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fixomnia-scribble · 8 months ago

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WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

#archaeology #bronze age #UK archaeology #excavations

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ashesurnsjewellery · 1 month ago

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Treasured Memories: Stunning Necklaces for Ashes of Loved Ones

Discover our exquisite collection of necklaces for ashes of loved ones, designed to honor and cherish the memories of those who have passed. Each piece is thoughtfully crafted to hold a small amount of ashes, allowing you to keep your loved one close to your heart. Explore various styles and finishes that reflect their spirit and your enduring love, making these necklaces a beautiful tribute to lasting bonds.

#ashes to glass necklace #necklaces for ashes of loved ones

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moonlight-prose · 3 months ago

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taste me on your tongue

a/n: guess who's gonna go see deadpool and wolverine again. last night i was battling a migraine, but at around midnight it finally fucking disappeared. so i wrote a small drabble that i'd been dreaming about to make myself feel better. it's short and spicy and i'm actually obsessed with it.

summary: the taste of him became an addiction you couldn't ignore. especially when he was adamant on sharing it in multiple ways.

word count: 0.8k+

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: semi-explicit, shotgunning, cigar taste, make out sessions, dry humping, his hand makes a pretty necklace, good girl usage, logan is messy with it.

His grip is loose on your neck—fingers splayed across soft skin he'd bite later. Heavy enough to keep you in place, remind you what he wanted, but with enough leeway for you to move. To slide into his lap with ease—hands braced on his leather clad shoulders. A smile painted across your heavenly face; one he tried to burn behind his eyelids in the hopes of replacing his nightmares with visions of you instead.

The cigar was set between his teeth, smoke curling past his lips that mumbled your name. He half expected you to remove it—toss it into the ash tray and leave it to smolder for the rest of the night. You surprised him by pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. A pleased sigh escaped you when he pulled you closer—the evident bulge on his jeans gave enough information about what he wanted.

"Ain't you pretty tonight," he said, thumb running along your collarbone. "Get all dolled up for me baby?"

You nodded. "I wanted to meet you at the door."

"Mm." Whatever plans the two of you set flew out the front fucking window the second he saw you prancing towards him—a soft smile on your face and hearts practically reflecting in your eyes. "Prettiest fuckin' thing I've ever seen."

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, hips shifting over his with a whine. And Logan felt his body beg him to move this along. To strip you of your clothes and drop them to the ground. He merely spread his thighs a bit wider, forcing your legs to stretch over his hips—your fingers a sharp dig through the layers he wore.

"I missed you today."

"Yeah?"

What he wouldn't give to see that look in your eyes every fucking morning. Soft enough to break his already damaged heart. Yet filled with enough love to put it back together.

"This place is empty without you Logan."

There'd never be anything sweeter than knowing he held a spot in your life. Days without him left you longing for his touch—his voice whispering in your ears. Logan felt like an anchor. A reminder that you belonged right there with him; you weren't lost in your place in the world when he existed to find you. Although whether you knew it or not—Logan felt the exact same about you.

"'M gonna try somethin'," he said, voice hoarse as he pictured what would come after this. "Hold still for me bub."

His calloused palm slid up your throat until he gripped your chin tight enough for your lips to part. Heat pooled in your stomach when he tugged you closer—his nose barely nudging against your cheek. You thought he'd kiss you like this. Still puffing on a cigar and lips tinged with the taste of it.

You almost wished he had.

The sight of his lips closing around the end, sucking in a mouthful of smoke, before he pulled it free caused your stomach to drop—the throbbing in between your legs suddenly unbearable. You wouldn't have been able to ignore it if you tried. And thankfully Logan was always adamant on giving your body the attention it needed.

The attention he claimed you deserved.

Pushing your cheeks together, he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. A whimper climbed its way up your throat and nearly broke free. If it weren't for the smoke he blew into your open mouth—the taste of his cigar now a part of your sharp intake of breath.

"That's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned.

Giving you no chance to respond, his lips clashed against yours in a messy kiss. The smoke that remained now escaping between the two of you—disappearing into the air within seconds. His tongue licked across your teeth, spit a wet smear along your bottom lip. For the brief second he pulled away, shifting to cup the back of your neck, a string of saliva left the both of you connected.

