Harry moaned and opened his eyes and pulled at you, his arms wrapping around you, “I love you, baby.”

“I’m pretty sure that was it.”

Harry turned his eyes and looked at you, “What was it?”

You grinned and drew your hand up his strong chest, “Well, we’ll see… but I think you just got me pregnant.”

Harry laughed and you giggled with him. Mostly it was just a tease. You’d have no way of really knowing at that point. But something in your gut told you that there was a good chance of it.

“And what makes you think of all the times we’ve gone at it since you’ve been off birth control that this was the one?”

“Well… it’s been months since I got off birth control and for the past couple of weeks I’ve really been more in tune with my body because of it and my ovulation cycle is starting to get to normal and today my insides were aching and I knew the only thing that would make me feel better was to orgasm and that’s because I’m ovulating.”

Harry grinned and ran his thumb over your neck, “Well I fucked you this morning after coffee, baby. Maybe the one from this morning got you knocked up.”

Biting your lip you slid yourself over Harry and straddled his lap, taking his hands and bringing his palms up to cup your tits, “Either way… feel this?” You squeezed around his hands over your tender breasts, “Haven’t had swollen breasts in a really long time. The ovulation is strong this month. And today it’s at its height. My whole body wants to be pregnant.”

The soft gaze on Harry’s face as he looked into your eyes was full of affection and love as he pressed over your nipples, “Extra fertile today, yeah? Then let me recover a bit and I’ll fuck you again. Just in case third time’s a charm, ya know?”

You laughed, “I mean the day is still early. I think I’m gonna need lots of orgasms today to feel better and you’re just the man to give them to me. Plus, we need to celebrate properly.”

He pulled you down, pressing your chest against his, and groped the globes of your ass in his hands, “Well sounds like I’m gonna have to go buy sparkling grape juice for you, huh Mama?”

You both cackled loudly as soon as he said it. And you both understood it was just post-sex hormones talking in that moment. But you’d know soon enough if your intuition was right. You hoped it was.

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poetsandwriters · 2 years

Photo

Paige Clark on writing her debut story collection, She Is Haunted, published in May by Two Dollar Radio, in “First Fiction 2022.”

#Paige Clark #She Is Haunted #First Fiction #Writing #Inspiration #Writer's Block #Revision #Quote #Two Dollar Radio #2022 #Writer's Life

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plaguerat00 · 10 months

Text

@tapakah0 and @somerandomdudelmao This is what I think of every time Tap makes those amazing fan arts and animatics. ^😭

#Seriously though Tap your the first artist to make me get all teary and it was over fictional turtles /pos #tapakah0 #somerandomdudelmao #fan meme #I used your instead of you're #ah fuck it

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pedroshotwifey · 6 days

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Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?”

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure.

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily.

You’re both lying in his bed, half-naked. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him.

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes?

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be.

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now.

“Joel?”

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore.

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right.

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes.

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes.

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year.

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself.

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you.

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.”

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you?

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you whine.

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure.

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him.

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—”

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—”

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face.

You love him. You said it. And he believes you.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters.

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin.

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him.

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back.

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back.

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm.

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time.

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now.

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat.

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained.

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria.

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts.

*****

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