You took it all. Each rough grunt and deep lick he gave you. And you met him with soft sighs and moans of your own.

"Can I have another?" you asked against his cheek, hips starting a slow grind against his lap.

Logan's whole body jolted at the sound—his breath, a hot pant against the skin of your neck. He was lucky he didn't finish in his pants at your question. Yet before he could give you a straight answer, he was shoving the cigar back in his mouth—pulling in another long drag to gather as much smoke as possible.

How could he deny you something so sinful? When you asked like an angel.

"C'mere," he muttered around a mouthful of smoke. Careful to keep it from escaping.

You smiled, fingers tangling into his hair, and met him halfway for the kiss. Logan felt a piece of himself settle deep into your chest—forever now a part of you.

don't look at me okay. i just want him to blow smoke in my mouth.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

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nishiyako · 5 months ago

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KENJI & DOGGY STYLE (DRABBLE) (NSFW)

Someone reposted one of my Kenji fics and said "ugh he'd so love doggy style", now that I read this, yes, “he’d so love doggy style”. So here's some Kenji doggy style brain rot/Drabbles.

Tags : Doggy style (duh), Creampie mentioned, Pulling out, Dommy Kenji, Praise n sweet talk from Kenji <3, Degration too, Spanking, Kenji puts out a cig on you (can't get over it, srry), not proofread, written in 20 minutes.

Ever since he's seen you he just knew you would look perfect on your hands and knees for him, his hands maybe with a handful of your hair forcing you bounce against his hips while he absolutely spoils you by finishing on your skin.

His chest right against your back, feeling his warm skin against yours and his heavy breathing right beside your ear cooled by the cold gold dog tag necklace he wears that's pressed between your bodies (obviously the necklace stays on)

Everyone knows he's the type to talk you through it, humming the sweetest praises and treating your insides like its his god, rubbing that spongy spot inside you only making you get that much closer, the type that makes you light headed, out of breath, questioning your worth, y'know?

“You like that? Yeah, bet you do.” or “Doing so fuckin’ good for me, yeah?” his words always followed with the most needy, lustful, most porn hub worthy moans you’d ever hear.

Believe he has an impeccable pull out game, pulling out of you just before finishing, using your lower back as a canvas of his warm sticky seed, seeing the build up of stressful days and hard practices painted over his lover while your thighs are absolutely stained and sticky.

While you’re still panting and irrational he asks to take a photo, not a few days after you see it as his phone's home screen.

You want him to be mean? if it's what you're into he’ll absolutely bully you if you want him too. A hand covering your mouth as he complains that “You’re too loud” and while he calls you a slut. He can’t help the fact he’s into you. He’ll even ask you to put your hair in pigtails or a ponytail just so he can hold you like that, seeing that little arch in your back just for him? Does wonders to his ego.

Get's a bit rough here...

He has no problem being rougher than that too, playing into that sick and twisted bad boy fantasy (some of) you have of him, scene being something like a cigarette in his mouth and him ripping your fishnets open.

Railing you into next week with red hand marks on your skin from his spanking fueled by the cute little yelps you let out. Your eyeliner streaming down your face as your eyes roll back, white starting to stain your ruined (once was) black fishnets, something straight out of a porn hub video. He doesn't mind finishing inside you either if you ask nicely.

His hand pinning your wrists against the bed as the other one took his almost out cigarette and taping it, putting it out on your skin, some of the ash sticking against the shiny sweat on your body, finishing inside you with no warning, the feeling of getting filled up to suddenly pushing you over the edge.

(But no matter which kind of fannon Kenji you prefer, I hope y'all enjoyed hearing out my little doggy style Kenji fantasy.)

Repost in question :

@gotosleeeep love you sm <33

#kenji sato smut #ken sato smut #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x you #ken sato x you #smut drabble

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froggiewrites · 25 days ago

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Into the Dragon's Den

Pairing: Dragon!Ace x Reader

NSFW

Summary: This job is going to change your life. With the treasure from the dragon’s hoard, you’ll never have to work again, you’re sure of it. But when he catches you in the act, you find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Everything in this room is his, and he insists that includes you. But really, would it be so bad to play your part? Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Size Kink, Objectification (Reader treated as a treasure), Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Praise Kink, Biting/Marking, Tail Sex, Overstimulation, Possessiveness, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3k Halloween Special 2024

It’s impossibly warm within the dragon’s lair. Your clothes are soaked through with sweat, sticking to you with every step, but still you press on. Your current discomfort is nothing compared to the bliss that’s going to follow, once you get this gold.

You had no idea how large his hoard was, when you first came here. You knew that even a small hoard would pay for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life, but the amount of gold, jewels, and priceless artifacts in this cave could feed an entire kingdom for a century, at least. You can’t pocket it all, of course, but if you choose wisely you’ll be able to live like royalty once you find the right buyer for it all. You’ll never have to work a day again in your life, safe and protected and cozy in a little piece of land just for yourself. You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face from the thought.

The dragon is nowhere to be seen, hopefully out hunting or something else that will take it a while. You’re no dragon slayer, and you don’t care to be. You don’t want to kill such a magnificent creature, simply relieve it of some loose change and trinkets. Nothing it will miss. You didn’t even bring anything to defend yourself other than a tiny dagger, one that couldn’t pierce a dragon’s hide even wielded by the greatest warrior. You’re a would-be thief, nothing else.

Your eyes drag over the room you stand in, clearly burrowed out by massive claws and set with a fire that would leave nothing but ash were it set upon you. The floor is a beautiful volcanic glass, which you would love to chip away and take with you, but while your dagger would certainly be able to take off a piece or two, it would also shatter immediately on impact. You instead settle for a large pile of gold jewelry. You can see dozens of precious gems peeking out, sapphires and rubies and diamonds catching the dim light so beautifully you’re drawn closer like a moth to a flame. You spot a particularly beautiful necklace, with an orange gemstone that looks like fire itself inlaid in the center, and you can’t help but reach out for it. It’s only once your fingers have wrapped around it that you hear the rumbling voice behind you.

“Are you sure you should be touching that?” The voice is deep, rumbling, but there’s a hint of joviality to it, laughing like there’s a joke here, and you’re the punchline. You whip around to see it, or him, towering above you. You expected some horrible beast, a lizard spanning the length of the room, but standing before you is almost a man. He’s frighteningly tall, at least double your height, and his biceps and pectorals are larger than your head. His hands, which are reaching toward you, are tipped in black claws that could easily rip you to shreds. He’s hardly clothed, just a simple pair of shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, and most of his exposed skin is covered in beautiful, glistening red scales. His cheeks are dotted with both freckles and smaller scales, and his eyes are piercing, his pupils slits that you can see grow wider as he looks at you. His grin is filled with razor sharp teeth that you can imagine ripping into your throat. On either side of his head are curling horns reaching for the sky. You’d call him beautiful, were you not so terrified. There is a large tail behind him, whipping back and forth with an audible swish. You feel like a mouse caught beneath the claws of a cat, waiting to be toyed with before being ripped to shreds.

One hand wraps around your waist, while the other plucks the necklace easily from your grasp. He holds it up to the light as he pulls you closer, allowing the gem to sparkle and shine. He hums, which is more of a rumble, before holding it up to your neck. His eyes seem to strip you bare as they rake over you. His grin grows wider. “It suits you. Would you like to wear it, little one?”

You stare, mouth agape, and he laughs again, showing off every one of his teeth. You force yourself to answer. “I–I couldn’t possibly.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and you feel as though you’ve failed some kind of test. “You could. I wouldn’t have offered if you couldn’t. It’s a lovely piece.” With the way he’s staring, you can’t help but feel he isn’t talking about the necklace.

You don’t know what role you’re playing here, but you know he’s massive and gorgeous and terrifying, so you try to fulfill it anyway. “Then I suppose I would.”

He grins, pulling you close until you’re pressed against him and releasing you, delicately clasping the necklace around your neck. It’s thick and heavy, feeling almost like a collar. His claw traces gently along where it falls on your neck, leaning down to admire the shine of gold against your skin. “Lovely,” he murmurs, and you can feel his hot breath against your face, smelling of smoke and burning oak. He leans closer, his tongue, which is far longer than a regular man’s, tracing along the path his fingers took. You shiver, and you can feel him grin against your skin before nipping right at your sweet spot.

You yelp. “Wh–what are you doing?”

His voice is low when he whispers in your ear. “I’m enjoying what’s mine.”

“What?”

“Everything in this room is one of my treasures.” His nips at you again, before his lips brush gently against the spot to soothe the marks he surely left. “And such a lovely one just snuck in to make their place here. How lucky am I?” Another nip, another kiss, then a gentle suckle against your skin. You whine at the sensation, heat flooding you, and he laughs again.

“I’m–I’m not–ah!” His hand inserts itself between your thighs, making you instinctively clench them around it as he presses into you through your pants. He slowly drags up, watching as you whimper and whine under his heated attention.

“Not what? Mine? Or a treasure?” He chuckles, and you feel the sound echo through his chest as it presses against yours. “You’re both, sweet thing. Unless you care to explain why else you’d be here?” His tone is still hot and seductive, but the words carry a challenge. His teeth are still against your throat, and for the first and only time his bite is enough to draw blood. He quickly licks it away, soothing it with his long, forked tongue, but the message is clear.

You whimper, the sound coming from deep within you, though whether it comes from fear or arousal you don’t quite know. You open your mouth to confess, to submit yourself to him, to say anything at all, but you’re met with that same tongue entering your throat. The kiss is horribly sloppy, wet and wild and wanting, as his hands slowly start to move. One keeps pressing against your clit through your pants, tortuously slow, while the other reaches for your chest. You expect to feel him paw at you, but instead you feel a slight sharpness from his claw down the front of your shirt, cutting it and your bra in two. They don’t fall off immediately, stuck to you with sweat, and he makes a discontented grunt before peeling them off of you. You involuntarily squeak at the sensation, and start to pull back, but something scaled and rough wraps around your waist keeping you still.

His tail holds you firmly, tight enough to keep you from squirming but not tightly enough to bruise. The sensation of his scales scraping against the bottom of your breasts is interesting, and you can’t tell if it’s discomfort or pleasure that makes you shiver. He seems to enjoy it either way. The tip of it starts to make its way down, slipping below the waistband of your pants and pressing lightly against your clit. You gasp against him, and he grins against your lips.

You finally get a moment to breathe as he pulls back to admire your upper half, the way your skin looks pressed against his snails, your exposed chest and the way it heaves as you try to catch your breath. His pupils start to overtake his irises the more he looks at you. “A wonderful addition to my collection,” he murmurs hotly, leaning in to nip at your tits. “The crowning jewel, really. I’ll have to find the perfect place for you. Somewhere you’ll catch the light just right.”

He leaves marks all over your torso, hickies and bites that you’re sure will stay for days. He turns his claws to your pants, finally removing his hand from between your thighs to drag a claw on the outsides of either pant leg and quickly ripping them off. His tail still lightly rubs against you as he peels off your panties and finally exposes you fully to the heated air around you. He finally leaves your chest alone, kissing down your stomach to meet his tail blocking his path further down. His tip leaves your clit, and you let out a pathetic noise that he absolutely delights in.

“Don’t worry, treasure. I’d never leave you wanting.” He looks up at you, scales catching the light, and gives you a smile you could almost be convinced was filled with genuine affection. But the hunger, the wanting, the possession still reflects in his eyes, betraying him for the animal he is. His tail leaves your midriff, and his hands find your thighs, spreading them easily. “You’re dripping, sweet thing. You really are perfect. Could you really blame me for wanting to keep you all to myself?”

You struggle to speak in your lust-infused haze, but you manage. “I–I’m not perfect.”

“Oh, but you are, treasure, even if you don’t know it. You’re going to love being mine, I promise. I take very good care of my things.”

You find yourself coming unraveled underneath his gaze, bare and vulnerable. The truth comes out of you almost like a compulsion. “I was trying to steal from you.”

He chuckles. “I know. You seem a bit greedy.” He easily lifts you, placing your thighs on his shoulders, his nose pressing into your core. “It’s alright. So am I.”

With that, he dives in, eating you out like a man starved. His tongue is much longer than a human’s, finding places within you that you didn’t even know were there to be found. He makes loud slurping sounds, ones that make you blush despite yourself. You’re suspended in the air, coming unraveled on his tongue, unable to muffle your cries as he buries himself into you. You clench your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensation. Your hands tangle in his hair tightly, pulling at every movement of his tongue, and he growls against you with every tug.

He murmurs against you, “So sweet, darling thing.” HIs nose brushes against your clit, and you begin to fall, only to be caught by his tail, held midair, only supported by him. Every sensation you can feel is him, from his tongue to his tail to the warmth of the air in his lair, he is the only world you are allowed to know. His claws dig into the plush of your thighs as he continues his feast, showing his strength, his lethality, but never threatening to truly puncture. You wonder how many people have been ripped to shred by the hands holding you, how many have been consumed by the mouth that presses against you.

He continues to lap away at you as you cry out, muscles tensing as you build towards your climax. He’s unrelenting as he greedily tastes you, lost in your flavor, the feeling of your thighs clenching around his head, the softness of your skin underneath his tail. You manage to open your eyes just long enough to glance down at him and see there is not a single millimeter between him and you. As he feels you grow closer and closer, one of his hands reaches for your clit, gently rubbing against it, and you finally come unraveled around him. He doesn’t slow for a moment as you cry out and clench around him. Your orgasm ravages you just as he does, pleasure bursting through you. You expect him to pull away, to begin to prepare to enter you, but he doesn’t slow for a moment, letting out soft moans against your mound as he continues.

“W–What are you–”

He growls against you as you try to pull him back. “Mine.”

“Please, it–it’s too much!” You cry as he hits a particularly sensitive spot again.

When he hears your noises shift from pleasure to discomfort, he seems to find himself for a moment, finally pulling you off of him slightly. His chin is dripping with your juices, his cheeks shining from the wetness covering them. His eyes are completely blown out, and he looks almost lost as he pulls back. He only focuses again once he looks up at your face, and he seems to remember where he is. You maintain eye contact for a moment, as one of his hands comes up to lightly brush against the necklace you’re wearing. “A treasure, a feast, a beauty. You really are perfect.” His voice is filled with a quiet awe, enough that you allow yourself to ignore the heat of possession burning beneath the words. “And you’re all mine.”

Some part of you wants to deny it, but more of you is lost in the haze of it all, and you find yourself muttering, “Yes, yes, yours!”

“Yes, treasure, yes.” He kisses your thigh before he begins lowering you, holding you with his arms instead. Something scaly and hard begins to slither up your thigh, and you whine as you feel his tail dip against your entrance. “Just a bit more, sweet thing. To make sure you’re ready.”

“Please,” you mutter, for mercy, for more, for whatever he’ll give you.

“Of course.” His tail slowly enters you, stretching you easily after all of his attention earlier. He pushes and pushes, making you feel wonderfully full. His tail grows wider as it continues, threatening to tear you in two, but you manage to accommodate him anyway. “So good for me, treasure. Doing such a wonderful job. You were made for this. For me.”

You feel the alien sensation of his scales against your walls as he slowly pulls it out and pushes it back in, testing how far you can stretch, how much of his you can take. He murmurs soft praises with every inch you’re able to fit, about how perfect you are, about what a wonderful addition to his collection you’ll be, about what a prize you are. “You’ll stay with me forever, treasure. I have the perfect space for you in my bed, and the firelight will illuminate your beauty just right. You’ll wear all of the jewels you could ever desire. And you’ll feel pleasure like this every night.”

You cry when he pulls out of you, but you’re quickly silenced by the sensation of something far larger poking against your entrance. “Don’t tense up now, treasure. You’re doing so well. It’ll be alright.”

A strangled moan leaves you when he inserts himself, stretching you wider than any point of his tail did. Tears prick at your eyes, and your thighs tense, but you force yourself to take a breath and relax.

“Just like that. You can do it.” He slides and slides for what feels like forever, and you look down to see where he meets you. His cock is monstrous, and you clench around him when you see the bulge in your belly from your body trying to accommodate it. He moans. “Ah, just like that. Perfect. So perfect.”

He pulls you impossibly closer, kissing you with something resembling tenderness. Then, all at once, he pulls out and slams into you quickly, a single hand on your hips moving you up and down at a breakneck pace. You cry out, and he quickly silences you with another deep kiss, bouncing you on his cock like you were made for nothing more than this. His hips pound against you as his other hand reaches for your clit. His claw briefly presses against your skin, but mercifully you find his fingertip rubbing against you instead. You can hear nothing over the blood rushing in your ears and his heavy breaths as he continues to rut against you. His lips leave yours and you whine. He’s saying something, but you can’t make out the words. His tone is enough, wanting and desperate, for you to know he’s singing your praises again.

The heat of it all is quickly becoming too much, and you can see he’s losing himself as well, as his thrusts become even faster and his hand tightens around your hips. The fire moves through you without mercy, pleasure blinding you and taking your breath away as you come cum on his cock. He follows soon after, and you can feel warm spurts of cum fill you as he moans loudly against your ear. When he does, he falls backwards into the pile of treasure behind him, taking you with him. He doesn’t pull out for a moment as he pulls you close, tucking you into him and pressing your head into his chest. His heart is pounding, his skin is on fire, and his breaths are unsteady. He’s come fully and truly undone.

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that you lay there before he pulls out. You feel horribly empty when he does, cum dripping out of you onto his thighs. He laughs when you whine.

“I hope you’re prepared, treasure. We have a wonderful time ahead of us.” His grin is all teeth, his pupils retracting back into slits, and you’re forced to remember once again there is nothing human about the thing sitting beneath you. “You’re going to love being mine.”

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece smut #ace x y/n #ace x you #portgas d ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #ace smut #one piece #one piece x reader

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raziele · 7 months ago

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thinking about the bad kids slowly dying off, one by one.

thinking about them carrying the ashes of their fallen to the next funeral, and the next, till its adaine sitting on a pew alone with all her friends ashes, sobbing, realizing she is alone, she will be alone, that they're never coming back.

thinking about adaine, numb after the years, with tokens of her friends in her pockets.

kristen's hair ties: sometimes adaine washes her hair with shampoo that smells like she did, puts on her old tye-dyed t-shirts.

riz' necktie, it's threads coming unraveled at the worn edges. it used to smell like his cologne.

gorgug's playlists still comfort her, the uncompromising, screaming, yet somehow gorgeous music blasting. it drowns out all the years spent without him, takes her right back to the day they went to basrar's for the first time.

fig's guitar sits in her room. adaine tries to learn how to play, hears the echo of figs laugh through the strings. she takes up smoking cloves.

fabian left adaine all his gold jewelry, and she keeps a strip of his old battle sheet in her pocket. the elves in kai lumenera welcome her with open arms every few decades, the trees swaying with the memory of fabian's dancing, his lilting voice still carried in the wind.

"the bad kids," and yet, everything they had was so good: still, all lovely things must come to an end.

before adaine lays down for the last time, she pulls on an old IDK tee, now-long hair tied up just how kristen used to. it doesn't match, but she still ties riz' gregorian necktie, just slightly too tight. she's rusty, now— riz had her tie his tie once, but that was so long ago now. she puts in earrings, clasps a necklace, decorates her long, elven fingers with sparkling diamond rings. she plays an old, old song on bass. it's harsh, unforgiving metal, but beautiful and melodic to her ears.

thinking about their inherent tragedy.

aelwyn takes everyone else's ashes to the last funeral.

#angel.txt #the bad kids #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #writing #fantasy high #dimension 20 #d20

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whereserpentswalk · 7 months ago

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People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.

You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.

You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.

You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.

You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.

You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.

You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.

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